Northstar Vale blood in the cut [m]

A hitch of her breath—they had stopped, and he shared with her the story of the other scars that marred his body. There was a spark of anger—that anyone dare touch him in any manner, and she had to swallow that emotion down, for it would do no good to rehash a past that she could not change.

“I don’t share our conversations,” she reiterated, understanding that he needed the reassurance of this but also curious if he felt that part of her personality. “Nor do I plan to.”

And then, another bristle—his worry that Germanicus would punish him for a preference he had no control over. “If he does that, then he’s certainly not the man I thought I’ve gotten to know,” she huffed, and continued forward, her ire not with Reyson but the structure of everything he had endured.

Then, with no filter whatsoever: “I hope your last commanders who did that to you go to hell and have to sit on a throne of porcupines.”