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... blood and excrement filled the stuffy air here, too. It was the smell of a battlefield, but concentrated in a single room, where there was no escape from it. Ginevra breathed through her mouth.

The prisoner, beaten, bruised, and recently missing half his fingers, sagged in his chains, unconscious. The torturer turned to Ginevra and tilted his head towards a bucket of water in a wordless question.

She shook her head. "No. He told everything I wanted to hear. Dress his wounds and t ...

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Dear readers! Fresh green style, maybe you will like it more in .