He slowed his exploration, let his fingers follow the distinct boundary of her wound, crossing her chest, let them return to the smoothness under her ...reasts and revisit her nipples. Then he let them return to her scarred shoulders, let his fingers oh so gently trace the network of unevenness, the creased depressions and tight ridges, as if he’d been admiring the exquisite tracery of a Moorish screen window. He found which depressions matched the width of which finger, caressed each ridge, each. The path to the Governor's garrison where a King's Guard reported was deliberately convoluted as a defensive measure, in case the enemy conquered the front gate. The hooves of their horses clacked on the paved streets and he strove to remember the turns he had just been told.The captain of the garrison was a sad fellow, typical of the mood in the smelly streets of Sardaford. Stefan kept Rayna at his shoulder as he made his brief report minus their side trip to Marakand; however, the man only. More

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