"Stabbed," She stops, and he rocks back on his heels, heavier in his step than needful. Could be theatre. Could be his own balance ain't full back. "Dainty little thing, didn't go in far."

It's a good blade. Chipped a bit where the edge struck bone, and he'll play that up at the tables. She'll see him do it, soon as they're home, lay a new stack of peril on every hand.

They're not home yet. If there's a time and place for honesty, it's the road.