#lyrna

Her eyes peered into the shadows, seeking a face, seeing only the dim outline of a shaven head, blocky and gleaming from the light above. A grunt as the blocky head tilted. “Don’t look so mad now. Pity, you’ll soon wish you were.” Lyrna tried to speak, but found the words caged by whatever was clamped into her mouth, secured in place by leather straps about her head. She looked down at her hands, seeing a faint glint of old metal on her wrists. She gave a tug, chains snapping taught, the shackles chafing her skin. “Overseer thought you were a nuisance,” the voice said. “Wanted to toss you overboard. The master wouldn’t have it. My Volarian isn’t good, but I think he said something about breeding stock.” Lyrna heard no malice in the voice, just indifferent observation. She grimaced as the pain returned, closing her eyes as tears seeped forth, the agony sweeping across her scalp and face in waves. Her skin, her hair, burning . . . She abandoned herself to the sobs that wracked her, collapsed to the damp wooden planking, shuddering in sorrow, drool flowing around the gag. It could have been hours, or days even, before exhaustion took her. She was always grateful there were no dreams lurking in the void that claimed her.

Book Review: Raven's Shadow Book 2 - Tower Lord by Anthony Ryan