Eleanor's POV
Hours had passed. Glinda had bathed, changed into fresh clothes, and now stood by the window while I paced the length of my room like a caged animal. The story she'd told me was still burning in my chest, each word a brand against my skin.
The children taken from their parents for speaking out. The families separated, members sent to different corners of the territory as leverage. The disappearances in the night, the ones who tried to run, the ones who were made examples of. The way people learned to smile while their insides were rotting. The way hope was the most dangerous thing a person could have in this place.
"I really want to ask if you are sure about this," Glinda said, her voice steady now, though her eyes still carried the weight of everything she'd shared. "About going against your family. Do you really think you can do it?"
