I ignored Draven entirely, deliberately leaning closer to Zenon to apply the herbal salve. "Don't listen to him, Zenon. Tell me more. What about the court life there?"
As I worked, I made sure to laugh at his lighthearted stories, giggling softly at a joke he made about a clumsy court minister. Every time I laughed, I could hear a low, dangerous growl vibrating in Draven's throat. The green mist of his jealousy was practically suffocating now, but he maintained his casual, arrogant posture, refusing to admit he was being pushed to the brink.
Once the bandage was securely tied around Zenon's torso, I stood up and walked over to the iron pot. I dished a generous, steaming portion of the squirrel and carrot soup into a clean bowl. Walking back, I didn't just hand it to him. I sat right next to him, took the wooden spoon, scooped up a bit of the broth, and gently blew on it to cool it down.
