"Begging is unseemly of a noblewoman, Lady Eleanor," Percivus said coldly, his voice as clinical as his movements as he finally pulled the tattered robes free and tossed them carelessly into the corner of the cell.
He released his grip on her, and Eleanor immediately collapsed back onto the rough wood and leather cot, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself despite the chains. The thin shift that remained provided minimal coverage, and while it preserved her modesty, it did nothing to protect her from the biting cold that immediately began seeping into her bones now that the heavy robes were gone.
She felt naked despite the shift. Not physically exposed, but stripped of something far more precious than just the garment itself.
Percivus looked down at her for a moment, and there was something almost like satisfaction in his expression. Not the satisfaction of a man who had humiliated a woman, but the satisfaction of someone who had completed a necessary task.
