8
Sienna walked out of the medical wing with Rachel’s warning echoing through her mind and a vision of the young woman’s hand clutching at the sheets, white-knuckled as she faced an unending nightmare. Would she end up that way if she crossed the border once more?
“Sienna, wait a moment.”
Her father’s voice made her turn and Sienna waited in the corridor for him to catch up.
John Farren’s gait was hobbled, his back torn beyond repair from the tortures of the dungeon below the Castle of the Shadow. He kept the suffering from his face most of the time, but Sienna knew that chronic pain tormented him at night, and plagued his waking hours. She had once believed her father lost on an expedition many years ago, and perhaps it was best to think that was still true. She had not told her mothe
