Reaching out, Shen Xiao gently adjusted the thin strap of her nightdress that had slipped from her shoulder to keep her warm but his fingers immediately paused.
There, just below the curve of her collarbone, was a scabbed-over cut, thin, deliberate, and already healing.
His brows furrowed.
Carefully, he pushed the silk fabric a little lower, revealing her shoulder and the upper edge of her arm and he could see more marks.
They were not fresh.
And not from today.
And not from the guards.
A quiet tension coiled in his chest as he slowly pulled the covers down further and unfastened the first few buttons of her nightdress. His hand stilled when he saw them.
There were dozens of faint cuts that were healing and leaving behind a light, thin scar.
His gaze narrowed further.
As he gently lowered the strap, more came into view, angry, narrow welts trailing along her upper arm and across her ribs. They were older, faded just enough to suggest they had been there for a week or so.
