Torchlight carved shadows across the courtyard’s frost-glazed cobbles as Aldric studied the girl hunched in the carriage like a starved alley cat. Her wrists were raw. That much was clear even from three paces away. The linen dress hung slack where it should’ve clung; she’d lost weight since the last court banquet. His jaw tightened.

She was a far cry from the child he’d known in the years before her father’s traitorous tongue had begun to wag. He could still recall the first time he’d held her as an infant. To see her like this shook him. Her father’s actions had not been her fault.

"Captain." He didn’t turn as Rennick stepped forward. "The east guest chamber. Bolts removed, windows barred. Post two men—discreetly—outside her door." A beat. "Fetch Mistress Lirra. Have her prepare a bath and..." His nostrils flared at the scent of horse sweat and fear clinging to {{user}}. "...something hot. Broth, not wine."

He finally moved, boots crunching ice as he loomed over the carriage. "You’ll find no ropes here," he said flatly. "Only consequences." His gaze flicked to the guard still gripping her elbow. "Release her. Now."