Chapter 20: The Wound Closes

Thane's POV

I waited outside the east tower for the length of one candle.

I heard nothing through the oak door, not a shout, not a sob.

I stood with my back to the wall and my fists in my pockets, because I had promised her I would not go in.

When the door opened, Elsie stepped out with dry eyes.

She shut it behind her and leaned on it for a moment.

"He asked me to forgive him," she said.

"And?"

"I told him I'd think about it when the fen families have dry feet."

My shoulders came down.

"Is that what you want?" I asked.

"It's what I can give him today."

I took her hand, and we walked up through the keep without speaking.

In my rooms, the fire had burned low.

She stood in front of it, and the light turned her hair to dark copper.

"Take your shirt off," she said.

"Again?"

"I don't want that," she said, and I saw her try not to smile. "I want to see it."

I pulled the shirt over my head.

The linen came away from the wound with a small wet sound, and I braced myself for her face.

It was the same as it had been for eight months, black at the edges and the size of a palm, in the shape of a hand.

She didn't look away.

She stepped close and laid her fingertips against it, so lightly I barely felt them.

"Does it hurt?"

"Every day."

"Does it hurt now?"

I opened my mouth to say yes.

It didn't.

Her hand was warmer than the fire.

Under it the pain was loosening, thread by thread.

"No," I said, and my voice came out strange.

She watched the edge of the wound.

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