.
.: Chapter VI :.
Damian Archer
"From The Demon's Eyes" pt. 1
. . .
A single flame floated across the bleak blackness of the hall, it's light casting his flickering silhouette in it's wake. His focus went beyond what the light could reach for he possessed a vision that could stretch miles into the darkness. This ability rendered the candle in his hand rather useless, but it wasn't for him. The candle was for her.
Damian had no need to knock, his presence was always welcomed whether he was expected or not. It was habit highly frowned upon by the other servants, especially her brother, but Damian felt he had every right to see her when he pleased. Yet at the same time he also felt undeserving of such a privilege. Every now and then, whenever silence seeped into their company, Damian would start hearing faint crying, but as his ears accustomed to the noise, it was more of a very sad humming. When he would look at Riliane at those times, he'd realize that it wasn't exactly her making these sounds. It was her soul.
After slipping the key through the lock to glide the door open, he found her sitting in bed, poised against her pillow with a waiting look on her face.
"I'm sorry for the late intrusion-"
"It is hardly ever an intrusion, silly." She interrupted, offering him a smile that set off a grin of his own. Cold in the presence of others, but when she reached the comfort of privacy with him or Wynn she was sweet and endearing. He approached to set the candle on her bedside table, bringing relief to her features. He sprawled himself comfortably on a chair before studying her again and frowned. It was faint, but she was shaking and he knew it wasn't because of the cold.
Tonight was one of the nights where the morbidness of her soul seeped into her dreams, marring them into nightmares too grim to comprehend. He knew, because she confided in him almost everything. He'd listen intently every night as the layers of her facade began to strip away. Night was a time where she felt it safe to be honest, where she felt it safe to be vulnerable. And so she would ramble on to Damian things she could not—or did not—want to tell her brother. Most of these things involved scenes from her nightmares that put murderers and massacres to shame, but only a handful of these images would ever make sense to Riliane as memories. The other lot of garish visions would only make sense to Damian, although he never voiced this.
It was quiet for a few moments before Damian decided he would try to end her night on a positive note, since that crude gentleman from Midford's soiree did nothing to help the ill mood she was already in.
"I'm sorry for being late then. Your brother would not stop babbling about his recent plans. Damn, that boy talks more than ladies gossip!" He brought his feet up onto the edge of the bed as he gratefully took the small leather volume that Riliane held out for him.
"Best keep your voice down, he's also a bit sensitive."
"He tires even me out. A rowdy soul, he is."
There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, and Damian dared to look up at her only to choke on his guilt.
"Are you really going to take his soul?"
The thought of simply killing Wynn and taking Riliane with him often crossed his mind in the beginning, but he remembered the consequences of similar mistakes. Besides, it was never Wynn's soul that he was after.
"No, not if you don't wish me to."
"Wynn sealed a contract with you, Damian. And a contract with someone like you has no loopholes. A deal has been made, and that can't be helped."
Damian never planned on making a deal with Wynn. True, he had intended to get rid of him and anyone else who hindered his path to Riliane, but Damian decided to be charitable that one bloody day. He gave Wynn the time to mourn his family before serving the boy his own fate. But as Damian watched him clutch Riliane's unconscious, bruised, and bloodied body there was something...If the weight of his past hadn't stopped him, then the rage filling that boy's eyes did. It was an anger that burned as hot as hellfire. Wynn had the eyes of a man who wanted blood and the second they met gazes, a small part of Damian pitied him.
If it weren't for the demands that Wynn made, Damian would have never formed that contract. But they both had a common interest: Riliane. They both badly wanted to destroy everyone that broke her.
He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Now that he thought about it, Damian would have been able to carry that out regardless. He looked at Riliane again and stumbled over his thoughts. She was on the verge of tears.
He tried to think of a way to fix the moment, but whatever poured out of his mouth was about as helpful as vomit. "I wouldn't have ever made that contract if-"
"I know. Wynn can be extremely stubborn and persistent."
Their deal was be one of the few he regretted, along with the contract he once had with Raeleigh. But that was a story he would be keeping to himself.
Damian brought a finger to his lips to quiet her. "I will do my best to prolong the deal."
There was no doubt Riliane trusted him. He couldn't jeopardize that.
"So what of your nightmares tonight?"
"I haven't gone to sleep yet. It's cloudy, and it's making everything awfully dark..."
A knowing smile warmed his features. "Well I'm here now. Get your rest, it'll be a hectic day tomorrow."
"Don't leave until the crack of dawn."
"Yes, Princess."
As promised, Damian stayed and watched over her the entirety of the night, glancing up from turning pages whenever Riliane stirred or whimpered in her sleep. There were times in the night where he read the calmest parts of his novel aloud so she would ease into his mellow voice. He found himself gazing happily at her whenever she reached some peace in her sleep. A content smile reached his features as he sighed. What a blessed moment this was for someone as damned as he. It was a gift for him to be able to watch over her like a guardian every night, he loved the feeling of being needed by her, to be able to nurture and spoil her like a child.
It wasn't long before his mind began to ponder when and how all of it will end, but he closed his book in protest to himself.
He wasn't going to lose her.
The sun was starting to rise. It was hard to tell through the thick grayness that took the sky by night, making the break of dawn barely noticeable. Quietly, he slipped out of her room to wake the other servants.
