“Where are you taking me?” It was all she could do to resist throwing a fist in this man’s face, let alone keep her volume at a civilized level—and it must’ve shown in her eyes, or the way her hands balled up in her restraints, or her posture, because the guard’s response was prompt and clear.
“We’re taking you to your benefactor.”
“What do you mean, my benefactor?” She thought they were taking her somewhere to disappear. Perhaps she misunderstood the Carratian accent.
“Your benefactor is the person interested in getting you out of that Carratian prison,” the guard replied, and her brows bolted toward her hairline. Somebody was rescuing her? “He wants you brought to him. He has an interest in your well-being. Why anyone would want that is beyond me, but you can ask him about that yourself when we bring you to him. Once we drop you off, he is welcome to you.” The guard reached down and rubbed his shin where Linsora had kicked him in her cell.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish