Jaxen's lashes quivered.
The searing brightness of the room stabbed at his eyes as he tried to open them, forcing him to squint. Where was he? The thought came sluggishly, heavy with the haze of sedation. This wasn't the dim cell where he'd been kept. The light here was too sharp, too revealing.
As disjointed thoughts spun in his mind, a murmur cut through the fog. "Don't even think about escaping," came a low, rasping voice, tinged with anger and indifference. "This entire spectacle is for your sake. Don't mistake it for anything else"
He recognized the tone before his vision cleared.
Florence.
His mother—if that word even held meaning anymore. Jaxen blinked rapidly, his sight sharpening enough to see her figure standing in front of him.
Two men flanked him, their iron grips on his arms keeping him upright as they guided him into an unfamiliar space. He stumbled, his legs weak, his body heavier than it had ever felt. The sedatives—they had doubled the dose.
