“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said, his voice almost lost in the jumbled noise from the tavern. She splayed her fingers on the back of the ship, annoyed at how her nerves were humming, like they couldn’t decide if she should be afraid of him or flattered. “I’m better off than Roland,” she said. “His neck was already starting to bruise when I left.” His eyes flashed toward the kitchen door. “He deserved worse.”
