Page 18 of Daman
“Yeah. I guess.”
“And you can’t deny that the dude looked sexy tonight. That blue shirt really made his eyes pop.”
My stomach fluttered. “Whatever. I didn’t notice.”
“Liar. You know, I’m kinda shocked. I thought you’d be sleeping with your prince tonight.”
“Don’t make me smother you.”
“What? I’m just being honest. Warrin’s a total gentleman. Definitely not like most guys. Anyone else would have you flat on your back right now, nut sac slapping your ass as they pounded you into the mattress.”
“Not everyone is like you.”
“Such a shame, right?” He winked.
Once Bellamy finally went back to his own room, I slipped beneath the thick blanket and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. Branches creaked outside the window as the wind swept through the trees. It sounded cold, and I shivered involuntarily.
A memory stirred in the back of my mind.
Lycus pressed his small body close to my side, his face on my chest. He whimpered as the wind crashed against the side of our home, the wailing of it reminiscent of a pack of wolves howling at the moon.
“Do not fear the wolves,” I had told him. “They howl to ward off our enemies. Close your eyes and sleep.”
“B-But I’m so c-cold.”
I had wrapped my arms tighter around him and given him more of the blanket. We had woken the next morning to a blanket of snow. Lycus’ fear from the previous night had vanished as he’d run through the field of white, his cheeks pink and his smile wide. He’d been sickly for so long, but I’d never forget the joy on his face as he played in the snow, eyes bright and full of life. For that one moment, he’d been happy.
With the fading of the memory, I shut my eyes, trying to ignore the emptiness in my chest.
I slept like shit. Probably karma for being such a bitch to Warrin. I woke to an overcast sky beyond the window and light flurries falling from the clouds. I had just sat up when there was a knock on the door.
“What?” I called out, annoyed. I needed silence and a strong cup of coffee in the morning before I could deal with people.
“Um. It’s Armen. You met me last night.”
The serving boy.
“Yeah. I remember. What do you want?”
“I’ve brought you some fresh towels if you want to take a bath,” he said, his voice timid. Now I felt bad for snapping at him.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Armen entered the room with a stack of towels, keeping his gaze on the floor. He wore a gray hat over his strawberry blond hair, and he walked with a heavy limp.
“Breakfast will be served downstairs in one hour,” he said after placing the towels in the connecting bathroom and coming to stand in front of me, hands behind his back and eyes downcast. “Is there anything I can get you before I take my leave?”
“Are you Warrin’s servant?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like working for him?”
Armen smiled a little. “Yes. Very much so. He’s kind to me.”
His answer surprised me. Warrin was like a block of ice. Cold. Emotionless. Even when he spoke, his voice lacked warmth or expression. It was hard to imagine him being kind to anyone.
“If there is nothing more you need, I must be on my way,” Armen said, bowing his head before leaving.
