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“Another splatter of blood on the marble. 'Where can we clean up your hand?' He lifted his head to look at me again. Still and silent and weary. Then he said, 'There's a small infirmary.' I wanted to tell myself that it was probably the most useful thing I'd learned all night. But as I followed him there, avoiding the blood he trailed, I thought of what Lucien had told me about his isolation, that burden, thought of what Tamlin had mentioned about how these estates should not have been his, and felt... sorry for him.” — Sarah J. Maas
Another splatter of blood on the marble. 'Where can we clean up your hand?'
He lifted his head to look at me again. Still and silent and weary. Then he said, 'There's a small infirmary.'
I wanted to tell myself that it was probably the most useful thing I'd learned all night. But as I followed him there, avoiding the blood he trailed, I thought of what Lucien had told me about his isolation, that burden, thought of what Tamlin had mentioned about how these estates should not have been his, and felt... sorry for him.