Page 109 of Peasants and Kings
“Aye.”
Nodding, I got up and went to shut the balcony doors. The sound of the storm faded immediately when I did. I latched them closed, but it seemed like a paltry defense after what had just occurred.
“I—who was he?” I asked, turning around to face him.
“Someone sent to kill me.”
His casually spoken words made my blood turn to ice in my veins. “Why?”
“Because I have a lot of enemies, Sterling.”
“But we’re on a private island,” I stated.
“No place is impenetrable,” he replied with a negligent shrug. He stood up, looming tall and fierce.
“Let me see it,” I demanded, shooting toward him, making sure I maneuvered around the puddles of water.
He slowly removed the corner of the sheet from his wound, and I saw a slice on the opposite side of his other scar.
“It’s just a graze.”
“Just a graze,” I repeated, feeling tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Someone had hurt him, and I wasn’t prepared for the anguish it caused me.
He pressed the sheet back to his wound. With a shaking hand, I grasped his elbow and urged him toward the bathroom.
“Are you going to play doctor? Patch me up?” he asked with a gruesome smile.
I didn’t reply as I flipped on the light of the master bathroom. I waved him to sit down and he perched on the closed toilet seat, the sheet littering the floor as he continued to hold it to his side.
“Look in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror,” he said. “There should be antiseptic and skin glue.”
“He cut you. Why did he have a knife?” I asked, finding the supplies I needed. “I mean, why didn’t he use a gun or something?”
“I didn’t have time to stop and have a blether with him,” he said darkly. “Can we hurry this along. I’ve got a mess to clean up.”
“And I’ve gotyouto clean up,” I snapped. “So you can just sit there and be pampered for like, five fucking minutes.”
He suddenly smiled.
“What?” I asked warily. “What’s that grin for?”
“You’re worried about me.”
“Uh, yeah.” I hastily pulled back my hair into a lopsided messy top bun and then washed my hands. “I couldn’t see anything that was happening. But the sounds…my imagination was in overdrive.”
I brought my supplies to the end of the counter and then squatted down in front of Hadrian. I removed the sheet so I could get another look at the wound. It was no longer seeping and most of the blood had started to clot. It was clearly superficial, but I was still going to treat it like it was a life or death situation.
If it had been anyone else, they’d be dead. But Hadrian had enough skill to fight off someone he had referred to as a professional.
“Did you lie to me this afternoon?” I asked.
I tried to be gentle, and as I cleaned his wound he didn’t wince or react.
“Lie about what?”
I blew on his injury, wanting the skin to dry before I glued it together. “You called me by my real name,” I reminded him. “Ramsey told you, didn’t he?”
“No. Ramsey didn’t tell me.”
