Chapter 14Bron D’Extrian planted both feet on the hardwood floor and slowly scaled to his full height. Obreé stood beside him, holding onto his elbow in case he needed support. Thankfully, he didn’t. Still cloaked in nothing but a variety of bandages, his flesh still reeking of floral-scented healing ointment, he staggered to the small stone fireplace, where he gripped the mantelshelf with both hands. He buried his toes in the fluffy kulpaca hearthrug, the shabby f**k-room’s only correlation to the luxury he had experienced in the palace.
“There now,” he said, smiling his triumph. “You see? I’ll be fine.”
“Fine my perfect pecker! You can barely walk, lad.”
“Ah, but I did indeed walk, didn’t I? That was the point. And if I can walk, I can certainly ride a horse.”
“Get you hairy ass back
