Rowan had delighted in ordering him to be thrown in, and though Eden had tried to leave twice, both times his passage had been blocked by reluctant but stoically obedient guards. “I’m sorry, Eden,” they’d said, familiar with him from his time as guard captain, “It’s the king’s orders.” He was a prisoner in his own home, and Eden didn’t know what to think. He was petrified for Quinn, left alone at his father’s questionable mercy. The king had no kind disposition towards those from Sha’sek. Eden tried to stop his imagination from running away with itself, but couldn’t stop picturing Quinn either being throttled by Shiver’s hand, or taking his dagger to her heart. Eden knew that his father was capable of such atrocities, and he could only hope and pray that his father really did need Quinn’s help. If Shiver found out that for some reason Quinn couldn’t help him, then Eden needn’t fear for her life—she’d be doomed anyway. As the sun had dropped below the horizon, he considered trying to get a few hours rest.
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