“No, I’m afraid not.” Ishawari responded, gently rubbing her back like he did with Prince Hotaru. “I must say, he’s quite the heavy sleeper.” 

His thoughts fell to her concerns about his safety as she recalled her vivid nightmare. 

“A house fire?” He relaxed his massage, feeling it might’ve overstayed its welcome and withdrew his hands back to his lap. “Surely not from your cooking. It’s not [i]that[/i] bad, ya know? Far better than what I could hope to drum up. Gods, they’d think it an assassination attempt, have me executed for trying to poison the child with my culinary arts.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. 

“Oh, to see the shame on my parent’s faces.” Ishawari muffled his cackling. “They’d really hate me then.”

He turned back to her with concerned eyes, perhaps unsheathing his own vulnerabilities in that moment when he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”