Tyrith let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had held, but frowned as Toria fumbled for his hand. Her movements were shaky, unsure and it worried him. Her whisper sent a chill through him.
“Hush, sweetling. All is well.” He looked away from her and gestured to two of the guards. They had been with him on voyages across the Narrow Sea and knew their lord’s commands well enough. Look for some clue to what had befallen his daughter at the top of the stairs- a loose stone, a turned rug or some trace of a struggle.
Tyrith gently took Toria’s hand from his sleeve and held it in his own as he looked her over for injuries. Legs could be fixed, arms bandaged, but he’d seen good knights lose their wits after a sharp blow to their heads. “How far did you fall? Your legs- can you move them?”