"Stop moving, Rhys," Vivienne ordered softly, her fingers surprisingly steady as she pulled a bottle of clear grain alcohol from the bench. "If I don't clean this properly, the infection will kill you before my father's men even cross the pass."
"Arthur’s bounty cleared fifty million," I rasped, teeth grinding as I leaned back against the rough timber wall. Pain flared behind my eyes like white heat, tearing straight through my chest. "Every tracker from Geneva to Milan is scouring the border."
"Let them search," she replied without flinching, wiping the dark blood away with a clean strip of cloth. "They're looking for a helpless socialite and her wounded bodyguard."
"That's what we are," I said, my voice strain-rough and barely more than a whisper.
"No," she said, leaning down until h
