Chapter 4: The Cells

The cells were under the north wall, down forty steps I took one at a time.

Torin Montfort went ahead of me and did not offer his arm.

I noticed that, and I was grateful.

The guard captain who had read the order at my door walked behind us with the keys, and nobody spoke to him.

At the bottom, a narrow corridor ran past six iron doors.

The Healer was in the last cell, sitting on a plank bed with her bag beside her.

She was a tall woman of thirty-eight with Torin's jaw and a bruise across one cheekbone.

She stood up when she saw me and then looked me over from head to foot.

"You walked down here," she said.

"The elevator was guarded."

"Of course it was. Sit before you fall."

"I'd rather stand."

"I'd rather you didn't bleed on the floor of my cell, Your Majesty. I have standards."

I sat on the plank bed.

She knelt in front of me and put two fingers on my wrist.

Her hands were quick and she did not ask permission, and for the first time in three days, someone was looking at me as a patient.

"Your pulse is a mess," she said.

"I'm sorry I couldn't turn him."

Her voice dropped on the last word.

"You tried," I said.

"I stood in a hallway and shouted. That isn't trying."

"They put you in here for it."

"They put me in here for the shouting," she said. "It was very loud."

Torin let out a short breath that was almost a laugh.

The captain unlocked the door and swung it open, and she picked up her bag.

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