“Not that I know of.”
“Aiden said you had a bad wound across your shoulders. May I see?”
His concern for me reached into that hidden, bleeding part of my heart.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Nikella carefully helped me out of my dirty shirt, the cloth sticking painfully to my shoulders.
The cold breeze swept over my exposed skin and pierced the open wound on my back.
I sucked in a breath the same moment Nikella did.
She slowly washed the crusted blood from my shoulders, but then hesitated.
“Is it that bad?” I grunted, my hands clenched around my knees.
“It’s hard to tell in the moonlight,” she murmured. Her cool fingers traced my skin. Not my wound, but the scars around it. “My brother did this to you.”
I stiffened. I would’ve jerked away if I hadn’t been so gods-damned tired.
“No,” I said harshly. “It wasn’t Renwell.”
“I meant my other brother. Korvin.”
My stomach plummeted as my thoughts shuddered to a halt—uncomprehending of the shadowy obstacle in their path.
Brother. Korvin is her brother. Which means, he and Renwell are also brothers.
I squeezed my eyes shut, realizations falling into place and more questions rising.
“He never told you,” Nikella surmised.
“No, he never told me about youorKorvin.” A bitter laugh broke past my teeth. “What Renwell didn’t tell me could fill the Abyss.”
Nikella hummed in agreement. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her eyes on my shoulders.
Dread stilled my heart like a bird who’d caught sight of a hunter. “How did you know Korvin gave me these scars?”
Nikella didn’t answer me. Instead, she spread paste on my wound. The cold stripe on my skin puckered. She gently eased my shirt back over my head.
As I gingerly pushed my arms back into the sleeves, she slid forward to sit next to me. Her shadowed gaze rested on the glittering mountain.
“The whip he used on you,” she said quietly, “he invented for me.”
Holy Four.I ground my teeth together to keep any sound from escaping.
She unfastened her cloak and pulled up the back of her shirt, turning to reveal a wide swath of her muscled back.
I gaped, thankful she couldn’t see me.
The firelight glimmered over a patchwork of scars. They told a story of hatred, of monstrosity. Her skin was gouged and stripped, probably from the sunstone bits Korvin had threaded into his special whip.
Was this how my back looked? I’d never seen it in a mirror. Had Aiden noticed the similarities in our scars? Or had he never seen his mentor’s?
Nikella’s looked... old. Layered. Carved into more tender skin that hardened over time.
“How could a brother do that to his sister?” I murmured, thinking of how Everett hadn’t even wanted to pick up a wooden sword to duel with me.
