Outside of Hanrahan Keep, the sky had begun its slow, gentle shift from night into day. The stars had faded away, and the inky, velvety darkness above had begun to shift toward a lighter, brighter blue. In the east, beyond the gently rolling hills of Hanrahan Barony, a soft golden glow heralded the coming of dawn.
In the dungeon of Hanrahan Keep, Dame Sybyll had taken as much time as she could afford to question Ian Hanrahan. After hours of enduring her questioning, Ian's body was a broken ruin. He'd only attempted to flee once, and the punishment he received, the brutal shattering of every bone in his 'good' leg, had been more than enough for him to learn that any hope he had for a quick death was nothing more than a fantasy.
