Days passed, yawning into a chasm of solitude that felt less like a refuge with each hour. How could the hours have slipped away in the darkness of her cell, only to crawl now that she had all her freedom (such as it was) and cycles of watery, dim light to mark her days? She didn’t miss his presence, his arrogance, his riddles, or his too-keen attention. Though she could privately admit appreciating the skillful way he drew pleasure from her.