(Previous Chapter)

After the passage of a watch, Ilarion was jarred awake by a heavy hand jerking his shoulder.

“Wake up,” said the now-familiar voice of one of the many guards assigned to him over the past three days. “The lady says you must eat this.”

He shoved a scalding hot bowl of soup into Ilarion’s hands, and some of the liquid spilled over the side and into his lap.

“Bloody hell!” Ilarion shouted, his mind coming instantly to full alertness from the pain. “What did you do that for?”

“Just...