Volgograd (17)

Not long after Ang left, Janice and Maya hurried into the tent.

The flow of magic within the tent dissipated, and the Earth Magic supporting the stone platform failed with it. With a dull crack, Margherita fell straight from midair to the ground.

She had stubbornly endured Ang's thirty lashes without shedding a single tear, but this fall seemed to become the final straw that crushed her emotions.

In that instant, she could no longer control herself. She choked back sobs as she cried, her voice quiet yet full of grievance and exhaustion, as though her stubbornness had finally surrendered.

Maya and Janice froze for a moment, exchanged a glance, and a complicated tenderness appeared on their faces—not pity for the weak, but an understanding of the soft heart hidden beneath a hard shell.

Maya hurriedly crouched down and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It's all right. It's over now."

"We'll take you back to your tent so you can rest properly," Janice said softly beside her.

But Margherita suddenly grabbed their hands, her voice urgent. "No... don't take me back. There are too many people... I don't want anyone seeing me like this."

The two women paused, then nodded.

At that moment, they both sensed the subtle change in Margherita.

This Noble Lady, who had once looked down on everyone, had finally learned restraint and begun to care about what others thought of her.

"I'll stay with her," Maya said quietly.

"I'll go ask the commander for some Healing Potion." Janice turned and left, her movements light.

A moment later, Janice returned, but she carried no potion—only a folded camp cot.

The two carefully helped Margherita onto it and let her lie facedown.

Red welts still covered her back and buttocks, burning with astonishing pain.

"Janice... where's