Something twisted in his chest. Something that had nothing to do with territorial instinct or asset maintenance.
She’s too thin. Too pale. Too fragile.
The thought shouldn’t have bothered him. Humans were fragile by nature. That was simply fact.
But watching her lie there, swallowed by furs meant for someone three times her size, made his beast pace with an agitation he couldn’t name.
A knock at the door announced the food’s arrival. He retrieved the tray himself, dismissing the servant before they could glimpse who waited in his chambers. Gossip spread fast enough without fuel.
“Elsa.” He settled onto the edge of the bed, the tray balanced on one palm. “You need to eat.”
Her eyes opened, unfocused. “Not hungry.”
“I don’t care.” He tore a piece of bread into smaller portions, selecting one that seemed appropriate for her mouth. “You’ve eaten nothing since before the retrieval. Your body can’t heal without sustenance.”
“I’ll eat later.”
“You’ll eat now.” He held the bread near her lips. “Or I’ll force it down your throat. Your choice.”
The glare she managed was impressive, given her condition. Fire flickered in those blue eyes—the same defiance that had intrigued him from the start. But she opened her mouth, accepting the bread.
Chewing seemed to take effort. Swallowing more so. But she managed, and Sylas selected another piece.
“I’m not a child.”
“No. You’re a human who nearly killed herself holding a Moon Tear core, then insisted on standing through an installation ceremony instead of resting.” Another piece of bread, pressed to her lips. “Eat.”
She ate. Slowly. Reluctantly. But she ate. Brave—or foolish—enough to glare at him while she did so.
The broth came next—warm and simple, seasoned with herbs that even human palates seemed to tolerate. Sylas lifted the bowl to her lips since her hands trembled too much to hold it steady.
“This is humiliating.”
“This is survival.” He tilted the bowl slightly, letting the liquid flow at a pace she could manage. “You want to be useful? Then you need to live long enough tobeuseful. That means eating. Sleeping. Letting your body recover.”
She swallowed another mouthful, then turned her face away. “Enough.”
Not nearly enough. She’d barely consumed half of what he’d ordered. But pushing further would only make her stubborn, and she’d eaten more than he’d expected.
He set the tray aside.
“The bathing chamber has heated pools.” He stood, gesturing toward the archway. “The water will help your muscles recover. Ease the tension.”
“I can barely sit up. You expect me to bathe?”
“I expect you to let me help.”
The words hung between them. Elsa’s expression shifted—surprise giving way to understanding giving way to something that looked almost like panic.
“No.”
“It’s not a request.”
“I saidno.” She struggled upright, her arms shaking with the effort. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need—”
“You need more help than you’re willing to admit.” Sylas crossed to her side, crouching again to meet her eyes. “You’re exhausted. Weak. Recovering from neural damage that Yarx doesn’t fully understand. You can barely hold a conversation without swaying.” His voice dropped. “You’ve been wearing those same clothes since the storm-woods. You’re covered in sweat and dust and the residue of Moon Tear energy that your skin absorbed.”
Her jaw clenched. “Then give me privacy and I’ll manage.”