Sitting on her frozen throne in the Great Hall, Ashlynn felt ice grip her heart when Hauke was carried in. Chains bound his body, securing him to the chair that was so heavy it took several men to move, but even if he wasn't bound, there was nothing the young man could do.
His wounds from the battle the night before had been washed and bandaged but with healers in such short supply, no one had done more than provide minimal care for the young Frost Walker lord who many felt was responsible for starting the night of tragedy. If he could feel, the pain of thouse wounds would likely be immense but at the moment, seeing his vacant, glassy-eyed stare, Ashlynn could only hope that he wasn't suffering.
