Chapter 65: A Bite Too Many

"OH MWY GWOD... THWIS FWOHD ID SWOW GWUD!"

Cherion looked less like a person eating and more like a man was waging war on the plate. Cheeks ballooned to impossible proportions, and a smear of sauce clung to his face like it had always belonged there, a tiny flag of triumph.

Zarius was sitting at the other end of the table. He wasn’t eating. He hadn’t touched the fine silverware or the glass at his elbow. He was just... watching. The Duke’s eyes were fixed on Cherion with an intensity that, under any other circumstance, would have been deeply unnerving, but Cherion was far too occupied with a particularly succulent drumstick to care about being stared at.

Cherion finally swallowed, wheezing like he’d just sprinted a marathon. That’s when he noticed Zarius at the other end of the table, looking like someone had forgotten to plug him in. Stiff posture, pale face, and eyes that basically screamed:

"Why am I here?"

Suddenly self-conscious, Cherion realized he looked about as "noble" as a back-alley brawler. He instinctively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, old habits from a different life dying hard, before catching himself and frantically switching to a pristine linen napkin.

"Don’t be shy, Your Grace," Cherion managed, waving a half-eaten skewer toward the Duke’s untouched plate. "Eat, eat! It’s better when it’s hot. You’re acting like a guest in your own house."

Zarius’s mouth thinned into a line that might have been a smirk in a kinder world. "I believe I’ve reached my caloric limit simply by witnessing your gluttony," he remarked, his voice like gravel being ground under a boot. "But thank you. It is, indeed, my home, though I appreciate the permission to dine in it."

"Hey, I slept for three days. You said it yourself. Seventy-two hours without so much as a biscuit? I’m entitled to a little enthusiasm."

The bafflement hit Cherion all over again. Three days. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes for a second after the blinding gold light in the forest, and now, suddenly, the calendar had flipped. And of course, the universe decided to make things extra confusing where he’d just experienced the original Cherion’s memory. Helpful? Not really. Just a tiny clue that the original Cherion and Zarius had maybe met before. Which was basically like being teased by the universe with a tiny, cruel smirk.

"Ugh, better not happen again," Cherion muttered, stabbing a roasted potato with more force than necessary.

Cherion shoved another bite of venison into his mouth, chewing with a certain ferocity. His eyes flickered toward Zarius, who was still just... watching him like a disappointed parent at a fast-food drive-thru.

"Don’t eat like someone’s about to snatch all that food away," Zarius muttered, his voice as dry as gravel. "If you keep going like that, you’ll be choking on your own enthusiasm."

Cherion giggled, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. He made a show of slowly nibbling on a roasted potato, drawing it out with exaggerated care, all while keeping an eye on Zarius.

Cherion’s smile faltered when he saw Zarius’s face, as pale as if he’d just walked through a haunted house. He then set the skewer down. "Your Grace," Cherion called, his voice losing its playful edge. "Are you fine?"

The Duke didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at the table.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... It’s been three days since the forest," Cherion pressed, leaning forward. He was still clutching a napkin, but his doctor’s instincts were flaring up. "Three days without me giving you any healing energy. And you were stabbed. With a poisoned blade, remember? Not exactly a papercut."

He leaned in, almost as if he thought leaning harder would teleport him across the table, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to pull back Zarius’s collar right then and there. "Is the curse acting up? Is the wound stinging?"

He just gave a short, stiff shake of his head. "I’m fine, Cherion. My curse didn’t act up. And like I told you before, the energy you released in the woods healed everything, including your own."

Cherion blinked. He wanted to believe him. He really did. But his brain was doing the full panic spiral anyway. Maybe it was fine. Zarius looked fine. He could probably even eat with him. So yeah... probably telling the truth. But still... better safe than sorry.

"Are you sure?" Cherion started, his brow furrowing. "Because if your..."

He was cut off by the heavy groan of the dining hall doors. They creaked open just enough to let a sliver of the hallway’s chill inside. Flio stepped through, gave a polite bow to Cherion and Zarius, then leaned over to whisper something in the Duke’s ear.

Cherion, who usually tried not to stick his nose in other people’s business, but let’s be real, curiosity won this round, leaned in so far he almost face-planted into his venison stew. He squinted, held his breath, and... yeah, the echoey hall made eavesdropping impossible. So, he gave up. With dignity? Not even close.

So Cherion grabbed a slice of blueberry cake and tried to bury his curiosity in it. It was probably just a boring work conversation, it didn’t concern him, right? He took a bite... and then another... and couldn’t stop sneaking glances at them anyway. Dessert didn’t fix his curiousity.

Zarius didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look surprised. He simply nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement, and dismissed Flio with a cold wave of his hand.

The guy disappeared just as fast as he showed up, the doors slamming shut like he’d never been there.

The vibe in the hall flipped instantly. The warm, "I just ate my weight in food" buzz gone, replaced by a weird, heavy focus that made the back of Cherion’s neck prick up.

"Once you’ve finished," Zarius said, his gaze lingering on the smear of icing Cherion had missed on his cheek, "there is someone I need you to meet."

Cherion froze. The glass of water he’d been lifting stayed suspended halfway to his lips, the liquid trembling slightly.

Who?

His mind began to spiral through a list of terrible possibilities.

Good guy or bad guy?