He chuckled softly, though it turned into a cough that made me instantly regret teasing him. I reached for the cup of water on the table and handed it to him without a word.
He took it, his fingers brushing against mine briefly, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight, and busied myself with adjusting the blanket over him. It was a pointless task—he wasn’t cold, and the blanket wasn’t out of place—but it gave me something to do, something to focus on other than the weight of his gaze.
“You’ll need to eat more than broth soon,” I said after a moment, forcing my tone to stay brisk. “I’ll see if I can get something from the kitchen later.”
He sank back against the pillow, sighing as though the effort of conversation had worn him out. “You don’t need to keep doing this,” he murmured. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re alive because I’ve been shoving broth and water into you for the past seven days, and I’m not about to let all that work go to waste.” His lips curved into a faint smile.
“You’re relentless.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied dryly, though my heart skipped at the warmth in his voice. I turned toward the door, ready to leave before I let myself linger too long, but his voice stopped me.
“Livia.”
I glanced back, one hand resting on the doorframe.
“What?”
He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as though he were debating whether to speak.
“Why are you doing this?”
The question caught me off guard, though I should have seen it coming.
“Because someone had to,” I said simply, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. He didn’t look convinced.
“You’ve hardly left this room all week. Don’t tell me it’s because you felt obligated. You don’t owe me anything.”
I hesitated, glancing down at the floor.
“Maybe I don’t,” I said softly. “But I wasn’t going to let you die, either.”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, I thought he might press the issue further. Instead, he shifted slightly, wincing as he adjusted his position.
“What about before?” he asked suddenly. “Before theludus. Where were you from?”
I blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation.
“Why do you want to know?”
He shrugged, though the motion was awkward and stiff.
“You spent a week keeping me alive. The least I can do is get to know the person who saved my sorry hide.”
I smiled faintly, though the memories his question stirred weren’t pleasant ones.
“A village,” I said after a moment. “A few hours’ ride from here. It feels like another life.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful.
“You told me your parents and brother were killed.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice quieter now. “There was a raid. I was just a child.”
