Even after two days, Rosalind was still imprisoned with Rowan. The cell was dim and damp, the air heavy with silence broken only by distant footsteps from the corridor.
Rowan leaned against her shoulder as if it were the only stable thing in the world, while Rosalind gently ran her fingers through his hair, humming under her breath to help him sleep. It had become a pattern over the past two days, whenever exhaustion or pain kept him awake, she would hum softly until his breathing slowed, and slowly it seemed to work.
