Rannok struggled into a sitting position as Wren came into the room and shut the door behind her, oil lamp swinging in her hand. He hadn't moved for most of the previous day, content to rest instead while his face swelled so far it pulled the stitches tight against his skin. He could feel his heartbeat in his lower lip. It kept him up for hours and stole most of his sleep. 

When he did, his head filled with pictures of Griffon's throat being torn out. Of men grabbing him and holding him down and punching him over and over again. Of an old man dragging his bloody stump across the dirt. He wished he could forget the fireworks or the caravan, but they plagued him in his sleep. It wasn't until now that he realized they'd been plaguing him since he left, and that's why he always woke up in the morning covered in a cold sweat.

He flinched unwittingly as she moved across the room a little too fast and bent down beside him. She dabbed at the cut on his lip with a cloth soaked in something that stung like mad. The oil lamp reflected off her eyes. They were stark and hard in the dim light. 

"That hurts," he said. She pulled the cloth away and soaked it more antiseptic, then dabbed it on the wound. He swore under his breath. "How bad does it look?"

"Not great." She frowned. "They're crusting over. Is that supposed to happen?"

"I don't know, ask Ittra--ouch." She tugged at one of the stitches, then wiped them with the cloth. He closed his eyes and waited for the burn to subside. He heard her fold the cloth up and throw it beside her, then sit down next to him.

"What really happened?" she asked. His heart fluttered and he folded his arms, unable to look at her or even try to hide what he was feeling. She couldn't know. It would hurt her, moreso than he didn't trust her, but there was that, too. She didn't need to know who it was that beat him up. 

"I told you, I got mugged," he said. She turned to face him, sitting cross-legged on the floor, face unreadable and not at all pleased. He fixed her with a stare. "I. Got. Mugged. What do you want me to say?"

"You're a terrible liar. I can't even figure out why you're doing it," she said. The pit of guilt in the bottom of his stomach came back. He swallowed it down again and forced himself to meet her eyes, to make it look like he was serious. Like he wasn't someone she could just ignore when it suited her and pay attention to when it didn't. A bit of anger sparked in his chest. He tried to cool it before the words came from his mouth.

"Look, leave it alone, okay?" 

"I can't. It could be me next time, or Ittra. Don't you understand that? It's not just about you."

"I know," he said. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, just the tips of her fingers. "You can't help me by yourself. The best thing you can do is stay at wherever Ittra sent you and keep your head down."

She withdrew her hand and folded her arms, then looked away from him. "I'm a lot stronger than you think I am." Her voice had the littlest edge to it. "I found out today that the person in charge of the city wants to shut down the brothel and kill all the marked ones. I haven't told anyone yet. There's--apparently he's sent some sellswords out to keep an eye on us."

Rannok's eyes widened. His heart jumped into his throat and he stared at her. The thought of them storming the brothel and taking her hostage terrified him. The thought of what they would do to her. "Where did you learn that?" he asked. He was afraid of what the answer would be.

"It was my decision," she said, and her look back at him was not frightened at all and just as hard. "Don't question it. Please."

"Did you--"

"Yes."

He tried not to show her how worried he was. He wondered if she'd been scared. If she felt like she had to, even if no one told her that she did. If that's why she'd tried with him, to get it out of the way first. All of the sudden, in a certain way he felt terrible for having told her no, even if she would have hated him even more after. Even though he was glad he had.

Rannok sighed. "It was some men who didn't like marked ones. They caught me, they beat the shit out of me, and one of them broke it up before they killed me. I got really, really lucky. I don't even know who they are." The lie burned as it rolled off his tongue.

"Thank you," she said. He let a small breath of relief leave his lungs as her eyes softened and she uncrossed her arms. He didn't know how long he could hold up the lie before she found out. When she did, she was going to hate him again, but that was okay. It was okay as long as she was safe and he was safe and Elyn and Michael and Ittra were safe. That wouldn't happen.

  He stared at the wall behind her instead of at her. His eyes stung and he resisted the urge to wipe them. "Can you see it, when you go to sleep at night? The caravan, I mean." His voice came out of his throat as a croak more than a whisper. He wiped at his face and stared blankly at the wall across from them.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, covered in sweat. It feels like someone's chasing me, and when I wake up, for a second it feels like I'm still there. And when I go back to sleep I just see it again. Sometimes I see your mother. I thought she was still alive until I rolled her over and saw they cut her throat..." He fought to catch his breath. To stop crying so he could talk, though he hadn't realized until now that he was. "Sometimes I see Cain or Griffon or the guy whose leg I ripped off with the bombs. And now when I go to sleep I see those men punching me in the face. I'm so tired, Wren. I'm so tired and I can't sleep. Not for more than a few hours."

She leaned back against the wall and Rannok could see that her eyes were shiny and wet. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, and this time she did not let go. He was afraid his heart might rip out of his chest, or explode and leave him in pieces. He ran his other hand through his hair.

"Sometimes I see the man who tried to rape me," she said. Her quiet voice pierced the silence like a knife. "I stabbed him to death. I felt...it felt good, and that scared me. It still does. But it never wakes me up at night."

Rannok's face went white. He wondered if she'd ever told that to anyone before. Her hand was warm in his, like a lifeline as they sat there in silence, not needing to say anything more at all.