Daeron slowly lifted himself to his feet, his legs nearly buckled beneath him. He reached for the nearby stone pillar, one hand bracing against the nearest pillar as he fought the dizziness threatening to overwhelm him.
His breathing remained uneven, and his neck throbbed beneath Valerian's fingerprints.
His throat felt as though someone had poured molten metal down it.
He swallowed and immediately regretted it. Swallowing hurt, breathing hurt. Speaking would hurt even more. Yet remaining silent would likely kill him..
For several seconds neither brother spoke.
When he finally looked at Valerian again, he found the king watching him with the same expression one might reserve for a venomous snake.
They simply stared at one another. One looked ready to kill. The other looked ready to lie.
Valerian finally stopped directly before him.
"So tell me. What," Valerian asked quietly, "does the witch you brought into my castle want with my wife?"
