““As unaffected by her sickness as he’d been by killing those men, Nykyrian wet a cold washcloth and held it against the back of her neck until she was finished. He handed the cloth to her and flushed the toilet. “Feeling better?” She couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she stared at the dark stains on his coat and shirt. “You have blood all over you.” He looked down at it. “It happens.” That made her sick again.””
