Page 119 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

I took his bandaged hand in mine. “What happened here?”

“Dagger,” he said, his voice rough. I unwrapped the white cloth, and he hissed. A large cut ran across the back of his hand. I’d need to disinfect and wrap that, too.

“It’s okay. I’m going to take care of that. What else? Your stomach was just hurting. Anything under your armor?” I asked, reaching for his leathers.

I ran my fingers along the clasp, but he grabbed my wrist, stilling my hand.

“Rhyan?”

His green eyes were wide and blazing with tears that didn’t fall. He tightened his grip on my hand.

“I’ll be gentle,” I said.

He took a few deep breaths, and nodded. “Sorry. This one just reminds me of when I was younger. He shouldn’t have been able to do this, but he knew how to get past the armor.”

“That’s not your fault. And remember, you fought him off this time. You took his key. You won this fight.”

He rolled his shoulders back, blowing air through his lips.

“Can I take this off?” I asked.

Exhaling again, he nodded.

I unclasped the straps and undid the leather buckles until I could ease the armor over his head. His black tunic underneath had a slash through the side, and a quick slide of the material across his torso showed a bleeding gash.

“Gods. Bastard.”

“The dagger happened here, too,” he said weakly. “Also, my leg.”

There was a knock on the door, and we both froze. I stood and pushed my hood forward.

“Dinner,” Rhyan said. “It’s just dinner. I recognize the knock.”

I grabbed my dagger from its sheath. “Precaution,” I replied. The brothel may have been discreet—but if the Imperator pushed hard enough…I wasn’t taking any chances.

Rhyan made a sound of approval before gathering up his discarded cloak and pulling it over his head as well.

Holding the blade behind my back, I blew out the nearest candle and unlocked the door.

An Elyrian woman with the long face, and golden-brown skin favored by Lady Pavi’s family stood with two silver trays floating over her shoulders. “Your dinners,” she said.

I eyed the expanse of land behind her, the small huts leading to the village. No sign of movement, or anyone else.

“Thank you.” I stepped back into the shadow. “Can you place them on the table?”

“Of course.” She pointed her stave toward our dining area, and both trays floated forward, their silver covers glinting as they landed neatly beside each other. “Anything else?”

An Elyrian man walked by, his face made up in heavy eyeliner. I tensed, but he was staring straight ahead.

“Yes,” I said, and offered the woman a silver coin, running off my list of requests: clean bandages, moonleaves, sunleaf ointment, and cold compresses.

She tucked the coin into her belt. “I can gather those at once, my lady.”

“Thank you. Please knock when you return. You can leave them at the door.”

Once she’d agreed, I locked up. Rhyan groaned again, shifting on the bed, but I held up my hand.

“Stay there.” I moved the dining chairs aside, then pushed the table across the floor toward the bed. A hot meal in Rhyan’s belly might calm him down and make it easier for me to address his wounds when the supplies arrived.