Chapter 9

Her eyes, almost swollen shut, were dulled with medicine and pain. Her mouth was tightly set, but otherwise, her face was slack. Her chest barely rose with shallow breaths, and she didn’t move as the Baret neared.

Pulling up a chair, he turned it around and sat with his arms draped over the back. He studied the patient for a moment, pensive. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and soft. “I know how you feel. More than once, I was where you are now, and I have scars to remind me. I know you need your rest, and I know you aren’t in the mood to entertain questions. But mine must be answered.”

Robyne glanced at him from the corner of her eye without turning her head. Then she blinked, which he took it as encouragement to continue.

“My lady, where is Princess Jaelin?”

Tears shone in the wounded creases around her eyes. Her mouth worked nervously. When she spoke, her voice was dry and desiccated, like rustling leaves. “I don’t know.”

He forced the anger from his voice. “What do you mean?”