“The wounds will heal as soon as I pull the arrows out.” “Then why haven’t you done that yet?” “Because they will not fester, unlike your wound if dirt gets into it.” His gaze flicked up, and his eyes snagged my focus. The pupils seemed larger. “Are you worried about me, Princess?” I clamped my mouth shut. “You are, aren’t you? I heard you scream my name when I fell from the horse,” he continued, and it was weird for him to tease after riding in silence for hours—and with three arrows sticking out of him. “Your concern warms the same heart you’ve so grievously wounded.”
