The face of an assassin (1)
The next days, Alexander doesn't complain even once about his wound. He just places his hand on a table, the palm up.
However, I can tell it hurts. I catch his grimaces, once or twice every day.
During the evening, I make sure my Duke is comfortable and warm. I let him rest his head on my lap when he seems in the mood for it.
I also started singing to distract him from the pain.
He doesn't seem bothered that I only know folk songs. He doesn't look surprised either. Just the usual.
I offer my help every time I can, and I write letters for my Duke. He speaks from the sofa, while I write on the desk.
When I'm in a very, very right mood, I sit on my Duke's lap and cut the food for him. Then, I feed him.
«I can use my right hand, wife,» he murmured once.
I just made him notice that his right hand was in the right place, so he left it on my back and opened his mouth for the next bite.