Naomi Phillips stared at the ornate ceiling of her quarters and wondered how a cage could be so beautifully decorated.
The room was luxurious by any reasonable standard. Silk hangings in warm amber and gold covered walls of polished volcanic stone. A writing desk of dark wood held crystal inkwells and fine parchment. The bed was large enough for three people, covered in furs that probably cost more than most people earned in a year.
It was also a prison.
"For your own safety," the temple guards had said when they'd escorted her here after Ashley's treatment. "The city can be dangerous for strangers, especially those traveling with the famous Thornslayer."
The door was unlocked, technically. But when Naomi had tried to leave earlier, she'd found two guards stationed in the hallway, their polite smiles as immovable as their crystal-tipped spears.
