“No.” A right turn and three more doors and he’d be at his room. He’d hold her hand for a couple of minutes and call it a night.
They finished the walk in silence. Damien tried to let go and reach for the door, but Karrie didn’t let him. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Damien had no intention of inviting her in. He barely had to force a yawn. “No, I’m beat.”
Karrie stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her tongue darting in his mouth for a moment before she stepped back. Damien stared at her, no idea what to say, no coherent thought in his head beyond wondering where she learned to kiss like that.
“I told you when we were little I would marry you one day and I meant it. I hate those arrogant, soft boys, with their fake compliments and eyes on Daddy’s throne. Daddy already thinks of you like a son, Mom likes you too, and I like you a lot. The only one that seems to have a problem with this is you. I have to marry in three years, and get betrothed in two. I have no interest in fending off smelly, grabby noble boys for two years. You’re a hero and you saved Daddy’s life today. No one would complain if he announced our engagement after all you’ve done.”
Damien did his best to process her speech, but it overwhelmed him. After the battle and what was happening under their feet right now, he didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with this right now. “Good night, Princess. Sleep well.”
He freed his hand and fled into his room, closing the door firmly behind him. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to get his heart rate down. He didn’t know what to feel, what to think. He didn’t love Karrie, but that kiss… The pounding in his ears didn’t fade until the click of her heels moved beyond his hearing. He sighed and stepped away from the door. What was he going to do?
Something sparkled on his desk, distracting him from the princess. He locked the door and crossed the dark room to his plain wooden table. Glowing words sat on the top. They read: She broke. My office. Dawn. So the archmage convinced the assassin to talk. He wondered for a moment what shape the woman was in then dismissed the thought as irrelevant. She had tried to kill Uncle Andy. She deserved what she got.
Chapter 4
Damien strode down the hall toward the archmage’s office. She’d chosen a place well away from noise and people. In fact, judging by the smell, he figured at some point in the past the small room had served as a storeroom for chamber pots. Damien hadn’t been brave enough to point that out.
He absently took a bite of the egg and cheese sandwich he’d begged from the kitchen, his mind elsewhere. Damien had come to an arrangement with the cook. In exchange for not stealing her rolls he could get a snack whenever he wanted. This suited Damien as he usually woke up early and hated waiting to eat. His master rose early as well and he hoped she’d enjoy the second sandwich that floated along beside him in a soul force bubble.
Damien fought off a yawn. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. The attack and torture had pumped him full of adrenaline. Add the princess’s proclamation that they were getting married, his preferences be damned, and it was a wonder he slept as much as he did. Surely the king could have found a better match for Karrie than him.
On the other hand, having seen some of the elder members of the nobility, maybe he couldn’t. Nevertheless Damien had no intention of marrying Karrie, he just had to find some way to make that clear to her and the king.
Right.
Damien wished he had time to make a quick trip to The Citadel to visit Lizzy and see what she thought about all this. The demon spirit understood relationships better than he did. Getting to be with her, even for a little while, would soothe his nerves as well. Heaven’s mercy, he wished they could spend more than an hour here or there together every few months.
Nothing marked the door as belonging to the archmage. It just looked like a plain oak door with an iron pull. It didn’t even have a lock. Not that it needed one. If she didn’t want anyone inside, a soul force barrier would keep people out better than any normal lock.
He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and stepped up to the door. Muffled voices, neither of them sounding happy, filtered out into the hall. Damien frowned. She must have had a meeting before him. He moved a few steps away and leaned against the wall. He didn’t want his master thinking he had been eavesdropping.
A minute later the door slammed open and a tall, fit young woman in her early twenties, with short brown hair stalked out, her face twisted in an angry scowl. She wore leather pants, knee-high boots, and a blue shirt that showed her figure to good effect. She stormed past Damien, glaring at him as she went. What had he done?
She turned a corner that led to the main gate. Damien shrugged. Whatever her problem, it had nothing to do with him. He pushed off the wall, walked over to the open door and poked his head in. The archmage sat in her chair behind a battered desk, head in her hands.
“Is this a bad time, Master?”
She looked up and offered a wan smile. “No. Is that for me?”
Her gaze locked on the sandwich floating beside him. Damien guided it over, transforming the bubble into a plate and landing it on her desk. “I thought you might be hungry.”
She took a giant bite out of the sandwich. “You were right.”
Less than a minute later the
