Ines was sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully unwrapping the linen strips from Carcel's hand, when the silence was broken.
"My lady, are you awake?" Edith's voice came from the other side of the door. It was soft, hesitant, but persistent.
Ines froze. She looked at Carcel. He was sitting up, his back against the headboard, still gloriously, improperly shirtless. The bruises on his chest were darkening to a mix of purple and yellow.
"Come in, Edith," Ines called out. Edith was already part of the conspiracy.
The door handle turned, and Edith slipped inside. She was carrying a fresh ceramic bowl of steaming water and a roll of clean cotton strips.
"I brought fresh water for the—" Edith began, her eyes focused on the bowl in her hands to keep it steady.
Then, she looked up.
