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“You also promised you were helping.”

“Sometimes help hurts.”

“Spoken like a woman holding antiseptic and no sympathy.”

“I have sympathy. I’m simply enjoying the consequences of you tricking me into thinking you were unconscious.”

His mouth twitched again.

I cleaned away the dirt and dried blood as gently as I could. The cut was deeper than I’d guessed. Fresh blood welled along the lower edge before I dabbed it away.

“You may need stitches.”

“Add it to the list.”

“I’d offer to sew it myself, but I think we’ve already established the limits of my medical experience.”

“Aye. Baking and theft.”

“Exactly.”

His eyes remained on my face while I spread a thin layer of antibiotic salve over the cut.

“I saw your handiwork at dinner.”

His brows lifted.

“Isabeast’s mouth was a mess.”

“Isabeast, huh?”

The name had escaped me as naturally as though I’d used it for years.

“That may be the first honest name she’s ever had.”

A laugh tried to slip out, but I swallowed it and glanced toward the hidden door.

Lachlan smiled despite the pain it caused him.

“You like it, then.”

“I love it. I nearly said it in front of Father.”

“Shame you didn’t.”

“I’m trying to escape the compound, not get myself buried beneath it.”

“Fair point.”

“I’ve spent years wishing someone would see what she really is,” I said.

“It wasn’t difficult. She’s a cunt.”

This time the laugh escaped before I could stop it.

I clapped one hand over my mouth and listened for movement beyond the dungeon door.

Nothing.