Lor blinked against the candlelight.
His eyes watered for a few seconds before they adjusted.
The room was stone. Arched ceiling. Torches in iron brackets along the walls. The floor was worn smooth by years of feet and time.
A large dark table ran along one side. Chains hung from the far wall on iron hooks, arranged neatly.
No sound from the city reached this far below the palace. No sound from anywhere reached here.
The air was cool and carried the mixed scent of candle wax, old stone, and a faint floral note.
Standing in front of him, close enough that he could have touched her if his hands were free, was a woman with long silver hair.
The hair was braided cleanly over one shoulder. Her face had high cheekbones, a soft jaw, and full lips that were curved in a warm smile.
She wore a black fitted corset top that held her breasts firmly and pushed them up just enough to show the soft upper curve of flesh.
Dark trousers sat low on her hips. Knee-high boots covered her calves.
