When the food arrived, Ilkar quickly took it from the maids, making sure to shield her vulnerable state from their eyes.
He carried the tray himself, his face set in a firm but weary expression.
Once the maids had left, he placed the small table on the bed, setting the assortment of food before her with a careful, deliberate touch.
"I would never starve you, Eira," he said, his voice softer than before.
He sat in front of her, his gaze shifting between the array of dishes and her tear-streaked face.
The change in his demeanor was jarring—an unsettling tenderness that contrasted sharply with his previous harshness.
He glanced at the food, then back at her. "I... didn't eat either," he admitted quietly.
Eiravyne's eyes widened in surprise at his admission. The shift in his demeanor was overwhelming, a stark departure from the commanding figure he had been.
