“The king wants you alive,” he hissed. “He wants you questioned by the captain. He wants you tortured until you squeal like a pig about your beloved rebellion.” He took an aggressive step toward me, his dagger now pointed in my direction. ”The king rewards handsomely when he gets what he wants. Show me the wound.” I shifted my weight, ready to strike as soon as he was within reach. The pounding of my heart seemed to echo through the walls of my cell, each beat thumping loudly in my ears. “Show me your wound,” he snarled, his voice low and menacing as he stepped right up to the bars of my
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