SERENA

"Sylaise's tits, that hurts!" I hiss, as I stumble through the mansion's front doorway.

I clutch tight onto my bleeding left side, a wide, stinging cut aching beneath. A portion of it rubs against the bottom of my leather chestplate, making the still seeping gash sting a hundred times worse.

Fenris rushes out of his room on the second floor. "What happened?" He hustles down the steps toward me.

"Nothing. I was careless. I'll be fine," I insist.

But even I know that's a lie. It's going to take more than a healing poultice or single night's rest to cure this wound. Serves me right for letting myself get so distracted of late. What a rookie mistake. And while living with a witness now, no less! Just what was I thinking?

Fenris nears and lifts my hand to peek at the injury.

He frowns. "Take it off," he demands.

"I said I'll be fine!" I roll my eyes.

"Vhenedis, woman! Take it off!"

I flinch.

Oh, he's serious. He's not going to let this go.

I purse my lips and nod, accepting the realization, however unexpected.

"Can we . . . at least do this upstairs? I don't think I can keep standing much longer . . ." I hunch forward a bit further to demonstrate my point.

Fenris sighs. He slings my right arm over his shoulder and helps guide me up the stairs, one slow limp at a time—grunts and quiet curses included.

He sets me down gently on the wooden chair I keep by my bedroom windows. All I can see beyond the dusty panes tonight are the occasional golden fireflies, flickering in the moonless night. I should've known better than to wander about alone on such an evening. Lowlifes always gather when the nights are darkest. But for some awful reason, I thought I'd be fine on my own. I needed to be alone. To get my mind off . . . Well, everything. Another poor miscalculation on my part. One of many this past week, ever since I first moved in and saw Isabela with Hawke.

Yet, it seems I've still yet to learn my lesson.

I groan and lift my hand off my wound.

My palm's covered in blood. That's going to be lovely to wash off later.

Fenris starts searching for medical supplies in my nearby travel pack on the floor, while I continue staring at the sticky liquid. He pulls out a small poultice and a handful of wadded-up bandages, then turns to face me again.

He stands there, just watching me. Intently. Clearly waiting.

I gulp and reach for the bottom of my chestplate. "Don't look," I tell him and pivot away, ever so slightly.

He turns around, as asked, and I take the top of my armor off.

It's strange undressing like this in front of him. Even when he's not looking. I've had to change, quite literally, in front of dozens of other comrades before now, and I've never felt nervous or shame. But with him, my heart's getting all a flutter, like some inexperienced apprentice worried he'll catch the teeniest glimpse.

It's so unlike me. I hate it. I hate feeling like this. But I can't seem to shake it. No matter how illogical it seems.

My entire body trembling, I hold my chestplace tight to my chest and make sure it covers any exposed bits. "Okay. You can turn back around now," I tell Fenris.

Fenris doesn't hesitate and kneels by my side. He starts applying the poultice to the gash, building it up along the entirety of the cut.

I suck in air through clenched teeth at his touch. "Fenedhis," I curse, the stinging worse than if I got blighted ocean water in the wound.

"Why didn't you go to the abomination?" he asks, still dabbing on the poultice, one cringe-worthy pat at a time. His slowness perhaps an intended punishment.

"He's still beating himself up about what he almost did to that girl. I don't want to bother him."

Fenris doesn't respond. He doesn't even look up at me.

He's probably thinking I should've bothered Anders, regardless, but he seems to be restraining himself. An astonishing but welcome consideration since I know how much the mage's most recent actions almost vindicated his past worries about him.

"What. Happened?" he asks as he starts unwinding the bandages in his hands.

"An ambush. A few slavers." I wince again under his delicate touch. "They were looking for some elves to prey on by the docks. I happened to suit their fancy."

"You killed them, I take it?"

"Joyfully." I smirk.

Fenris flashes his typical half-smile. "There." He ties the bandage and stands up. "That should do for now. You should visit a healer in the morning. Whether it is the abomination or someone else, I leave up to you. Next time you go out at night, have someone accompany you so this does not happen again."

He walks back over to my pack and stuffs the leftover first aid materials inside.

"I got a cut, Fenris. Not my guts torn out. This is nothing to be concerned about."

"This time it was a cut." He turns and scowls at me. "Next time it could be worse. You are not invincible, Serena. Although you try to be."

He kneels in front of me once more.

Lifting two fingers, he strokes the top of my bandage in a soft caress.

"Having a scar on this flesh would be a terrible sin," he says, looking up at me with a piercing, seductive gaze.

My breath hitches in the back of my throat. "Yes . . . Yes, it . . . would be," I whisper.

And although I know it goes against all reason, I'm confident a crimson blush burns across my cheeks.