Damien exhaled slowly, running a hand down the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. The dull ache was there, a deep pressure just beneath his skin, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Pain had long since become just another part of his routine—another part of his evolution.
With a quiet grunt, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself upright.
Immediately, Elysia moved.
"Young Master?"
He barely spared her a glance, rolling his shoulders as he tested his body's limits. "What?" His voice was calm, almost amused. "Expected me to stay here?"
She didn't respond.
Not immediately, at least.
Her sharp green eyes flickered across his form, assessing—calculating. And in that brief silence, Damien saw it.
Doubt.
It wasn't visible to most. She didn't frown, didn't shift her posture, didn't say anything outright. But Damien had grown accustomed to reading her small expressions. The faint crease in her brow. The almost imperceptible tension in her stance.
