Chapter 10
“No. I slipped it in there this morning when I handed it to you to dress,” Warin explained.
“Oh.” And then Benedict laughed a little nervously. “I hope you have more ointment than this. We will need more.”
Warin closed his eyes, trying not to let such words hurt.
They were spoken in hope, that they would have much more time together, time to use many vials of such ointment. Only Warin knew it would not be so. The ransom would be paid and soon, he suspected. Their time was nearly done. His heart constricted. He had not meant to care so much.
And because he could not think of one casual or flippant thing to say in response, Warin didn’t answer.
Benedict parted his cheeks and the fingers that had earlier probed him returned slicked with ointment. The ointment felt cold going in and together with the rain, which had begun to fall heavier, Warin shivered.