A searing pain in his side, a throbbing headache and an overwhelming hunger assaulted Chase''s senses as he awoke. He was disoriented and found himself in an unfamiliar room.


    Weary and weak, he attempted to sit up. Doing so intensified the sharp pains, adding a dizzying whirl. He sank back to the bed, his anger momentarily overshadowing the physical discomfort. Taking stock, he noted the fresh bandages wrapped around his torso, arm and head, clear reminders of his recent ordeal.


    Time crawled as he paused to gather what strength he could. Finally, after long minutes, he managed to turn his head and took note of his surroundings. The bed he lay upon was soft and luxurious. The ornate headboard and feather-stuffed mattress spoke to wealth and a position of privilege.


    The room itself seemed equally opulent. It was spacious and warm, bathed in the soft glow of a crackling fireplace. In the corner sat a plush armchair and a large side table beside the bed. The wardrobe across the room was as delicately carved as any Chase had ever seen, and bookshelves lined the remaining wall space. A piece of the ornate rug peeked out from beneath the bed as further proof of the grandeur surrounding him.


    Where am I? He wondered. More pressing, who has me? The thoughts circled about his foggy brain. Beyond the conspicuous display of wealth, nothing could indicate who owned the room and its furnishings. Was he in the hands of friends or the clutches of foes, and would he have much longer to determine the truth?


    The questions swirled in his mind, and a fog of confusion clouded his thoughts. Time was running out. With renewed determination, he attempted to sit up again. Pain and caution prevailed, and he forced himself to remain still. Just as he''d gathered the will to try again, the door creaked open to reveal a woman carrying a tray laden with food. Recognition flooded him.


    Lady Margarette Straith, now Lady Whitmore, entered the room. She was a woman of exquisite beauty a decade his junior. He recognized her from the halls of Amira''s family home in Prashia, where she had been Amira''s lady-in-waiting and close friend. He had watched her grow beside his Queen.


    Margarette''s unmistakable grace was undiminished by her burden as she closed the door behind her. Their eyes met with a flicker of surprise in hers. "You''re awake," she exclaimed with apparent relief.


    He reasoned that he must be within her home, still in the city. Lady Margarette had followed Amira to the capital of High Seat upon the former''s betrothal, continuing to serve as lady-in-waiting. He recalled her subsequent marriage to a Realdian noble, Lord Whitmore, which had led to her leaving the palace to begin her life as a noblewoman.


    He looked up at her as she approached him on the bed, his gaze drawn to her familiar face. Time had been kind to Margarette, preserving the beauty that had enraptured many young lords in court.


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    "Lady." He acknowledged, his voice a mere husk.


    She scoffed at the address, a playful indulgence in her tone. "Lady! Surely, we''ve known each other long enough to forego such formalities. Especially here, alone as we are."


    "Alright then, Margarette," he conceded. A fog of confusion washed over him, obscuring his memory. "Where am I? How did I get here?" He tried to recall, but the events prior to his awakening were a blank slate.


    "You are within my home, in the capital," her response was warm and welcoming. "As to your arrival, two nights past, my staff heard noises outside and found you sprawled on the lawn, half-naked, covered in blood and barely alive. I assumed you came here seeking refuge."


    "Yes… I," Chase began with halting words. Some of the night''s events came flooding back, and he hesitated, uncertain of how much to reveal. "Is there any news from the palace?" he asked instead.


    "Nothing significant," she told him. "My husband was summoned to appear there a few days ago, but I have no news from him. Aside from your sudden appearance and even more mysterious state, there have been no other notable events."


    "What about me?" He asked, "Has word been sent about my presence here?" He tried unsuccessfully to stifle his apprehension.


    "Goodness, no!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with innocent surprise. She had placed the tray on the table and seated herself on the bed beside him. As she made preparations to feed him, her hand brushed against his bandaged arm, soft and lingering yet also overly familiar. "Is something amiss in the palace? Since your arrival, I have focused on your care and recovery. I feel something is wrong, but I wanted to hear your story first."


    Relief washed over him. Margarette had yet to betray his location, and no word had come from the palace looking for him. She interrupted his thoughts with a question. "Will you tell me how you came by these wounds?" She asked, touching him gently again.


    "It''s best to keep that information to myself for now, I think," he mollified her with determination. "I have no wish to put you or your house in danger."


    A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. She wasn''t buying his non-answer, but she turned and took up a spoon from the tray and began to feed him broth. Spoonful by slow spoonful, she fed him, her gaze lingering on his solid, handsome face. Her attention was unwavering except when her eye was drawn to his exposed and bandaged torso. In due time, the broth was gone, and she turned to more serious matters.


    "I need to change your dressings and clean your wounds," she stated, her voice filled with concern. "Stay there; I will return soon." As she rose to gather the tray, a radiant smile lit up her face. Before she left, she looked back at him with a mischievous glint in her eye that sent a shiver of worry down his spine.


    After she disappeared, his mind raced. Injured and weak, he was at her mercy. He reasoned that things could be worse. He was safe, for now. Though a sense of growing unease lingered over him that he attributed to his helpless state, he shook it off irritably. Surely, he was being overly cautious. Yet he had felt a hunger emanating from Lady Margarette, not one that could be sated with food.


    His most pressing concern was obtaining some news from the palace and learning his love''s fate. He also needed to regain his strength, be able to get up and walk, and function. Given his current condition, he estimated that it would be days before he was fully mobile.