The maid had just reached for the door when Deamon's voice, soft and steady, called her back.
"Wait."
She froze, turning around, her hands clasped neatly in front of her apron.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Your name..."
"Its-its Sandra"'
He leaned back against the velvet armchair, expression warm but calculating.
"I hope I'm not troubling you, but could you tell me more about the palace's layout? I enjoy walking at night. Clears the mind."
Her eyes flickered, something shifting behind them.
"Layers...? I-I wouldn't know, my lord. I'm new here."
Deamon let out a light, disarming chuckle.
"Oh, how thoughtless of me. Of course you are. But you see..." He tilted his head slightly, his tone softening like a silk thread pulling taut. "I tend to wander before I sleep. The mind's an unruly thing when left restless."
The girl hesitated, fidgeting with her sleeves.
"Ah, I see... but I don't think the guards allow guests to roam the halls at night, my lord."
Deamon's smile never wavered.
