affection chapter 10

His face was scratched and bruised, his hair a tangled mess. Though Damon’s clothes were torn and tattered, a sorry sight indeed, as he ran toward Sienna, in that moment, he was her valiant, if diminutive, hero.

***

“Y-Your Grace. What brings you here?” The Baron, ashen-faced, flung his sword aside and scrambled to prostrate himself before the Duke, who sat astride a sleek, black steed, followed not only by Damon but a retinue of knights.

“Do I require a reason to visit my nephew’s estate?” the Duke’s voice was low and sharp, directed at the cowering Baron. Sienna, her fear finally receding, surreptitiously studied the Duke as Damon worked diligently to free her bound wrists.

Though the sunlight was bright, making it difficult to see clearly, she could tell at a glance that the Duke shared a similar air with Damon. Unlike Damon’s pale, almost ethereal complexion, the Duke’s skin was bronzed and healthy. His dark hair, disheveled from the ride, framed a strong forehead. His brow, arched elegantly above deep-set eyes, suggested a certain gentleness, yet the overall strength of his features, the firm cheekbones and hollowed cheeks, hinted at a formidable presence. He possessed the natural authority of one born to command, an aura that compelled Sienna to lower her gaze, yet simultaneously sparked a desire to steal another glance.

Compared to the ironclad knights, he wore only a single layer of chainmail, yet his stature rivaled theirs. Considering the knights were twice Sienna’s size, the Duke appeared almost gigantic.

“N-no, of course not, Your Grace,” the Baron stammered, unable to meet the Duke’s piercing gaze. A frown creased the Duke’s brow. Dismissing the Baron with a flick of his wrist, he commanded his knights, “Seize him.”

The knights dismounted and advanced, their heavy boots thudding against the ground, quickly subduing the Baron. Terror flooded the Baron’s face as he cried out, “Y-you misunderstand!”

“What is the misunderstanding?”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I was merely… disciplining him! It was for his own good, to correct the young master…!”

“How presumptuous,” the Duke’s voice dripped with icy fury, silencing the Baron mid-sentence. “Do you believe yourself qualified to correct a member of the royal family?”

“B-but Prince Damon… he’s different from the others…!”

“Different in what way?”

“He’s… he’s cursed…!”

A sudden gust of wind whipped past the Baron. A thin, hairline fracture appeared on his forehead, and a lock of hair fell to the ground. The Duke sheathed a sword Sienna hadn’t even seen him draw.

A choked gasp escaped the Baron’s lips as blood welled from the wound, trickling down his face, past his brow, and over his eyelids.

“That prophecy is not for the likes of you to utter,” the Duke’s voice was low and menacing.

“F-forgive me! I beg your mercy!” the Baron pleaded, clutching at the Duke’s leg.

The Duke looked down at him with cold disdain. “Perhaps you wish for your wrist to be severed as well.”

The Baron recoiled as if burned, releasing his grip. Sienna felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the complete reversal of their power dynamic.

“Damon bears numerous scars, some old, some so fresh they’re barely a day old,” the Duke’s voice was tight with barely suppressed rage, as if the sight of those wounds was vivid in his mind. The air around him crackled with a ferocity that could cleave men in two. The Baron cowered, his head bowed low.

“I… I can explain everything, Your Grace.”

“Baron Rimerio, did you find my request to care for my nephew so amusing?”

“A-amusing? Never, Your Grace!”

“And I suppose you also enjoyed deceiving me with your charade of doting guardianship during my visits.”

“I-I knew nothing about it! It was my men! I’ve always been like a father to Damon!” Sienna stared at him, incredulous.

The Duke, regarding the Baron with utter contempt, turned his gaze to Damon, who met his uncle’s eyes with an impassive expression. The two shared a stillness, a mirrored intensity.

“Damon, I ask you. Has this man truly been like a father to you?”

“Y-young Master Damon! I raised you from a babe! I fed you with my own hands! You’ll be cursed if you deny it!”

“Speak one more word, and I’ll silence you permanently.” The Duke pressed his blade against the Baron’s lips, cutting him off mid-sentence. The Baron shrank back, his mouth clamped shut.

Damon’s lips parted, and a clear voice rang out. “You always called me a demon’s spawn. Why are you so afraid to become one yourself, Baron Rimerio?” He fell silent, but the words hung heavy in the air.

The Baron, his face a mask of fear, opened his mouth to speak, but the Duke cut him off. “As of this day, you are stripped of your authority as steward of Marbas Castle and as Damon’s guardian. Furthermore, your crimes against a member of the royal family will be brought to justice.”

“Y-Your Grace… there’s been a misunderstanding… Unhand me!” The knights dragged the struggling Baron away, his protests echoing Sienna’s earlier cries, but falling on deaf ears.