Five glowered at him, but he stayed put.
“Good decision.” Tarquin slid his borrowed knife out of its sheath, examining the nearly healed scars on his arm where Edonay or Prea had used their magic. They’d be able to take the stitches out in a few days. “This won’t even cost much,” he explained, hoping that might appease Five, since he looked as upset as if Tarquin were about to hack his hand off. But all Tarquin did was give himself a much smaller cut next to the new line on the inside of his arm. “See? Barely anything at all. I hardly even felt it.” He sheathed his knife, then squeezed on either side of the new cut, making the blood come. Tarquin smiled grimly at how the red streak widened until it sent little rivulets of blood down either side of his arm. “Oh, you need to take the cloak
