Flashback ( PDFDrive )

At least he looked peaceful.
His eyes were closed. Features relaxed. But his skin looked clammy
and pale. And his whole torso was wrapped in thick silver bandages.
His arms were peppered with dark purple bruises. And his left leg was
propped up on a mountain of pillows and cocooned in more silver
bandages from the middle of his thigh to the tips of his toes.
“I never should’ve let you go after him alone, Sophie,” Alden
murmured, brushing the hair off Fitz’s forehead.
“She wasn’t alone,” Sandor growled from the doorway.
He stomped into the room, and Sophie couldn’t help wincing when
she saw the dried blood still crusting his lips and cheeks. His usually
flat nose had swollen into a mound that reminded her of cauliflower,
and his chest and arms were scratched and bruised. But it was the
sorrow in his eyes that cracked her chest wide open.
“This wasn’t your fault—”
“Yes, it was, Miss Foster. You’re my charge. My responsibility—”
“But I’m the one who knocked you out with my inflicting,” she
argued. “I didn’t even think to use the throwing star I was holding—”
“It never should’ve fallen on you to protect us! I let them get close
enough to obscure our sight with their shadows. I failed to detect their
presence.”
“Grizel didn’t sense them either,” Grady reminded him gently.
“And despite what Ro kept claiming, there’s no guarantee that she
could’ve scented them any earlier.”
“She might have,” Sandor mumbled.
The fact that he would acknowledge even the slightest possibility
that an ogre could do anything superior to him worried Sophie way
more than the brownish red crusting his skin.