Chapter 7 · The Needle's Command

"Hold her arm still." The healer drove the silver needle toward my wrist.

I jerked sideways. The needle scraped my skin, cold enough to burn, and Calian's hand locked around my elbow before I could pull free.

"Try that again," I snapped, twisting against him, "and I'll put it through your throat."

The healer didn't even blink. She was an older woman in a gray wool coat, her white hair braided tight against her skull. A black cord hung from her neck, ending in a small iron charm shaped like a wolf's open jaw.

"Your Grace ordered the examination," she said. "You don't get to threaten the fortress healer."

"I do when she comes at me with a needle."

Calian stood behind me, close enough that his chest pressed against my shoulder blades. His body heat cut through the thin linen of my shirt. One hand held my elbow. The other was braced on the edge of the examination table, trapping me between him and the healer.

"You were brought here as a prisoner," he said beside my ear. "Not a guest."

"Then chain me to the table and stop pretending this is medical care."

His fingers tightened.