I sensed that was the impression he wanted to give me.
“Do you feel better after your rest?” he asked.
I nodded, smoothing my empty hand over the shirt I wore. It covered me from my collarbones to my knees, hanging like a tent over my figure. Though it wasn’t transparent, it wasn’t heavy enough to keep the chill of the room away from my skin. Especially my bare feet.
Though I was doing everything in my power to remain expressionless, the daemon seemed to sense my discomfort.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
Though I was tempted to lie and tell him I was fine, I nodded.
“I’ll have to come over there to light the fire,” he said.
“Okay.”
I backed away from the fireplace, shifting to keep the sofa between us. His posture was casual and unbothered as he knelt in front of the fireplace. He pushed one of the large stones to his right, and it swung open to reveal a hidden niche beside the hearth. It was full of logs and held a basket of wood shavings and pieces of bark for kindling. Now that I knew where the items were, I could start a fire on my own.
I watched as he laid out the logs and created a nest of wood shavings and bark. But instead of reaching for a match or some other implement to light the fire, he leaned over the nest and snapped his fingers. A spark fell from his hand, landing in the kindling. Within seconds, it had flared to life, and he nudged it beneath the logs he’d carefully arranged in the fireplace.
In less than five minutes, the fire burned brightly in the fireplace, and I could feel the heat radiating from the stones.
He closed the niche that held the wood and straightened from his crouched position. Then, he moved away, keeping his distance so I could get closer to the fire without getting closer to him.
I appreciated his efforts to put me at ease, but I wasn’t ready to fully trust him. Not yet. Until I’d had enough time to assess his intentions, I wasn’t going to let down my guard.
I hadn’t realized how cold my legs and feet had gotten, and nearly moaned at the heat emanating from the fire. I found myself inching closer to the hearth, no longer worried about how close Bokkan was to me. Apparently, warmth was more important at the moment.
He eyed me closely. I was still learning to recognize expressions on the alien faces of the daemons and imps, but he appeared concerned. Without a word, he walked over to the enormous wardrobe in the corner and began to open drawers. After a few moments, he came back toward me with two knit sleeves gripped in his clawed fist.
When he held them out, he said, “They’re to be worn on our forearms beneath armor in the winter, but they should work to keep your feet and legs warmer.”
I would not soften toward this daemon. Not even when he showed me consideration and kindness. I couldn’t trust him, even though a small part of me wanted to.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the knit garments from him.
They were heavy and soft. I knew they would be plenty warm just by the weight of them.
“If you don’t mind me altering them, I’d like to sew one end together so they will cover my feet and stay wrapped around my toes.”
He nodded and went back to the wardrobe. A moment later, he returned with a needle and thick thread. “Will this do?”
I nodded, holding out a hand for them.
“I can sew them for you,” he offered.
“Have you ever seen a pair of socks before?” I asked, glancing down at his bare, clawed feet. I noticed some of the monsters wore boots, and some were barefoot. I wasn’t sure whether they wore socks beneath the soft leather boots with thick, heavy soles or if their claws would cut right through the fabric.
He shook his head.
“Then, it’s probably best if I sew them.”
The daemon handed me the needle and thread before stepping back, leaving plenty of space between us.
“I will contact one of the dressmakers in the city and see about getting you some human clothing.”
I sat on the couch, curling one leg beneath me, and draped the blanket over my lap. “Dressmaker?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.
I’d been a tomboy as a teenager and, as a grown woman, I preferred to wear pants or shorts whenever possible. I hated theway dresses felt. And how they never seemed to fit me right. They would always bunch up in one place, or I would step on the hem or nearly choke myself when I sat down.
