With one final, dismissive glance at our cell, my father turned on his heel and strode out of the damp dungeon, his footsteps fading into the shadows. The small vanguard of mercenaries followed him, leaving behind only a single, heavily armed guard stationed at the far exit of the corridor. The man sat down on a wooden stool, resting his crossed arms over his chest, his eyes fixed lazily on the stone floor.
The heavy silence of the dungeon closed in on us.
I turned away from the bars, the heavy iron cuffs weighing down my hands behind my back as I walked toward Eloise and Toby. My chest ached with a suffocating mix of guilt and fear.
"I'm so sorry, Eloise," I whispered, my voice cracked and raw. "I couldn't let him hurt either of you. I couldn't just stand there."
Eloise looked up at m
