“Should take a few minutes to set in,” he said. “You wear that thing to sleep?” He gestured to the sheath of armor around my arm. It covered me from wrist to elbow, made from the skin of an Armored One. It was scratched in places from the swipes of sharpened blades. I took it off only to bathe. “Were you expecting an attack?” “No.” I thrust the empty vial back into his hands. “It covers your kill marks.” He furrowed his brow. “Why would Ryzek’s Scourge want to hide her marks?” “Don’t call me that.” I felt pressure inside my head, like someone was pushing my temples from both sides. “Never call
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