The castle was quiet again with the rubble had been cleared. The blood had been scrubbed from the stone floors. The guards who had lost their heads—literally—had been replaced by fresh recruits who didn't ask questions about the previous shift's absence.
Tauriel stood in her private chamber, looking out the window at the setting sun. Her long red hair cascaded down her back, still damp from her bath. She wore a simple silk robe, the fabric clinging to her curves, her nipples pressing against the thin material.
Behind her, on a marble slab, lay the body of the orc that Thalion had killed.
Or what was left of it.
She had fixed the damage Thalion had caused. It had taken time, resources, and more mana than she cared to admit, but the body was intact now. Whole. Preserved. Ready for whatever came next.
The torture program would continue. Just like planned.
