“It makes for a good disguise, no? Who would suspect a drunken idiot of being the most notorious assassin in Finfalla?”

“I don’t believe you.”

He snorted, somewhat impressed that she’d so easily identified what he’d thought was a very well-spun lie. “Fine. I drink because it helps me forget. And I picked the fight because no woman should have her arse pinched just for doing her job.” It was only half the truth, but that didn’t much matter.

“At least we agree on one thing.”

Silence fell once more, or at least it did within the walls of the room. Outside, the music and laughter, cheers and applause continued. Ludo always marveled at how the world never stopped moving even when he was frozen in place. It didn’t seem fair, somehow.

“I’m going to tend to your wounds now, so I’ll be in close proximity. Please resist the temptation to kiss me again.”

He grunted and then cringed when pain flared from his eye, which he tried to open. It wasn’t fully sealed shut, but the swelling was only getting worse. Which was bad for a one-eyed man. Of course, soon he wouldn’t be bothered by it. He should probably tell Bryony that before she wasted her time on him but knew it would only raise more questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“This might hurt a little,” she said, her voice closer now. He felt her weight depress the bed and then something soft dabbed at his cheek. He sucked air through his teeth at the stinging sensation. “Baby,” she said. “Anyway, you have enough grog in you already, what’s a little more on the outside?”

“You ever considered a career as the king’s torturer?”

“If it means I get to inflict pain on men like you, it sounds rather appealing.”

“I guess I deserve that. But I swear I wasn’t trying to make your life harder.”

She continued her work, dabbing at his wounds, which were numerous, likely cleaning away the blood and grime. Despite his jape, she was gentle, especially considering her real occupation involved inflicting damage, not healing it.

After she was done with his face, she moved onto his stomach, lifting his shirt to his chest. “The bruising is severe and at least two ribs are broken. I’ll need to bind your abdomen.”

“Sounds fun. I’ve never tried that with a woman in bed before.”

“Are you ever serious?”

“Not if I can avoid it.”

“What are you trying to forget?”

He said nothing, a face identical to his except twenty years younger appearing in his mind’s eye.

“Fine, have your secrets.”

He was eager to change the subject to one that mattered to the here and now. “Why were you asking that city guardsman about the Fire Eater?”