A muted flash carries Madam Cleara into the castle medical wing. She arrives on one knee, Rosmira limp and exhausted in her arms, while clean lavender light settles over the quiet room.
Queen Voloria
“Cleara.”
Queen Voloria crosses the room at once. Relief loosens her posture when she feels Cleara’s restored connection, but her gaze remains fixed on Rosmira’s pale, sleeping face.
Madam Cleara
“She forced the chamber to release me. Rogue escorted me as far as the threshold, then I brought her here.”
Queen Voloria
“Then she has spent the strength she could not spare. Put her on the recovery bed. I will oversee everything else.”
For the next forty-eight hours, Cleara stays beside Rosmira while restorative care quietly rebuilds what was depleted. On the second night, Cleara sits with Rosmira’s hand between both of hers as Voloria draws a chair near the bed.
Madam Cleara
“When she wakes, what do we tell her first? That she is safe, or that I am proud of her?”
“With a weak but low muffle laugh ros whispers to cleara "Maybe dont follow random strangers anymore sis".”
Rosmira
Maybe don't follow random strangers anymore, sis.
The whisper carries a weak, muffled laugh. Cleara's grip tightens, then trembles with relieved amusement.
Madam Cleara
I will add that to your recovery instructions.
Queen Voloria
And I will make certain she follows them.