Lyrna went to Iltis, finding him pale from blood loss and barely conscious. “My thanks, soldier,” she told the muscular young man as he approached. “Please, my lord needs a healer . . .”

She frowned when he didn’t respond, moving towards her without pause, his face still absent any expression. “What . . . ?”

He moved too fast for her to dodge away, large powerful hands gripping her shoulders and drawing her close. She stared into his eyes as they roamed over her scars, seeing only a blank sense of purpose. “Hurt,” he said and enfolded her in his arms, crushing her against the hard muscle of his chest.

And she burned.