“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
Elise pauses with the gauze in her hands. “I am.”
“You came in without a guard.”
“Being afraid of you doesn’t mean I think you’ll hurt me.”
“I killed five people today.”
“I saw what happened at the gate.”
“Then you saw me kick one of your guards and bite another.”
“I saw you drugged, bleeding, and almost free.” She nods toward my side. “Tomas stepped directly into your path. You could have gone through him, but you threw yourself onto the stones instead.”
My side throbs at the reminder.
“Then one of our men raised a dart gun while Tomas was still beside you,” she continues. “You were the one who told him to get the weapon away from the boy.”
“He could have hit him.”
“I know.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“Not everyone.”
Elise waits. She doesn’t reach for me again.
“You can look,” I say.
She warms her hands before lifting the edge of my shirt. When she starts peeling away the bloody tape, she warns me first.
“You think stopping for Tomas means I won’t hurt you?”
“I think you had every reason to hurt anyone between you and that gate, and you still protected a child you didn’t know.” She cleans the blood from my side, working slowly around the torn skin. “I haven’t hurt you. I’m hoping that means you won’t hurt me.”
“That depends on what you’re here to do.”
“Feed you. Fix this dressing. Help where I can.”
The antiseptic hits the wound and I suck in a breath.
“Sorry.” She stops immediately. “Do you need a minute?”
“No. Finish it.”
She waits another second anyway, then continues.
“Why help me?” I ask.
“Because what happened to you was wrong.”
“Your people keep calling it a rescue.”
“Calling it something different doesn’t change what they did.”
Elise presses clean gauze over the wound and tapes it in place. Her hands are careful, but they don’t shake.