The training hall was quiet except for the drip of water somewhere in the stone walls. I sat on a bench near the weapon racks, fingers curled into fists to stop the shaking. My knuckles were scraped raw, blood dried in the creases. The ambush had rattled me more than I wanted to admit.
Darius appeared in the doorway without a sound. He carried a basin of water and strips of linen, moving like he'd done this a thousand times before.
"Let me see."
I didn't argue. My body ached too much for pride.
He knelt in front of me and took my hand, turning it over to inspect the damage. His fingers were warm, steady. The kind of hands that belonged to someone who never hesitated in a fight but could still be careful when it mattered.
"This is going to sting."
"I've had worse."
He dipped a cloth
