1 Chapter 1

“Stand.”

Castien struggled to his feet for a moment, one hazel eye already swollen closed, his blond shoulder-length hair hanging in a tangled mass around his thin face and distinctively pointed elven ears. Then he collapsed once again to his knees. Rough hands grabbed his arms, pulled him up, held him erect.

“You will tell me!”

Castien summoned up a miniscule amount of moisture in a mouth dried from screaming, spat, and watched it land on the toe of the Baron’s boot. The Baron scowled then nodded to the man behind Castien and the lash bit into his already bloody, torn back. About to say more, the Baron turned instead when the door at the top of the curved stone stairs opened and a warder beckoned to him. He strode up to growl with anger at whatever he was being told and then pointed to Castien and ordered the guards to put him back in his chains. Castien bit back a cry of agony as they pushed him roughly against the jagged stone walls and affixed his wrists with irons to hang him so, being less than average height, his toes barely touched the flagstone floor.

The Baron came back to stand face to face with Castien. He twisted his hand in Castien’s hair to force him to look at him as he snarled, “Think,” while he pointed to the instruments of torture that filled the room. “Ponder your fate if you remain silent. You have one hour while I take care of pressing business then…” He smiled harshly before he turned away to beckon for the others to follow him.

As the door clanged shut behind them Castien groaned, the bite of stone on his flayed back taking him into blackness for a moment. He struggled to regain consciousness and through swollen eyes he searched the room. The only light came from the fire in a pit at the center of the chamber. Iron bars rested on one side of it and he knew all too soon they would be heated and used on him in a futile attempt to make him talk.

Castien felt himself weaken as blood dripped slowly from his wounds. With luck, he thought, if one could call it that, I will be beyond torturing by the time he returns. His chin sank to his chest and darkness claimed him.Chapter 2

Pain rolled over Castien once again and he struggled to escape from it. Then he felt gentle hands and heard a soft voice.

“Be still. I must put the balm on your wounds if they are to heal.”

Castien’s eyes flew open and he looked into the eyes of an angel, albeit an ancient one.

She smiled gently. “You’re safe now, among friends.”

A male laughed behind Castien. “He might well debate that description once I’m done questioning him, although at least I won’t use torture as a prod to make him answer.” He stepped into view. “You, my friend, look like hell, but you will survive thanks to Madam Neville. I suppose you would like to know how you ended up here and not in a prisoner’s grave.”

Castien nodded and the male proceeded to tell him of his rescue from the Baron’s clutches. It seemed the message that drew the Baron and his minions from the torture chamber had been arranged by the one who stood in front of him, Castien’s companion, the elf Daeron. Once the Baron had left the torture chamber, Daeron and one of his elven lieutenants were able to sneak up and overcome the guards outside the room. They slew them silently and then rescued Castien. Daeron told Castien he’d had his doubts he would survive long enough to bring him here.

Castien looked around and then at Daeron and knew from his response fear must have been written on his face.

“Only Richard and I know where we are, even Madam Neville is in the dark.”

She nodded and then gently continued her ministrations. Already the pain was fading. Castien tentatively moved his shoulders, winced, and she put a hand on him to restrain him. “Too soon, you do not wish to reopen the wounds. Relax and let the balm do its work.”

“How did they capture you?” Daeron asked.

The blonde bitch,Castien’s fingers moved as he tried to communicate with signs exactly what he meant. He felt frustrated when Daeron shook his head in puzzlement. Then Daeron held up his hand and Castien looked at him, hope and a question in his eyes. Daeron nodded. “Ange is here, I rescued her as well,” he said. He went out of Castien’s line of sight for a moment and returned to hand him a sheathed dagger. Castien took it from him with a sigh of relief, without her he could not fully communicate. Taking Ange in his hand he pricked his wrist, so the blood flowed. She drank her fill until only one drop clung to her tip, which he then lifted to his lips to take on his tongue.