Stinging, yes, but despite all his promises to himself to do otherwise, Samandriel couldn't shed his pride enough to do anything but take it in stubborn silence.
He knelt and looked up at Carrick, brow arched as he awaited orders. His skin stung a little, but he'd had worse in this body. He could ignore it. If he could ignore the wounds on his back and neck as they healed roughly, he could do this too.