Christina stood with her arms folded tightly, eyes narrowed at the silent crystal ceiling above. Her expression betrayed none of her inner turmoil, but when she finally spoke, her voice was laced with sharp bitterness.
"You should be more worried about yourself, Shennong," she said without looking at him. "At this point… they might call us traitors. Harboring a fugitive. Opposing the Crown."
Cassandra looked between the two with mild amusement, but Shennong only gave a short breath, part sigh and part chuckle.
"In their eyes, we're just kidnapping victims," he said, walking slowly toward Yenissa's bed. "No one's thinking straight with all these dungeons sprouting up."
He crouched beside Yenissa, his fingers brushing a lock of her hair away from her pale forehead. She lay still, yet her face was no longer lifeless—there was the faintest blush to her cheeks now. Her breathing, shallow before, had evened out.
