“Ooh,” moaned Steven, bringing a cautious hand to his swollen lip. Trying to focus in the pale glow of the distant kitchen light, he looked to see if the lip was still bleeding. Softly, he felt the bump on his nose. “Damn,” he said. Angelica scurried back on her heels, carrying a cloth wrapped around several ice cubes.
Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malnov