The pain lingered beneath Kael’s ragged clothing, as he had finished wrapping his wounds with the garments given to him. He dried the jug of water and ate the loaf of cold bread. As he chewed its hard texture, a series of flashbacks of what had happened to him earlier clouded his thoughts. He had come to endure every slap, scratch, spit … every shout and curse that barked out of their mouths … every little harm that they’d done to him. His public execution would come on the next day. However, Kael had no plans of making an appearance.Ever since they’d thrown Kael in this lonely cell, he became quieter than the cold silence in the dark, only words of shame about him kept on repeating in his mind. It pushed him close to madness. But then Robert, the son of Chief Gregor Doran from Frostwood, had come under a guard’s disguise to ask about the King’s whereabouts.“Answer me, Sir Kael,&rdquo
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