Chapter 185: Hell, Part 2
Everything hurt. Telmé liked the faint sting that came from touching Korin, and he was used to the low-level ache caused by proximity to, or being in, the Temple. But this this was truly hell, bound by holy chains and trapped in a holy circle. His body felt like it was on fire, like his blood was boiling, slowly cooking him from the inside out. He glared at the man who'd come to see him before. "Lord Seena, I take it?"
"Yes," Seena replied. He moved closer, and the familiar scent of cinnamon and cloves wafted over Telmé. Underneath it all, he finally recognized the damned scent that had been eluding him, though only because they kept shoving it in his face: wild rose, hawthorne, and garlic flower. Demonsbane. They must have been using it in the smallest possible amounts and hidden the telltale smell of it with an excess of cinnamon and clove. "You could tell us what we need to know, teach us. Everything would go so much easier for you, Prince Telmé."