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The Golden Fool - Chapter 17: What Bleeds, Runs
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Chapter 16: Teeth And Silence
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Chapter 18: What the Marsh Doesn’t Bury
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... but the blood kept coming, no matter where he looked.
He fought the urge to retch, focusing instead on the line in the grain of the table, the flick of Lyra’s hands as she scrubbed down surfaces with salt and water and a stain of blue that would not come out, no matter how she tried.
By the time the room was clean enough to fake innocence, Thorin had levered himself upright, cradling his arm as if it were a new, sullen animal.
The wound seemed to be clotting; Apollo would ...
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