“Are you dabbling in… politics?” Archie asked, stunned.
“It is fun to manipulate humans,”Damaris said, his lip turning upwards in a sneer.
“And a stipend? What can you even do with human money?” As far as Archie knew, it wasn’t as if Damaris could open a box at the bank.
“It is for you, you little dolt. So you may stop concerning yourself with this marriage and inheritance nonsense.”
Oh. The way Damaris said it was careless, as if it ought to be obvious, but Archie’s heart skipped a beat. It hadn’t even occurred to him, and the fact that Damaris, a demon which was supposed to only be able to be selfish, had thought of that and asked for it on his behalf… Archie’s chest hurt so much he didn’t know how to breathe. He had to sit back down.
“I didn’t—” His throat closed up. It seemed so ungrateful to say that he hadn’t expected Damaris to think of him. He was a demon after all. “That is, you didn’t have to. I mean.Thank you.”
Archie surged up before he could second guess himself, closing the gap across the tent in two strides and wrapping his arms around Damaris, floating shadows at all. It felt like hugging a cloud, soft and shapeless under his arms until it solidified against him, and when Archie looked, it was Damaris in his demon form. Towering above him so Archie was pressed against the hardness of his chest. One furred arm pressed around him in return, clasped around his shoulders, and the other free hand went to his head, the too-long fingers carding through Archie’s hair.
“If you were not incapable of keeping quiet, I would devour you right now,” said Damaris loftily, and Archie blushed. A tug on his curls yanked his head back and chin up, and Archie rocked forward onto his toes to meet Damaris in the middle for a kiss. He felt a slight change in pressure, a shift of magic as if — oh! As if Damaris had lowered his magical shields!
Archie thought he was the one who struggled with words, but he didn’t have to say anything at all as he felt the immense fondness and satisfaction that emanated from Damaris.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EVEN THE BRISK weather and threat of snow couldn’t dampen Archie’s mood. He felt as though all of his senses were sharpened as they rode through the woods. He even managed to engage in small talk with Jasper’s friends and took a few shots at their first glimpse of a demon. It was a pheasant with human-like hands at the end of its wings. None of his shots hit, but they were close enough he wasn’t immediately deemed useless and the disturbing image of the pheasant carried the conversation for the next half hour.
Their retinue stopped for lunch in front of a series of cabins instead of the tents that Archie had been expecting. A servant, who must have been told in advance all the arrangements, ushered him and Damaris to one by themselves on the end of the semi-circle, slightly separated from the rest, and took charge of their horses. Archie was so relieved that they didn’t have to do any real camping that it didn’t even matter to him that the most desirable ones were considered the ones clustered in the middle near the prince’s abode.
“I really ought to ride more,” said Archie morosely, stretching out his cramping legs. He’d been much better at it as a child, but years of city-living had made him soft.
Even though the cabin appeared simple and rustic on the outside, the interior left no comfort behind. A wall of warm air greeted him, where the fire must have been burning merrily all afternoon and Archie near-groaned in delight, feeling the way that Damaris too vibrated with pleasure.
The main room was a reception area, with an array of food already set out on the side table. Damaris was already investigating under the magically-heated silver cloches and Archie watched him discover a tureen of hearty stew, a golden-brown pie that smelled of meat and gravy, roasted vegetables, and spiced apple mead, as well as crusted bread, thick-sliced cheeses, and cold desserts on the side, with unabashed interest. It was strange how Damaris had seemed lofty when he had first appeared to Archie, amused by and condescending of humans’ baser desires, compared to his reaction to things that seemed so mundane to Archie.
“What?” asked Damaris as Archie stifled a laugh at the sight of him poking the pudding.
“Nothing,” said Archie, and instead of smothering the burst of affection he felt, he embraced it. Reveled in it.
“I wish to know how this one tastes,” said Damaris, jiggling the pudding.
“I can taste them all for you. Are we expecting more people?” asked Archie, but when he glanced at the table, it wasonly set for two. And since Damaris didn’t eat real food, that meant it was all just for him.
Since it was just the two of them, Archie did away with manners, scooping out a small portion of everything and trying it. Damaris sat opposite him, watching closely as Archie concentrated on the smell, the taste, the texture of each bite. He discovered quickly which ones Damaris liked most from the way he hummed with pleasure.
The honey-sweet mead in particular made him hiss and lose control of his Damian form for a moment. Archie finished the whole tankard. It was as if he were the demon now, savoring Damaris’s reactions. If it was like this all the time, he had no idea how Damaris didn’t keep him chained to the bed. Damaris didn’t say anything when Archie announced he was done, wiping the corners of his mouth clean of custard, but there was a slight shimmer of disappointment.
“Later, stews taste even better after some time,” Archie promised, tucking it all back under the still-warm covers. Usually, when he ate this much, it was all he could do to roll himself into bed. But with Damaris siphoning the energy off him as fast as he could take it in, he felt a mixture of exhilarated – and aroused.
He’d been so hungry and tired earlier that they hadn’t even looked around the rest of the cabin in favor of immediately falling upon the food. Now, he rose to see that most of the cabin was one big room, with the sleeping area separated off by a wooden screen hung from the ceiling. Behind it were two large beds, the covers warmed with heated bricks tucked under.
“Do you have a preference?” asked Archie with some bemusement. He still didn’t know if Damaris actually slept at night, or if he spent the hours Archie was asleep prowling around the castle.
Damaris appeared to take the question seriously as he put one hand on Archie’s lower back, steering him across the room. “Start on this one, and then if it becomes unbearable, you may choose to move to the other.”
“Unbearable? Why would it be?” Archie tried very hard not to be distracted by the warmth of Damaris’s hand, the feather-light brush of his thumb across his back.
Turning slowly to blink at him, Damaris said, “When you peak, your body exudes a great amount of liquids. I surmise some are uncomfortable to sleep in.”
What? Oh. Oh! Archie felt the blush flood him immediately. “I wasn’t exactly – well, I didn’t expect to, you know, on the prince’s hunting trip.”
“Archibald,” said Damaris slowly, and oh, that was new. Archie was struck dumb for a moment at the sound of his name coming out of Damaris. He’d never heard it like that before, the letters all rich and heavy on someone else’s tongue.
“It’s Archie,” he said, annoyed to find himself flustered. It was just his name.
