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Bracing his muddy cane on the raised
wooden platform, Chaol gritted his teeth as he
took the step upward. Even the thick, plush
rugs didn’t ease the pain that lashed down his
spine, his legs.
He stilled, leaning heavily on the cane
while he breathed, letting his balance readjust.
Yrene’s blood-flecked face tightened.
“Let’s get you into a chair,” she murmured,
and Chaol nodded. To sit down, even for a few
minutes, would be a blessed relief.
Nesryn entered behind them, and
apparently heard Yrene’s suggestion, for she
went immediately to the desk around which
Sartaq and Hasar stood, and pulled out a
carved wooden chair. With a nod of thanks,
Chaol eased into it.
“No gold couch?” Princess Hasar teased,
and Yrene blushed, despite the blood on her
golden-brown skin, and waved off her friend.