"The problem with lying is that your body keeps telling the truth."
***
Marcus's wound was shallow. A surface laceration that had sliced through fabric and skin without reaching muscle or bone.
But the sight of his own blood immediately drained all the color from his face.
His mouth opened and closed several times. No sound emerged. When he finally found his voice again, it came out as a strangled squeak.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no. Is it poisoned? The manual says goblin weapons are often coated with toxins and venoms, and if I'm going to die from blood poisoning I need to write a letter to my mother first, and I haven't updated my will and—"
"You're not going to die," Seraphina assured him. Already pulled bandages from her kit. Her movements were smooth and sure. The result of years of training. "It's a clean cut. No signs of infection or poisoning. The blade wasn't coated with anything worse than old blood."
