The torchlit corridors outside the infirmary seemed impossibly long as Sera Hudson followed the silent shadow-guard through Fenris Keep. Her wrists still throbbed where silver-threaded bonds pulsed against her skin. Behind her, the clank of Cain’s armor receded, but the bond in her veins buzzed with his controlled impatience.
“You requested an audience, healer,” Cain said, his voice low as the double doors swung open onto the apothecary’s interior. Rows of glazed jars and leather-bound tomes lined the walls. “Show me what you can do.”
Sera squared her shoulders. “I wish to inspect the infirmary’s supplies. There are weaknesses in your alchemical reserves—”
Cain held up a gauntleted hand. “You may inspect everything, but you will remain under watch.”
She met his golden gaze. “Understood.”