[ this sort of openness would never be happening if not for this specific series of unfortunate events, most of which he will choose not to remember for the sake of his own sanity. gideon isn't exactly gentle when she sets to cleaning his wound, but it's better that she isn't. anything that could be construed as overly kind would raise his hackles. this entire encounter notwithstanding. ]

It must. [ so many things said aloud he's never voiced before. the mere touch of the hot cloth on the bite is akin to the sensation of what he imagines it might feel like to have his arm sawn off. darkness tinges the edges of his vision, a crease between his brows, but he remains still, his eyes locked on some fixed point near harrow's portrait. ] My uncle's sins cannot be allowed to spread. I will be the last.

[ she's oddly serious in the moment she speaks of her feelings about harrow, as if some unforgivable wound sits between them. he thinks unwillingly of damen, a surge of hatred and grief and regret clogging his chest before he forces it away somewhere he doesn't have to feel it all so acutely. ]

What did she do to you to make you despise her so? [ without warning, he struggles to sit up, uncomfortable lying down so long in the presence of another person who isn't a slave. very mediocre success. ] Did she kill someone close to you?