"Why did you let him go?" the dwarf demanded finally. "After what they did? After what they tried to do?"
Apollo sank to his knees, suddenly lightheaded as the gold in his veins retreated from the wound in his side. "Because he's not our enemy," he said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. "Not our real enemy."
"Could have fooled me," Nik said weakly from where he sat, clutching his injured arm. Blood seeped between his fingers despite his pressure on the wound.
Cale knelt beside Nik, examining the cut with a soldier's practiced eye. "It's deep, but clean. We need to bind it before you lose more blood."
Mira tore strips from her already ragged cloak, her face pale with concern as she worked to bandage Nik's arm. "The bleeding won't stop," she said, her voice tight with worry. "It's not clotting properly."
