Though he was sitting, she knew from previous visits that he was half a head shorter than she, and in better times his build would have been stocky. Her father would have said “built like a wall.” His hair was curly and dark with a light frosting of gray. He was barely twenty-six. He’d been fifteen when his much older brother had incarcerated him in the Asylum.

The public story was that Kellen had been struck by a mysterious illness. Although he recovered physically, the pain had driven him mad. Jakoven built the Asylum for his brother, a peaceful resting place where the aristocracy could safely stow their unwanted members. For the past decade Kellen had been in this cell—but some people had not forgotten him.

Kellen had once told her that one of Jakoven’s wizards had gone to Menogue and received a vision that if the king killed his brother, Jakoven himself would die a hideous, painful death. So when the king decided having a charismatic younger brother was too unsettling, he created the Asylum.

“Tisala,” said Kellen again. “Rosem told me you were taken by my brother?”

It was not really a question, but she told him her story, including as many questions the torturer had asked as she could. She told him why she’d run to Ward of Hurog—not just the danger to Beckram, but the more personal reasons as well. When she was finished, he was quiet. She waited patiently.

“You appear well.” It wasn’t a casual comment, the years in the Asylum had made him distrust most people.

“Sire, the Hurogmeten has a wizard skilled in healing. Though he could not repair all the damage, the healer’s work seems to have hastened my recovery.” She showed him her hands with the nails partially regrown and turned her left hand so he could see the ugly new scar tissue.

He smiled his rare smile. In all the times he’d called her here, she’d only seen him smile once or twice. “So there is still magic in Hurog. I was told it was so, but I am glad to hear of it. We have need of all the magic we can.”

“Sire, Ward is not sworn to your cause.” It hurt to make the warning, but it was her duty not to mislead him.

“I know, Tisala, but Jakoven will take care of that for us—if his killing of Erdrick has not already done so.” He paused. “I rather liked Erdrick, you know. But Ward . . .” Kellen shook his head, eyes lost in the shadows. “Who would have thought that his stupidity was feigned? I knew him before his father ruined him—I would not have though he had a duplicitous bone in his body.”

“Survivors can’t always choose their methods,” she said.