True to his word, when Gertal returned the next morning, he brought along a small stool. He perched on it near the door. The placement wasn’t lost on Lyria. He was willing to keep her company, but he didn’t trust her. He would always be between her and her freedom.
She couldn’t blame him for that. She’d be out the door in an instant if given the opportunity.
“How are we today?” he asked her as he put the stool down. “I brought you something.”
He ducked his head out of the room and retrieved another plate of food. To her surprise, a rich looking pastry sat on one side.
“The baker is a friend of mine,” Gertal said, setting the plate down with a cheery wink.
“So you have enough wolves here to have a baker,” Lyria observed as she picked up the plate, looking down at what was on it. To one
