“Who did this to you?” I moved to face him. A glove to my shoulder kept me turned. “That’s none of your concern.” “These are old,” he murmured. “Layered.” When his hand ghosted over my skin, I couldn’t stop a shiver. He traced the gnarled path of flesh along my back. Assessing the defective condition of his Champion. I dropped my forehead against the wardrobe, forcing my ragged breathing to stabilize. I was not in a sane enough state to handle the Heir. “These are from a jalda whip,” he guessed. The pressure moved to my right side. “A switch.” I eased the towel’s knot enough to reveal my lower
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