At some point, Wilthon started casually placing food onto my plate himself. More fruit. More eggs. Another croissant.
“You’re feeding me like I’m preparing for hibernation,” I complained softly.
“You barely eat properly.”
“You sound like you’ve been monitoring my meals.”
“I have.”
I nearly choked on my juice. “You what?”
“You forget,” he replied smoothly while cutting into his food. “You are my responsibility now.”
“That sounds mildly terrifying.”
“It should.”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him while he remained completely composed.
Honestly, talking to Wilthon sometimes felt like trying to argue with someone who already knew all my next moves.
After another few moments of silence, I finally looked at him properly.
“Why are you doing this?”
Wilthon glanced up. “This?”
“Al
