““He glanced at the thick scar across her palm—proof of the vow she’d made to Nehemia to free Eyllwe. Arobynn clicked his tongue. “It hurts my heart to see so many new scars on you.” “I rather like them.” It was the truth. Arobynn shifted in his seat—a deliberate movement, as all his movements were—and the light fell on a wicked scar stretching from his ear to his collarbone. “I rather like that scar, too,” she said with a midnight smile. That explained why he’d left the tunic unbuttoned, then. Arobynn waved a hand with fluid grace. “Courtesy of Wesley.””
