Chapter 11 The Personal Taster

In the kitchen, the head chef was finishing a fresh tray. Leo stood right next to the counter, his eyes fixed on the bowl of hot chicken broth and the small plate of bread.

"You don't need to watch me like a hawk every single day, Leo," the chef said, sighing as he wiped his hands on a cloth. "I have cooked for the Duke's family for ten years. I would never put anything bad in her food."

"I know," Leo said, his voice flat and serious. "But the estate is dangerous right now. I have to see it with my own eyes."

The chef shook his head but didn't argue. He handed the silver tray to Leo. "Take it up then before it gets cold. She hasn't eaten anything since yesterday."

Leo took the tray, making sure his grip was steady. He walked back up the stairs, his mind counting the lives left. Four. Only four chances remained before everything turned to dust. He couldn't afford a single mistake.

When he reached her quarters, he gave a quiet, polite knock. There was no answer, so he pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.

The room was dim. Bella had refused to light the candles, so the only illumination came from the dying light outside the window. She sat at the small table near her bed, her shoulders tense and her hands tucked into her lap. Her silver hair was tied back loosely, and she kept staring at the dark corners of the room as if someone were hiding in the shadows.

Leo walked over quietly and set the tray down right in front of her. The warm steam from the soup rose into the cool air.

Bella looked down at the food. Her stomach let out a faint, hungry growl, but she didn't pick up her spoon. She looked up at Leo instead, her green eyes full of deep suspicion and fear. "Did you see who cooked this?"

"I watched the chef prepare it myself," Leo said, keeping his voice as calm and soft as possible. "Nobody else touched the bowl."

Bella reached out a trembling hand, her fingers hovering over the silver spoon. She stopped, her breathing catching in her throat as she shook her head. "No. No, I can't. What if someone slipped something into the spice jar? What if the kitchen boy was paid to slide a drop of poison into the meat?"

Leo felt a sharp pang of pity looking at her. Loop 5 was still fresh in his own mind—the memory of her choking on poisoned wine, her face turning purple while she gasped for air in his arms. He couldn't let that happen again. There were only four lives left. He had to be absolutely sure.

Before Bella could touch the spoon, Leo reached down, took the silver utensil from her fingers, and dipped it straight into the hot broth.

Bella froze, her eyes widening in shock. "What do you think you are doing?"

Leo lifted the spoon to his mouth and swallowed the warm soup. He chewed a small piece of the chicken, swallowed it, and then tore a piece of the bread from her plate, eating that too. He stood there for a few seconds, waiting to see if his chest would burn or if his stomach would twist. Nothing happened. The food was clean.

He held the spoon back out to her. "It is safe, Lady Bella. You can eat now."

Instead of taking the spoon, Bella slapped his hand away with a loud smack. The spoon clattered against the tray, splashing a few drops of soup onto the cloth. She stood up from her chair so fast it scraped loudly against the floor.

"How dare you!" Bella shrieked, her face turning red with absolute rage and humiliation. "Are you mocking me, Leo? Is this a joke to you?"

"I am checking the food for poison," Leo said, his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his temper under control. "I am trying to keep you alive."

"You are trying to humiliate me!" she screamed, her voice cracking with raw, painful emotion. Tears of anger rushed to her eyes, spilling down her pale cheeks. "You think I am a crazy, paranoid fool! You stand there eating off my plate to show me how pathetic I am! You want me to see that I am completely dependent on a low-born guard just to swallow a bite of food!"

"That is not what I am doing," Leo pressed, stepping closer, his own chest tightening with frustration. "You are starving yourself, Bella. You haven't eaten a full meal in three days because you think everything is a trap. If I have to eat every single bite first to prove it's safe, I will do it."

"I don't want your proof!" she yelled, slamming her hands down on the table, making the silver tray rattle. "You are using my fear to control me! First you lock me in this room, then you banish my servants, and now I have to watch you eat my food before I am allowed to touch it! You aren't protecting me, Leo! You are turning me into your prisoner!"

Leo stared at her, the sheer weight of his secret burning like fire in his throat. He wanted so badly to shake her by the shoulders and tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her that he had watched her die in agony, that her brain was literally breaking with every reset, and that he was tearing his own soul apart just to keep her heart beating. But he had to carry the heavy silence alone.

"If I wanted to control you, I wouldn't be standing here taking your insults every single day," Leo said, his deep voice dropping into a low, raw whisper that filled the quiet room. He looked directly into her wild, tear-filled green eyes, his face completely serious. "I don't care if you think I am a monster or a thief. I don't care if you hate the sight of my face. But you are going to sit down, and you are going to eat that food, because I am not letting you die."

Bella choked on a sob, her breath hitching as she stared back at him. She looked for any sign of mockery in his face, but she only found a deep, exhausted desperation that matched her own. The sheer force of his words seemed to take the air out of her chest. She had never seen him look so intense, so fierce.

Slowly, her hands stopped shaking. She sank back down into her chair, looking completely small and defeated against the high backrest. She picked up the fallen spoon with a weak, trembling grip.

"I hate you," she whispered, her voice tiny, cracking with a deep, miserable loneliness as she stared down at the bowl. "I hate you so much, Leo."

"I know," Leo said quietly, stepping back into the shadows near the door, his heart aching with a mixture of relief and sorrow. "Eat your soup, my lady."