Thoren
The man woke with a groan.
It was low and ragged, the sound of someone clawing his way back from unconsciousness. His head sagged forward as awareness slowly returned, dark hair falling across his face while the light flickered against the damp stone walls of the chamber.
He sat bound to a wooden chair in the center of the room. His wrists were tied behind his back and his ankles lashed tightly to the chair legs. A thin streak of dried blood ran from the corner of his mouth where Kael’s fist had split his lip earlier.
I stood across the chamber with my arms folded.
Kael leaned against the stone wall beside me. He looked relaxed, but I had known him too long to mistake that posture for ease. His eyes hadn’t left the prisoner since we entered the room.
The man groaned again and
