Shaking, and eyes glassy from withstanding the pain, Sina nods to Neasa's question-- she does consider Herian kin, as well as any others of elvhen blood. But she barely has time to realize what's happening before two cuts of a knife have mutilated the woman's ear, and then there's fire.
Sina feels like her mind is going in and out of awareness, caught between trying to shut itself down from the pain and terror, and stay awake and alert to get her out. It seems like she'll never stop crying, and she's not even aware of it anymore.
But as the magic flows back into her she finds that her senses are sharpened, and with them her mind. She feebly wills her hands to heal, the process slower than normal for dual reasons: she tends more toward herbal and not magical healing, so her skill isn't great, and also it's difficult to concentrate under such duress. As the skin renews, the angry blisters pop, draining pus all down her fingers, peeling and sensitive and excruciating and slow. So slow.
She looks at Herian with weary dread; perhaps there's a part of her that has already given up.