An hour later, Eleanor lay alone in the darkness of her cell. For the first time in several days, she was warm and the thin mattress that had been returned to her felt like the finest, most luxurious feather bed underneath her stiff, aching body.
The oil heater had been returned to the room, and she could no longer see her breath in the air of the dungeon cell. Her belly was full of warm, creamy stew that contained plenty of meat, carrots and peas. Compared to how she'd been living for the past few days, it was paradise.
Iron shackles still bound her wrists with a bar between them to prevent her from clasping her hands in prayer. Percivus had looked almost apologetic when he informed her that it wasn't time to remove them yet.
He still had more questions and he would be returning the next day to ask more, though he'd told her that he didn't need any names from her yet, unless she decided that there were names she wanted to share, of course.
