Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair)
Chapter 241

Ryan did indeed wake up in the middle of the night. Although he had simed a few times earlier, he had only been half-conscious and had dowly closed his eyes again when he saw Carissa

Late at night, the room was brightly it. While Ryan was asleep, Carissa had used hot water to wash his face. Though his small fase was painfully thin, he still bore a striking resemblance to his father, then When Ryan woke up, he cried again but managed to stile at Carises through his tears. Due to how thin he was, his dimples were more pronounced

Carisse helped him bethe, immersing the boy in the tub and carefully mesting his hair, She gently applied olive oil to untangle the matted strands before rinsing them dean,

After his beth, Ryab was dressed in new clothes bought for a seven-year-old. The clothes were slightly oversized, but at least he looked neat and tidy. When the food was served from the kitchen, his eyes it up instinctively, he grabbed a piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth, then hurriedly ducked under the table

It was a reflexive action. After hiding for a moment, he cautiously sat back up in the chair, his eyes brimming with tears as he looked at his aunt.

Carisse tumed to the side to wipe away her own tears before turning back with a smile. "Eat slowly, I will keep you company

When Rafael tried to enter the room, Ryan immediately became wary and set down his utensils, Seeing how frightened of men the boy was, the prince took a step back

"You two enjoy your meal, I'll eat outside,"

"Thank you, Your Highness," Carissa stood and walked over to Rafael Her eyes were filled with sincerity and gratitude. "I'll never forget this kindness."

"There's no need for such formalities. We are about to get married. Stay with him. I've arranged for some writing materials to be brought later. I know Ryan started studying when he was three, so he knows how to read and write."

Carissa nodded, "Alright, I'll ask him about it after we finish eating."

Once Rafael left, the wariness in Ryan's eyes disappeared. He snuggled close to Carissa and began to eat ravenously,

Carissa looked at his thin face and body. Ryan seemed to have barely grown taller over the past two years. She could only imagine the suffering he had endured,

"Eat slowly, don't choke," she said gently.

Ryan slowed down his eating, but to Carissa, it looked like he was still devouring his food with desperation. The meal was finished in no time; he polished off several dishes and a whole loaf of bread. Afterward, Carissa cleared the table and set out the writing materials. She grasped his thin, fragile wrist.

"I remember you can read and write. Even if you haven't written in the past two years, you should still remember the things you learned. Could you tell me how you escaped and how you ended up in this state?" she asked, her tears falling slowly into the ink pot.

After giving her nephew a bath, Carissa had seen the extent of his injuries-large and small, old and new. His body was covered in wounds, to the point there was almost no unblemished flesh left. Also, his left leg was crippled. The physician had examined it and found that the bone had healed crookedly after being broken. To fix it properly, the bone would need to be rebroken and set again.

Ryan wiped his aunt's tears away with his thin, bony hands, then shook his head. He had a pitiable and heart-wrenching expression on his face. His eyes were deep-set, his cheeks sunken, and his body stick-thin. To Carissa, he seemed like a mere wisp of a person. It pained her greatly to see him like this.

If she had known Ryan was still alive, she would have searched for him across the land, to spare him from such suffering.

Once they settled down again, Ryan began to write. Perhaps due to not writing for a long time, in combination with poor nutrition and abuse, his fingers were somewhat deformed. Seeing him struggle to hold the quill firmly, Carissa held his hand to steady it.

After a long while, Ryan slowly started to write, each stroke a tremendous effort. Writing was a laborious task for him, as he lacked strength.

After what seemed like an age, he managed to write a simple sentence: [Went out to buy candied apples.]