Page 149 of Salt Between the Wolves
He closed his eyes, drew a slow breath, and waited for it to pass, but the pressure only tightened.
Something hot spread across his chest, causing Soren to frown as he recognized the sensation all too well.
Slowly, he looked down and saw a dark stain spreading beneath the leather ties of his shirt, larger than before and impossible to dismiss.
For several seconds he simply stared.
The first time had been easy to explain away as a scratch, a tear, or simple exhaustion, while the second had been harder to ignore.
The third left no room for excuses.
Blood seeped steadily through the fabric, not enough to pour freely but more than enough to demand attention.
The sight should have alarmed him, yet all he felt was irritation.
It was simply another problem, another weakness, and another burden demanding attention when he had none left to spare.
His hand moved to the collar of his shirt, and he pulled the fabric aside.
The mark stretched across his skin exactly where it always had, except it no longer looked the same.
The dark lines appeared deeper and angrier now, as though something beneath the skin had begun forcing its way outward.
A thin line of blood traced one edge of the mark before sliding downward, and Soren watched it travel across his chest before disappearing beneath the fabric.
"Idiot."
The voice came from behind him, and Soren closed his eyes.
Of course he recognized it immediately.
"I was hoping for something more original."
Varda stepped into the yard, gray hair escaping from beneath her hood while snow gathered upon her shoulders.
She stopped several paces away, and her gaze dropped instantly to the blood.
The irritation vanished from her expression.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
The answer came too quickly, but she ignored it.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You murdered a diplomatic envoy."
The statement landed with impressive precision, and Soren grimaced.
News traveled quickly.
"That explains the silence."
