In the hour that had passed, the torn flesh around his throat had already started to heal. Enough fleshy tissue had regenerated so that his spine no longer gleamed through like a macabre illustration of living anatomy. Lying on his side as he was, blood and other fluids dripped down onto the floor from his wound instead of pooling there and hindering his airflow, but still there was a gurgling quality to the breaths he took. A bloody wash of fluids splattered out in a wide bursting spray as Dontaine went into a coughing, choking fit.

I rushed to his side, not able to do much but hold onto his shoulders and support him until the body-shaking paroxysm passed.

"Why is no one with him?" I asked, my voice harsh.

"He is an injured male. Who would you have had me tend him?" Gryphon asked.

"Anyone. He's hardly dangerous the way he is."

"On the contrary," Gryphon corrected me. "He is even more dangerous in this condition. Weakened, feeling vulnerable."

"Surely his family, at least, could have stayed with him."

"Lady Margaret and Francine wished to. I did not allow it," Gryphon returned coolly. "They had the option of taking him or leaving him here for you. They elected to leave him."

"If he's so dangerous, why are you letting me tend him?"

"You, milady, he will not harm." But both he and Amber were watching Dontaine quite carefully.

I blew out an exasperated breath and concentrated on Dontaine. "God, I don't know what his family expects me to do for him. What you expect me to do for him. Not much I can do, really. But we can at least start with basics. I need a basin of water, towels—lots of them—clean linen, and some clean pants for him."

No one moved.

"We cannot get infections," Amber said in his deep rumbling voice.