Within an hour he had the maids scurrying about the first floor polishing and dusting everything in sight. Riliane's business associates would not be due until late afternoon, but it would be best to get as much done before either she or Wynn woke. Damian looked out the front window toward the horizon. There was not a speck of blue in the sky, and that means the weather would most likely turn grim. He'd have to ask the maids to prepare a few of the spare bedrooms. It wouldn't be like Wynn or Riliane to send guests away into a violent storm.
After a few hours he decided it was time for the chef to begin planning and prepping ingredients for a small feast later that day. He asked the kitchen aid to prepare Riliane and Wynn's breakfast, which he brought to them in the study.
"Breakfast!" He pushed the doors apart with the cart, interrupting Wynn's pacing about as he inspected the newest models that needed his approval. As the current Earl Kingsley, he was the proud head of the prestigious Everlark Industries, a leading business in trading goods almost worldwide and most renowned for their production in weaponry.
"Damian, what do you think of accents on this one?" Wynn held up a shining, silver rifle with a black handle and white accents. "Rilly thinks they make the whole thing tad too heavy to lug around."
"Don't you agree?" Riliane asked from behind her brother's desk as she fiddled with something in her hands.
"It depends on who target consumer is." He began to pour two of them their tea.
"Yes, I plan to mass produce these for the flashier nobles who fancy hunting." A cheeky grin curled at Wynn's lips. "I suppose I shouldn't have asked Rilly if the weight was a problem."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"You're not the best when it comes to physical strength and stamina, baby sister."
"Just because I can't handle a sword, does not mean I can't handle my guns!" Damian couldn't help but laugh quietly as she pouted, retreating her attention to the small revolver she's been turning over in her hands. "...and I am hardly a baby."
Wynn let out a rather loud laugh, barely managing a 'thank you' to Damian when he set the teacups onto the desk. "Yes, I almost forgot about the collection you keep in the back of your wardrobe. And under your bed. And the ones you tend to hide under your dress."
Riliane didn't respond for a while and both men silently chuckled at her brooding, until Wynn decided it was enough and cleared his throat to catch her attention.
"Why don't you hold onto that one, Rilly." He nodded to the weapon in her hands. "You haven't set it down since you pulled it out of the case."
She immediately brightened up at that and set the gun down to seize her cup. "Thank you, brother."
That pleasant moment was short-lived; as she brought the cup up to relish the scent, a heavy grimace displaced her freshly lit smile.
"Is this Earl Grey?"
Damian nearly face-palmed at her revelation as the less-than-pleasing happenings of last evening resurfaced. He silently cursed the kitchen aid for choosing that specific brew of tea.
'Unless...' He sent Wynn an accusing glance, only to receive a sheepish grin from the culprit himself. 'This is your doing.'
Wynn set the rapier he was holding down, just as Riliane did with her tea, and leaned forward to make more intimate conversation. "Speaking of Earl Grey, I heard you danced with him last night?"
"I did..." Riliane raised a brow and looked from Wynn to Damian. "Why...?"
"Did you enjoy each other's company?"
"The joy was rather one-sided."
"How so?"
"He was being a persistent oaf, and you still haven't answered my question."
Damian scratched the back of his head, and decided it was time for him to leave. That is, until Riliane caught the guilty look on his face a mile away.
"Stay."
'Damn.' Damian shamefully seated himself in one of the chairs in front of the desk, keeping his head down.
"What have you two been hiding from me?"
Wynn grinned awkwardly, and Damian could tell he was searching for a proper way to break the thickening ice. "...well...Charles is a friend of mine..."
"...and?"
"Well, you see, the other day he asked for your hand."
"Oh," Riliane sounded relieved, and even chuckled before taking a short sip of her tea. "Tell him I refuse then."
"That's just it, Riliane..." Damian threw him a condescending glare that strongly advised against his next words, but Wynn paid no heed. "You're not in the position to refuse."
"What?"
"Leaving you without a strong man at your side is as good as throwing your safety to the wind."
"You doubt that I can outsmart danger?"
"It's not your wits I doubt, it's the danger. I doubt that it will ever stop coming after you. Once your name gets around as the second watchdog, it'll attract enemies like a corpse does to flies."
"I'm sure that you and Damian are all that I nee-"
"Riliane," Wynn spoke sharply and moved a hand to tilt his sister's chin so he could look at her straightly. "I made a promise that I would do everything to ensure that you are well taken care of and happy. That includes making sure you're protected, even after I'm gone."
Silence. Yet he continued regardless of a reply.
"Charles is a close quarter servant to the queen, an earl, and is undoubtedly the best swordsman I've ever met. If his rank can't intimidate your enemies, then his fighting experience will take care of the rest."
More silence. When Wynn looked at her again, she was glaring at her tea as if the cup would shatter at her scrutiny.
"Quit your pouting, Rilly. Charles is a gentleman."
Damian scoffed a bit too loudly at the statement, putting a halt to the conversation when Wynn scowled at him before returning his attention to Riliane.
He poked her in the shoulder and attempted a smile, "You have no problem when Damian and I get close to you. Why is it an issue with anyone else?"
When he was met with another refusal to look his way, Wynn gave up trying to get through to her. He sighed every so often to fill the stillness of the room and occasionally glanced at Riliane, who continued her silent temper tantrum, as he went about the rest of his business. It was about half an hour of Riliane's disturbingly quiet, unmoving form until Wynn finally spoke up before he went nuts. "I'll talk to Charles again."
At that, she broke into a satisfied grin and reached over to happily drink her tea, but not before casting a glance at Damian that told him he was not out of trouble just yet.