"Well… This is quite the mess," Altair said once the door was closed. He took a seat on his bed, not so weary as he was annoyed by the interruption. He stared at Elena, covered in tears.
"It's your fault! You did this!" Elena said with bitter hate.
Altair would have slapped her if he had not been too comfortable to move. So Tasha backhanded her in his stead. Her lips split, and blood weltered down her chin.
"The wound will heal, Your Grace," Tasha said with a light bow. "Her Father should not notice."
"Father?" Vaguely recalling a shadow that seemed to cover the ruin of the Tribulation, he furrowed his brows. His thoughts were all but a mystery to the woman. "Tasha, how long was I asleep?"
"A few hours, your Grace."
"Then…" He glanced at Elena. "I won the bet."
Elena shook and didn't dare raise her eye to meet his, nursing her wound like a frightened fawn.
"Tell me what happened?"
