Seth and Gibraltr
The Palace - The Next Day
Gibraltr lay on his stomach in his dungeon cell beneath the arena.
‘I’m sorry my friend,’ Seth said internally to Gibraltr.
‘No need. We’ve endured worse,’ Gibraltr replied.
I haven’t, Seth thought.
He really didn’t know how he was going to get out of this one. Treason? How had the Sovereign come to that conclusion?
He hadn’t purposely tried to betray the Nation. It had just sort of happened.
Yes, he had been selfish and blatantly broke a number of laws. But a death sentence? He just didn’t understand.
And the pain. The pain was maddening. He couldn’t move without the wounds on his back cracking open again. Chase had used a whip with knotted ends meant to inflict the most damage possible.
He heard the lock in the door of his cell. But he couldn’t turn to see who was coming in.
“Leave us,” a familiar voice said.