The Immortal Prince by Jennifer Fallon Page B

He obviously wasn’t in the habit of entertaining such a noteworthy guest. “Lady Desean! You honour us beyond words!”
    Arkady shook her head, wishing—not for the first time—that she’d married a man nobody had heard of. “You needn’t bow to me, Warden, or address me so formally. I am here in an academic capacity. You may call me Doctor Desean.”
    The Warden seemed a little taken aback by her suggestion but nodded anxiously in agreement. “Of course, your…Doctor. As you wish. Please…come in, come in…I have refreshments waiting for you in my office…”
    â€œI’d really rather speak to the prisoner first, Warden. Can that be arranged?”
    Again, he nodded anxiously, desperate to impress. “Of course. Timms! Flanel! Escort Lady Desean to the Row.”
    Arkady raised a curious brow. “The Row ?”
    â€œRecidivists’ Row,” the Warden explained. “It’s where we confine the worst offenders. I’m sorry…perhaps you’d rather have the prisoner brought to you in a place somewhat less…intimidating?”
    â€œNo, it’s all right, Warden. I’d like to speak to the prisoner in a place where he feels comfortable. Are you expecting Master Hawkes this afternoon?”
    â€œAny moment now, your…Doctor Desean.”
    â€œThen I’ll see you both when I’m done. Perhaps then I might avail myself of your generous offer of refreshments?”
    â€œWhatever you desire, your grace.”
    Arkady bit back a snarl at the man’s fawning inability to address her by the title she’d earned, rather than the one she’d married, and followed Timms and Flanel up the weathered flagstone steps of the prison. Darkened to an even more ominous shade of grey by the recent rain, the walls loomed over her so oppressively she found it hard to breathe. It was as if the architects of this building had set out to rob all who entered here of any hope of redemption.
    As they approached, another guard opened the heavily studded door for them, revealing a gaping maw from which Arkady imagined she could almost feel the misery emanating. She knew she was being foolish; she knew the darkness of Lebec Prison could not harm her, but she hesitated before crossing the threshold.
    Her father had taken a step like this once, and never returned.
    â€œDoctor Desean? Are you all right?” one of her escorts enquired.
    â€œI’ll be fine,” she assured him, and taking a deep breath Arkady followed the men inside.
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    Recidivists’ Row was located on the fourth floor of Lebec Prison. To get there, Arkady had to climb four flights of cold, steep, narrow, winding stairs, pass through a cluttered guardroom reeking of stale cooked cabbages and then down another long hallway which bent at a right angle some fifty feet from the guardroom, opening up into a long narrow corridor with open-barred cells on either side. There were a dozen cells, six on each side, lit by narrow barred windows. Too small for a man to crawl through, the windows let in enough light to see the occupants of the cells, but not enough to remedy their pallor.
    The prisoners stared at her, some with curiosity, and some with total apathy. They were uniformly wretched, but she hardened her heart to their plight. There might be other men incarcerated elsewhere in Lebec Prison who were less recalcitrant, but no man without a past filled with other people’s misery finished up here, confined in Recidivists’ Row.
    â€œAre the prisoners allowed out at all?” she asked, as she walked slowly between the cells.
    â€œNot this lot, Doctor Desean,” Flanel assured her.
    â€œNot even for exercise?”
    â€œWhat good would exercise do?” Timms asked, as if genuinely puzzled by Arkady’s question.
    She braced herself as they approached the last two cells. Both were occupied. On the left, the prisoner was a Crasii; a huge