Tress stared back at him wide-eyed. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing," Rath replied, slowly unfolding and pushing himself to his feet. "Excuse me, my lord." He brushed by Tress, heart pounding even harder than it had when the crier had called his name.
He'd wanted to see Tress again. Why was he running?
Trying to run, anyway. He hadn't made it more than six paces when Tress snagged his arm and drew him to a halt. "Rath, what happened to you?"
"Meaning no disrespect, my lord, but I've already answered that question."
Tress's mouth tightened, eyes pulled tight at the edges. "You were lying."
Rath glared. "I'm not obliged to tell you the truth, my lord. In fact, I'm not obliged to tell you anything. And as you so clearly stated, whores are good at lying. Good day to you." He pulled free and did his best to storm off, but the attempt was feeble given his damned leg wouldn't stop bleeding.