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Princess Lora gasped, her lips a perfect O of shock. Then her mouth pinched tight, and she twisted her body, sliding one knee forward as though attempting to stand. Mehl surged to his feet despite the healer’s protest, but before Toren could tell him to stay back, Sir Macoe had his knife at the woman’s throat.

Instantly, she stilled. “You lie.”

That slur was one more offense to add to her tally, but Toren turned away from her without comment. His frown was for Mehl. “Is your healing complete?”

“Nearly.” His husband strode over. “I’m no longer bleeding, and the scab is almost gone.”

“Mehl—”

“I shouldn’t have unbound her legs,” his husband mused as he scowled down at Lora. “Sir Macoe, see her fully tied once more. She can be carried to the dungeon once we’re through.”

With a nod, the captain knelt behind the princess and tugged a length of rope from a pouch at his waist. She didn’t bother to struggle this time, though her fear seemed to have shifted mostly to anger. Had she the power, she surely would have glared a hole in the floor.

Until Macoe gripped her hand to connect the rope to her other bindings.

Then she screamed.

* * *

Gods,her injury. Shame burned through Mehl to settle in his gut.

He’d forgotten entirely.

“Stop,” he commanded as he grabbed the woman’s shoulders to keep her steady.

The captain lifted his hands away. “I did nothing untoward.”

“She was injured in the capture.” Mehl peered at Tes and winced at how her face scrunched with agony and tears poured from her eyes. It was one thing to hurt a foe in battle but another act entirely to do so to a captive. “In the chaos, I forgot.”

“Vesset,” Toren said, gesturing for the healer. “Help her.”

As Vesset hurried forward, even Ria took a few steps their way, her brow creased with worry. A surprise, that. Why wasn’t Ria afraid? She’d been hurt by Tes. Held against her will. Yet if she felt anger or fear, he saw no sign of it.

Curious.

Tes shuddered in Mehl’s hold, reclaiming his attention. Sweat slicked the woman’s forehead, and her gaze had gone distant and unfocused. Whatever strength had seen her through to this point had apparently been wiped away by Sir Macoe’s unfortunate tug on her hand. She might hyperventilate before the healer could repair the wound.

Surprisingly, Toren knelt at Tes’s side as the healer sat behind her. “Should we unbind her? Where is the injury?” Toren asked.

“I believe I broke her hand when I knocked the knife free,” Mehl admitted.

An unfortunate action, but one he didn’t regret. Becoming too distracted by his own healing and her interrogation to ensure she received help sooner? That was definitely a point of shame.

Toren’s chiding glance only added to the emotion, though his words were directed at the healer when he spoke. “What course of action do you suggest?”

The healer caught Mehl’s gaze. “Hold her.”

Mehl barely had time to tighten his grip on her shoulders before a surge of power from the healer made her eyes roll back and her body go limp. Vesset must have rendered her unconscious. Likely a good thing, since his next action was to work at the bindings on her wrists.

Mehl peered over her shoulder and grimaced at the swollen, blue-and-purple mess of her hand. How had she blocked the pain enough to argue with Toren at all? It must have been agonybeforeSir Macoe had touched her.

“She’s bleeding,” Vesset murmured.

As the bindings slipped away and the healer gently separated her wrists, Mehl caught sight of the thin, red trail along her unbroken hand, the source hidden by her sleeve. He frowned. That injury he knew he hadn’t done. Not directly, in any case. Had she been hurt before? A memory flashed into his mind of the abandoned dress in the tunnels.

One sleeve reddened.

Toren frowned at him, but Mehl shook his head. “I didn’t do it.”