“If you bow to me again, twenty lashes,” he spat.

The guard shot up, and the air in the hall went static.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace?” the guard stammered.

“You are a citizen of this realm and in service to it. You may salute me as your superior officer. You may salute me as a citizen of this land, and I am in a position of authority. But you do not bow to me. Ever,” True replied.

The guard’s eyes slid to his compatriot but then he looked back to his prince, nodded sharply, lifted his hand to his forehead and gave a smart salute.

True dipped his chin, turned his gaze impatiently to the other man who seemed frozen in his duties of opening the door.

When he caught True’s attention, he swiftly went about finishing his task.

He threw open the heavy, studded door.

True strode in, and Carrington, writing something at the table, his iron lit, the room cozy warm, his clothing his own—well-tailored trousers and waistcoat made of worsted wool, shirt of fine linen, what looked to be a cashmere rug thrown about his shoulders (also likely from his own home)—stood from his chair, his lips quirking in a triumphant smile.

True wasted no time wiping it from his face.

His knuckles were split and two of Carrington’s teeth were embedded in them before Aramus pulled him off and tugged him away, Apollo Ulfr needing to assist him with this effort.

Cassius stayed close to his struggling brothers while Mars took position before a prone Carrington on the floor and Frey Drakkar approached the traitor, staring down at him with distaste.

“This is not you, my brother,” Aramus said in his ear, grappling to keep control of True at the same time Cassius and Mars were positioning to stop Wallace and Luther from assisting their prince in getting free. “Do not allow him to take away who you are. Keep hold, man.” His grip under True’s arms tightened. “Keep hold.”

It was the last that got through to True.

He stopped fighting against his friend and drew in a deep breath.

When Aramus sensed he had control, he let him go and he and Ulfr stepped away.

True took another deep breath and jerked his head side to side in an ineffectual effort to ease some of the tension there.

“Aramus speaks true, it’s not you,” Mars stated offhandedly. “But also, he cannot talk if he’s unconscious, and we cannot torture him to any kind of success, again, if he’s unconscious.”

“Get him up in the chair,” True bit out.

Wallace and Luther moved.

Carrington groaned as they did as ordered.

His face was a mangled mess. His jaw might even be broken.

True did not call for a physician.

He moved toward him and stopped.

True then bent his head to look down at his hand, dug out one, then the other, of Carrington’s teeth and tossed them to the stone floor under the man’s lax feet.