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Rhyan had been still while I’d cleaned his wounds, but sensing what came next, he opened his eyes, and his hand reached past me into his bag. Our fingers brushed as he found the bottle he needed and pushed it into my hand.

“Don’t warn me,” he said. “I know it hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, unscrewing the lid. I poured its contents onto a fresh cloth and lightly dabbed at the toothmarks around his eye. His nostrils flared, and there was a twitch in his right hand, but other than that, he was stoically still as I worked.

“For the record, your father was wrong,” I said, moving the cloth as gently yet thoroughly as I could.

“About what?” he asked, wincing as I attacked a particularly deep toothmark.

“I’d wager everything he’s ever said to you, but let’s start with the scar and it matching you on the inside.” I paused in my ministrations, catching his eye. “You’re beautiful, Rhyan. You were before you were scarred. You are after. And you’re so, so beautiful inside.” I kept cleaning his wound, wanting to finish the job quickly. “His opinion of you, of everything, is total and utter gryphon-shit.”

His hand found mine again and squeezed just once before lowering.

Satisfied I’d kept him from infection, I grabbed a bottle of cured sunleaves and smoothed the golden paste over his forehead and cheekbone. I bandaged both areas and applied sunleaves to the scratch across his nose. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, his eyes barely blinking.

“All done,” I said at last.

“Thanks partner,” he said quietly. He pushed himself off the wall, starting to stand, but wobbled as he did so.

“Hey,” I said, jumping up. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he leaned his weight against me.

He coughed and straightened, running a hand up the side of his face, the shadows of his stubble darker than before. “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s get you back to your apartment.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m patched up. No more scarring,” he said dryly.

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “What they were shouting out there—Ka Kormac—that was a lot. A lot you didn’t need to hear, you didn’t deserve to hear. And, I don’t know, I just wanted to see if you needed to talk.”

He grunted in response. And I noticed him scratching at his right palm.

“Is your hand okay?” I asked, reaching for it.

Rhyan fisted his hand. “Just an itch.” His gaze met mine and I felt there was something he wasn’t telling me.

“I’m here if you do want to talk. You know that, right?”

“I’m just ready for the day to be over,” he said.

“I get that.”

We moved slowly through the city, huddling into ourselves as the wind picked up. There seemed to be shouts of victory from Ka Kormac coming from everywhere, leaving chills running down my spine. There had been no victory. Despite Brockton sinking his teeth into Rhyan, Rhyan had still bested their soturi in the end. But I could hear their howling through every open bar and restaurant window we passed.

We reached my apartment door together, but before I could unlock it, Rhyan put a hand on my shoulder, his fingers firm as he gently tugged me back. The door had been left ajar.

“Did you lock it this morning?” he asked, eyes jumping back and forth, assessing our surroundings.

“Of course,” I said, my stomach twisting.

“Wait here.” He stepped in front of me, angling his body to brace himself against any threat that came from inside. He held his hand up to stop me from following him, his body shifting protectively in front of me. “Lyr, just wait until I know it’s safe.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said. “You’re two seconds from falling over.”

“I’m not going to fall over,” he hissed.

“And I’m not waiting.”

“Can I do my Godsdamned job and protect you?” He inched forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other reaching out to block me. “Fuck, Lyr! Stop! If you won’t obey my orders as your bodyguard, then remember I outrank you as apprentice. Obey that!”