Why did I let out a relieved breath when he made appreciative noises and scooped up the bowl from my tray?
“I’ll not turn down your kindness, milady.” He unlocked the cell one-handed, then backed away to settle on a bench around the corner.
“Ooh, it’s still warm.” He sighed. “Just yell if ye need me, milady.”
I shouldn’t have felt relieved to have him out of the way, to haveprivacywith Kragorn…but I did. Cautious, I shuffled into the cell, my wary eyes not leaving the prisoner. Who looked…well, mayhap notstronger, but at least not quite at death’s door. I glanced at the metal tray on the floor, still where I’d left it. Had that bit of sunlight revived him at all?
“Good morrow,” I murmured, although I wasn’t sure why I bothered with niceties. I set my tray near the orc’s knees and forced myself to edge closer to him.
“I have brought you food.”
“I smell it,” he grunted quietly. “Why did ye send away the guard?”
Had he noticed that? I glanced at the stone corner, around which I knew the man was savoring the pottage I’d helped make this morning.
I was surprised to hear myself admit, “Because my father says he wants me to keep you alive, but he did not give me permission to heal you.”
The orc’s remaining brow rose. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or challenge. “And is that your intent, Lillian?”
I shivered at the sound of my name on his lips.
To distract myself from his dark gaze, I turned to my tray, squatting to reach my supplies. “I brought you yarrow tea to ease your pain.”
He still watched me. I turned to face him, cupping the tea in both my hands. He rose on his knees, lifting himself from his haunches. I hesitated, but realized his hungry gaze had dropped to the tea.
Of course. He must be thirsty.
This time when I held the cup to his lips, this new position allowed him to drink greedily without missing a drop.
“Ah, Malla the Beginner,” he murmured, dropping back to his haunches with a sigh. “I thought my throat was made from sand.”
Was that a joke? I flashed an uncertain peek up at him and found him watching me again.
“You are still fevered?” I blurted.
“Aye, delirious.” His tone was almost teasing. “I have imagined you in my cell many times these last hours, Lillian.”
My hands shook as I turned back to the tray. Why did his attention make me so uncomfortable?
Because you have never had such attention before.
“You were merely thirsty,” I told him as I poured him more yarrow tea. “This will bring down your fever and heal your insides.”
This time he didn’t drop my gaze as he drank and I found my own throat dry.
His skin might still bear the marks of my father’s men’s blades and cudgels, and fever might still battle in his chest…but there was something different about him today. Stronger.
Had yesterday’s weak broth and meager sunlight caused that?
Or had I?
I wished I could drink some of the tea to force myself to swallow. Instead, I scooped up the bowl I’d hidden beneath a cloth to keep it from the guard’s eyes. I did not want him to see I planned to feed the prisoner the same pottage I’d given him.
“Y-you will need to…” I forced myself to stop shaking. “Your strength. My father expects you to stand in front of his guests on Hogmanay, so you will need to get stronger.”
The orc made a show of flexing his arms…but the chains allowed him to move only a few inches. I nodded—satisfaction that he couldn’t hurt me? Or agreement?—and inched closer, my knuckles white around the handle of the spoon I gripped.
“I will feed you,” I whispered.
