Jolted, he sprang from the shadows and shoved the nurses aside. The guard raised his hand, and Turner slid between the man and his prisoner, accepting the blow on his back with a grunt.

The man instantly recoiled. “Dr. Turner. I wouldn’t . . . that is, I didn’t . . . I didn’t mean to strike you, sir.”

Turner bent down and lifted the young woman to her feet, holding her steady. “But you did mean to strike her.”

Her knot of hair now lay in long, wild tresses about her face, framing the passion there with a sense of banked fire. Something clenched in his chest as she stared at him, expressing respect and thanks and a bit of curiosity. Somehow she said a great deal without a word.

Turner forced back his shoulders. “Carry on, but with a bit of civility, please.”

One of the nurses grimaced. “Treat her like a delicate kitten, then?”

“Like a human.”

The captive woman straightened, her keen eyes still focused on him, then the little group collected themselves and moved on with her in their midst. He stood and watched until they were out of sight. Something about her left him in angst—as if he should warn someone of what he saw in her, protect people from the eruption about to occur—or protect something fragile and beautiful within her.

A rigid voice from the shadows jerked his attention away. “Doctor, what do you think you’re doing?” It was Superintendent Thornhill, six feet of grimace and authority, towering behind him in the shadows.

“They struck her—twice.”

“Out of necessity.” He folded his arms. “Is there any doubt she’s mad? You had no right to impede them.”

“I’ll not apologize, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Turner held his jaw tight and watched them lead her around the corner at the end of the corridor, that defeated wild creature taken to the cage where she’d lose all her strength, her will to fight.

It had always seemed both a bad and a good thing, this loss of will. There was a succumbing to calm . . . but also to deep despair. They lay in these wards until they grew brittle and stale.

“Do not forget your place. I am your superior.” When Turner didn’t answer, he lowered his voice. “You’ve found the pills I left for you?”

“I have, thank you. I won’t be needing them.”

His voice gentled. “You’re far more useful to me as a doctor here than a patient. Find a way to get some rest.”

“It’ll just take time.”

Thornhill put a hand on his shoulder. “What is it, a year now?”

“Two, sir.” And three months, two days.