Luo Binghe exhales, uncomfortably empathetic. It's not that he's feared being a burden—if anyone finds him to be too much, that is their problem to resolve—but he has certainly made himself difficult to love. It is a hard thing to change. He has more to say on that subject, but hearing about Sagramore's illness diverts his attention. A good handful of Luo Binghe's wives have had some kind of lifelong condition, whether a physical ailment or a curse, and Luo Binghe has attended to all of them. He and Sagramore have already slept together—and that method only really works for poisons anyway. But...

"It's possible I could help," he says carefully, unsure how much Claudius might have told Sagramore. "With the illness, not knowing how to be easily loved—I am equally unskilled in that matter. Demon blood has strange properties when ingested."