For the umpteenth time in three weeks, Victoria awoke to her face pressed against the floor of her very own dreadfully dark and dank prison cell of Fort Vaegar. Her wrists were bloodied and raw from the shackles around her wrists, as were her ankles. Thankfully, she could hear the Elitre and their master scurrying down the stairs to check on her. She sat patiently, awaiting her release by attempting to blow the loose strands of hair from her face.

Lucaese gave her a warm smile as he spotted her sit...