Damien's brow arched, the corner of his mouth tilting as he swiveled slightly in his chair to regard her fully. "You've been learning massage?"
Elysia nodded, her hands still calmly folded before her. "Yes, young master. Recently."
"Hm?" His voice was all amusement now—low and edged with that wry interest only she seemed capable of drawing out without even trying. The smile followed—not wide, but real. Curious. "And why, exactly?"
She didn't flinch. "Because you are always tense after meetings with the Elford council. And when you return from the lower sectors. And when you pace in the south corridor instead of sleeping."
Damien chuckled under his breath, one hand lifting in loose surrender. "I see."
But he didn't object.
Didn't tease.
Didn't give her permission, either.
He simply leaned back again, rolling his shoulders once before settling into the chair with a low, audible breath. A silent invitation.
Elysia moved.
