Elliott caught the icy edge in Amelia's tone. "Understood," he replied, his hand reaching once more for the mountain peak—this time without hesitation, retrieving what he sought.
After a while, Elliott finished changing Amelia's clothes and lifted her gently. "I'll move you to the back chamber. No one will see you there."
Amelia offered no response, her gaze fixed on Elliott as he carried her, her thoughts inscrutable. Yet she still guided him wordlessly.
Once settled in the back chamber, Amelia spoke softly, "Elliott, don't treat me like this again."
Elliott nodded. "Never again," he vowed before stepping out to meditate, tending to the internal injuries from the earlier turbulence.
Still, he had left traces of his inner energy within Amelia—not to disrupt, but to fortify her constitution.
Yet this act cost him. Eight years of cultivation, diminished by over a year in an instant. Now, he would have to rebuild it slowly.
Meanwhile, Amelia watched Elliott through the wooden bars as he trained, her mind adrift in memories of their past quarrels. She couldn't quite define what she felt for him.
But over these eight years, the tedium of her life at the manor had vanished with his arrival. Teasing Elliott had become her way of staving off boredom.
Perhaps she had grown too accustomed to this rhythm. Her eyes lingered on him, lost in thought.
Elliott, however, was far more troubled. A mere touch, and such fury? Her demeanor turned cold so abruptly.
Perhaps my past sins run too deep. Maybe a life devoid of affection is my fate.
As he sat in meditation, his senses sharpened—footsteps, swift and approaching. His hand flew to his sword, ready to strike.
The sudden movement startled Amelia awake. Seeing Elliott tense with his blade drawn, she knew—pursuers had come. Damn this paralysis!
The door creaked open. A head peered inside, scanning left and right—only for a sword to lunge forth.
But the intruder moved like the wind, sidestepping Elliott's thrust with practiced ease before slipping past him. "Wait—Amelia, it's me!"
Henry's sharp eyes had already spotted her. Amelia called out, "Elliott, it's Henry."
Hearing his name—not "Blind Man"—from her lips, Elliott sensed the shift. Without a word, he sheathed his sword and resumed his meditation.
Henry glanced between them, puzzled, then lowered Sophia from his back. "Amelia, I got an antidote from a soldier. Sophia first, then you." He held the vial under Sophia's nose.
"Ugh! Reeks!" Sophia jolted awake, gagging. Amelia, seeing it worked, demanded, "Henry, give it here!"
Henry hurried over, pressing the vial to her nostrils. "Gods, that's foul!" Amelia coughed, waving a hand—then froze. "I… I can move!"
Henry and Sophia cheered. Only Elliott remained silent, unmoved.