Suddenly an expression of concern replaced his smile. His second hand joined his first, framing her face in a gentle, firm grip.
“What is this?” He ran a thumb across her spit bottom lip. “And this?” She guessed he indicated the remainder of a bruised eye.
“I was distracted by pain when we met, but I do not remember you appearing so beat up.” He frowned. Eve did not know if it was aimed at her or his lack of memory. Either way, something made her tremble.
The Crown of Anavrea