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“Wonderful bedside manner,” Wendel muttered.
“You’re welcome,” Konstantin fired back.
Wendel unbuckled his belt and lay down on the seat. Blood kept trickling from his arm. He put his belt between his teeth and bit down on the leather, like he had done this before and knew exactly how badly it hurt.
“Ardis?” Konstantin said. “You may want to hold his wrists.”
I glanced at Wendel, waiting for his consent, and he nodded. My fingers curled around his wrists. His pulse raced beneath my touch, though he was doing an excellent job of keeping his emotions from his face.
Konstantin shaped an invisible sphere in his hands. Between his fingers, a green glow flickered into a burning ball of light. He inspected the magic, his eyes gleaming with fierce concentration, then poured it onto the wound with a terrible sizzling.
Wendel bit the belt to stifle a scream.
He was stronger than me, though he must have been holding back. I put my weight into pinning him. He threw back his head,the tendons in his neck taut, and moaned through his clenched jaws. Sweat glittered on his skin, which was feverish beneath my fingers.
“And…done.” Konstantin lifted his hands.
Wendel collapsed on the seat before sliding onto the floor. He spat the belt from his mouth. Shudders wracked his body. He curled sideways, breathing in ragged gasps, and hugged himself like he wanted to keep himself from falling apart.
An urge to protect him rushed through me. He was a deadly killer, but sometimes he just looked so…broken.
Kneeling, I touched his shoulder. He met my gaze, his eyes focusing, as if seeing me for the first time. Like that day I saved him on the battlefield and he clung to me.
“Are you all right?” I murmured.
“I will be.” Pain still roughened his voice. “Thank you for asking.”
A hint of sarcasm. Good.
Nothing of his wound remained except for a long scar across his arm, and the crimson that still stained his pale skin.
Konstantin pulled off his bracers and frowned at the blood on his fingers. He opened the door to the bathroom and washed his hands in the sink. Reflected in the mirror, curiosity sharpened his eyes.
The tension between me and Wendel had to be obvious.
Wendel grabbed the edge of the seat and hauled himself to his feet. His hair shadowed his face and obscured his expression.
“Blood everywhere,” he muttered.
Konstantin stepped aside to let him into the bathroom. Wendel stared into the sink, his eyes distant, while he washed the blood from himself. He gave special care to his hands, picking beneath his fingernails, scrubbing at his knuckles. Long after he looked clean, he let water wash over his skin.
Was he thinking of how he had killed Sven? Or brought him back?
As Wendel turned off the water, I glimpsed a grim kind of hope in his eyes. Together, we returned to our cabin.
I locked the door behind us. “Tell me the truth.”
“Be more specific,” he said.
“Why are you running from them?”
His jaw clenched; his hands curled into fists. He still wasn’t wearing his shirt or coat, and he tossed them onto the seat.
Somehow, he looked even more tense than he had during battle.
“You wouldn’t understand,” he said.
“Is this the first time you fought them?”
