Jude POV
Strapped to a cold metal table, Jude wished he’d clawed Melisande harder before she knocked him flat with her magic. As it was, it gave him satisfaction to see the angry red slashes across her face. She didn’t seem to care, or feel the pain.
“This table has traces of silver in it,” she informed him, looming over him as he lay helpless on his back.
He stared into her eyes with a stone-cold wolf gaze, showing zero fear. His back felt on fire, along with the rest of him, but he would gnaw off a limb rather than admit that.
He focused on remembering the details of the walk here. The tower passageways had some kind of magical or otherwise artificial light–no torches. They looked as ancient as the rest of the tower.
Of course, even chained, he’d tried to throw Melisande down the
