Elizabeth braced her hands on the table and looked at him steadily, her tone somewhere between authority and a tenderness she rarely let slip.
"Go quickly, Damon. She's waiting for you. And honestly, if I have to hear one more question about your whereabouts, I'll send her to the border myself."
Damon merely nodded, exhaling slowly. "As you wish, my lady."
Elizabeth turned back to the fire, ending the subject with the same gesture with which she commanded battles. Esther, still leaning against the wall, gave him a sideways glance and teased in a low voice, "Go on, hero. Better to face the girl than the Countess."
He responded with a grunt, adjusting his hood as he left the room. The corridor was silent, lit only by torches whose flames flickered in the cold draft coming from the windows. The sound of his boots echoed slowly, heavily—as if each step pulled him back to memories of Paraphal.
As he walked, a nagging question swirled in his mind.
