He had not rested properly. His body was still tired. His arm was wrapped where Isabella had bitten him, and his face still had a slight paleness to it. But the moment it came to caring for Isabella, he looked like he had forgotten how to be weak.
Zyran, on the other hand, looked shamelessly happy.
He had survived the night. Isabella had survived. The children had survived. The attack had ended. The whole world could be bleeding outside, and this man could still sit there looking at Isabella as if the morning had personally been made for him.
Isabella swallowed and said, "If you two are going to fight over the spoon, at least make sure the food keeps coming."
Zyran smiled. "See? She supports me."
Cyrus looked at him. "She supports eating."
"That is close enough."
