Chapter 5

Eileen's POV

When I returned to the cave, he was exactly where I'd left him, still propped against the stone wall. His eyes were closed, but they snapped open the moment I pushed through the vines, tracking my movement with that unnerving precision.

I set down my bundle and knelt beside him, pulling out the healing potions and bandages. "I told you I'd come back."

He watched me in silence as I uncorked one of the golden vials. The liquid inside shimmered in the dim light, and I could feel the magic radiating from it—warm and potent, yet completely wrong for what I needed it to do.

"This is a high-grade healing potion," I explained, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "It should help with the wound."

I carefully poured the liquid over the gash on his chest.

The black mist of corruption reacted violently to the healing potion. He clenched his jaw, the only sign of pain he allowed himself, as the dark mist diminished considerably.

Until the potion was completely used up, the black mist finally dissipated.

I pulled out the bandages from my bag. "I need to wrap this. The wound is still open."

He didn't protest, just watched me with those unsettling silver eyes as I leaned closer. My hands trembled slightly as I unwound the bandages. This close, I could see the unnatural perfection of his features—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his silver-white hair fell across his forehead, still damp with sweat.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, carefully positioning the bandage against his chest. His skin was cool to the touch, cooler than it should be for someone still living. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

"Lift your arms a bit," I said quietly.

He complied without a word, raising his arms just enough for me to pass the bandage around his torso. I had to lean in even closer, my face mere inches from his chest as I worked. I could feel his breath—shallow and measured—stirring my hair.

My fingers worked quickly, wrapping the bandage with the practiced efficiency I'd learned as a maid. But this felt different. More intimate. More dangerous.

When I tied off the final knot, I pulled back quickly, putting distance between us. "There. That should hold."

He looked down at the bandages, then back at me, and for a moment I thought I saw something flicker in his expression. Curiosity, perhaps. Or confusion.

I pulled out the food I'd brought—the bread and dried meat—and set it in front of him. "At least eat something. Your body needs fuel to heal."

He stared at the food like he'd never seen it before. "I don't need—"

"Yes, you do." I tore off a piece of bread and held it out to him. "Unless you're planning to starve yourself before your wound heals?"

For a long moment, he didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached out and took the bread from my hand.

He brought the bread to his nose first, inhaling the simple, earthy scent. Something shifted in his expression—surprise, maybe, or recognition of something he couldn't quite place. Then he took a small bite.

I watched him chew slowly, mechanically, like he was learning how to do it for the first time. The sight should have been alarming. Instead, it was almost... endearing. Like watching something primal trying to figure out the most basic sensory experience.

Is he really a dragon?

He took another bite, then another, until the bread was gone. I handed him the dried meat next, and he ate that too, his movements becoming slightly less awkward with each piece.

When he finished, I pulled out the woolen blanket and draped it over his shoulders. "You need to stay warm. The cave gets cold at night."

He looked at the blanket, then at me, confusion clear in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

It was the same question he'd asked before, but this time there was something different in his tone. Not suspicion, exactly, but genuine bewilderment, like the concept of someone helping him was completely foreign.

"Because you need help," I answered with the same words as before. "And I happened to find you."

It was half-true, at least. The other half—the part about manipulation and self-preservation and desperate, calculated risk—I kept locked away behind Vespera's practiced mask of indifference.

He studied me for a long moment, but aside from furrowed brows, there was no other expression. Finally, he spoke.

"Thank you," he said.

I felt something crack inside my chest.

What am I doing? The thought hit me like a physical blow. I'm lying to him. Manipulating him. Using his amnesia and his weakness to bind him to me.

But I couldn't stop now. I'd already made my choice back in that moment when I decided to hide the Dragonheart. There was no going back.

"You're welcome," I said softly, and hated myself a little more.

"Do you remember anything else?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

He looked at me, silent for a moment. Something flickered in those silver eyes—a struggle, as if he were trying to grasp something that was slipping away.

"Cassius Draco," he finally said, his voice low and certain.

I waited, expecting him to continue. But he just looked at me, saying nothing more.

"Cassius Draco... is that your name?" I asked tentatively.

He nodded, but his brow furrowed even deeper. "Everything else... I don't remember."

That lost expression made my chest tighten.

The silence that followed was heavy, weighted with all the things I couldn't say. Finally, I stood up, brushing dirt from my dress.

"I need to go back." I pulled the pain suppressant from my pocket and set it beside him. "If the wound hurts, drink this."

He nodded, his eyes already starting to droop with exhaustion. The food and brief conversation seemed to have drained what little energy he had left.

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me one more time.

"Will you come back?"

I looked over my shoulder at him, this beautiful, broken boy who didn't know who he was. Didn't know I was the one who'd stolen the Dragonheart.

"Yes," I said, and meant it. "I'll come tomorrow. Try to rest."

He nodded once more, then let his eyes close fully. Within moments, his breathing had evened out into the shallow rhythm of sleep.

I stood there for a moment longer, watching him in the dim light. Then I pulled my cloak tighter around myself and stepped out into the descending night.