By Glenn Anderson Light filtered through the stained-glass windows, highlighting particles of dust and casting strange shadows over the castle corridor. A thick-bodied knight yanked on Varetta’s chains, pulling her forward by her wrists. Though the manacles made her ache, they were, in fact, useless. If they knew the magic she was capable of, they would have already cut off her hands. Snap. “Stop that,” the knight snarled. “I’m sorry,” Varetta responded, “nervous habit.” “Why