The air in the Draven mansion felt unusually still that afternoon. Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the tall windows, scattering golden dust across the room where I lay resting. My fever had finally subsided, but my body was still fragile—drained, as if the last few days had taken more from me than I'd realized.
Hugo sat in the armchair beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other, quietly reading a thick, worn book he had found in Kael's library. He wasn't the type to sit still for long, but since my fever started, he hadn't left my side.
"Are you planning to guard me forever?" I asked softly, my voice hoarse but teasing.
He lowered the book, meeting my eyes with that familiar half-smile. "Maybe. You're not exactly great at staying out of trouble, Lea."
I rolled my eyes weakly. "I got sick, Hugo, not ambushed by a monster."
"Same difference," he replied. "Both make me worry."
I chuckled, though my chest still felt a little heavy. "You worry too much."
