Cecilia pouted, the expression visible despite the veil that fell just on her nose, framing her red lips like a curtain partially drawn. "Your Highness, you didn't look out for me when I was missing."
The corridor stretched before them. High ceilings, heavy tapestries, guards positioned at intervals that suggested surveillance while permitting private conversation.
Damon walked with his usual stride, escorting her.
"Did I need to?" He scowled at her. "You turned out fine. Too fine in fact that you got yourself three fine men."
"Angela didn't freak out, so I didn't. I figured you are fine since she didn't throw a tantrum. You know she's supposed to be the one with the complete information about everything."
Ah. The delegated concern and distributed responsibility, the emotional labor outsourced to the sibling who actually performed feelings while he managed their consequences.
"But I actually almost died."
