Kaelen turned and walked back toward the manor. His steps were faster now, angrier. He passed the fountain, the hedges, the empty kennels. He reached the main doors and pushed them open. Inside, the warmth of the torches washed over him, but it did not warm him. He walked down the corridor, past the study where the duke sat, past the kitchen where Rin would be preparing his next bowl of foul medicine. He climbed the stairs to his chamber, slammed the door, and leaned against it.
His breath came fast. His hands shook.
He crossed to the window and looked out. From here, he could see the entire grounds. The walls. The gates. The guards. He counted them. Eight on the walls. Four at the main gate. Two patrolling the gardens. More in the towers. There was no gap. No blind spot. No break in the pattern. The manor was a cage, and he was the bird.
He slid down the wall and sat on the floor. His legs felt weak again, but not from sickness. From despair.
