He took her hands and tried to offer a smile to reassure her, though given the circumstances, he doubted it would do much. Instead, he paid attention to her questions, raising an eyebrow at the mention of torture. "Ella, you're not some murderer who won't be given any chance to defend herself. Remember who you're getting married to. You think I would allow them to touch you?"

Her shook his head in disbelief at her worries, releasing her hand and retrieving a wooden stool to sit down on. "I can't promise that you won't be asked any questions, but you'll certainly be free from any pain. I can guarantee you that much." He took her hands again, rubbing his thumb over the back of one of hers. "I really am sorry for what my father did. I can't exactly argue with his authority, however much I want to."

Marken frowned and pushed his forehead against one of the bars. "Still, this is better than the alternative, hmm? You'll be out in a couple of days, and my mothers would be assassin will soon be caught. It'll all be over soon." He gave her another smile, waiting for a response. Even if they were separated by bars, Marken wouldn't let that come between their relationship. (No matter how cheesy that sounds.)