Rowan carried Freya inside one of the rooms, with Louis trotting behind him. The man's face was filled with worry. He wished to be the one feeling the pain instead of his daughter.
"I will get someone to take a look at her," Rowan said, placing the girl on the bed. His eyes moved to her leg as he asked, "Do you remember what happened?"
Freya, who had been crying since the previous day, pressed her pale lips gently together. "We were trying to get to the border, Queen Oriana and I, when... the prime minister and his men attacked," she whispered in a low voice.
Rowan nodded at the girl's reply. "That's okay. The wound on your leg is not too deep. You'll be fine," he reassured her, moving to the side to give the girl's father space with his daughter.
Louis sat on the bed, his eyes filled with unshed tears as he gazed at his daughter. "I'm so sorry, Freya, that you had to suffer all alone."