Dexton meant what he said. After only a few spoonfuls of porridge brought by the maid, a nurse came in and started cleaning my wounds before applying medicine, bandaging, and ensuring I was comfortable despite my injuries.
Dexton wasn't as talkative as the Dexton I knew—arrogant, rambling, and bragging, especially in front of the she-wolves, and showing off. The Dexton before me was very different now. His attention was only on me, watching the nurse until she was finished, then seemingly trying to find something to talk about that I didn't need to respond to.
"How is Gerald? Are you no longer in contact with him?" Dexton asked, which made me glance sarcastically at him. "I'm just asking. No need to be so sarcastic, Shenna."
