Curses and Cream Puffs

There was already enough anxiety around any time Damien had to face his father. Having this mystery girl suddenly appear in his home only tripled that. He had spent nearly two hours in front of the mirror to make sure he looked presentable. It was like he was on his way to meet with the king. Lena stood by him with a hairbrush in her hand and her arms crossed impatiently.

"Are you done yet, princess?" she asked. "Some of us have to fix our hair, too."

"Then use your own mirror."

He could feel her glare burning into his skin and sighed, finally moving to the side.

"I'll be a few hours," he told her. "Don't move the furniture again. And don't touch my clothes. It took all day to get all the pink out."

She had a smug look on her face as she started brushing through her hair, but she didn't promise him anything. He knew she'd cause trouble regardless.

"I have some more things I need you to get while you're out," she told him.

"I don't have time," he said.

"It's necessary," she argued, holding her list out.

"Then get it yourself," he said.

She raised a brow at him and he shook his head, opening a drawer and taking some money out of a safebox. He placed it in her palm, but she didn't seem impressed.

"I'll need more than that," she said.

"That's what you get," he told her. "Go to the market, get what you need, and come back. Don't talk to anyone, don't look at anyone... don't even breathe more than necessary. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say."

He was hesitant to trust that she would dig him into an even deeper hole, but he couldn't wait around much longer. Keeping his father waiting would make things harder than they already were.

When he got to the house, his mother was waiting for him. Emelia seemed just as anxious as he did, fussing over straightening out his hair and clothes from the moment he walked in.

"I'm not looking ship-shape?" he asked.

"How could you do this?" she huffed.

"Do what?"

"Elope with a girl?" she snapped. "Move her into your house? Without telling any of us?"

"He wasn't supposed to tell you," Damien sighed. "It's a long story, Mother. Too long. I'd rather not get into the details of it."

"Fine," she said. "Your father has been waiting."

Damien gave her a last apologetic look before heading towards the stairs and down to the basement. Louis was already there with a grin on his face that Damien truly wanted to punch. He stepped aside to let Damien get to his father's side. Rupert was sitting in a chair with a glass of red wine, looking at Damien expectantly.

"I know the girl was unexpected," Damien found himself blurting. "But I just-"

"I don't care," Rupert grunted. "That's a battle to take with your mother. Your personal choices became your own when you stopped living under my roof."

"Oh."

"I received confirmation from the reporter," he said. "The witch has been missing for days. Seems you did a quiet job of it."

"I like to avoid cleaning up," Damien said. "I don't need a bloodbath to feel like I have power."

He gave a pointed look to Louis, who just glared back at him.

"I did the job," Damien continued. "That's what matters, doesn't it?"

"You did," Rupert said. "So I have another job for you."

"For him?" Louis snapped. "Again? What about me?"

"It needs discretion," Rupert said to him sternly. "Your brother carries out his duties with discretion. And like he said, you prefer a bloodbath. Your skills will be applied elsewhere."

He handed Damien the paper with the location of the report on it. This one was in Landoxe, much further away. It would be at least a two day journey each way.

"This one had more than one report," Rupert said. "It continues to terrorize the people of the town, but the Duke doesn't want it to tarnish his name. That's why it needs to be rid of with discretion. Will you do it?"

"Yes, sir," Damien said.

"And don't let this new girl distract you," Rupert warned. "Never forget the real reason why we are here."

Damien didn't say anything, but nodded. Clearly, no one took his supposed "marriage" seriously, but they had all believed it. Damien was known to do most things in secret, and they weren't surprised at that point. He was sure that his father assumed the girl would be gone in a month. Damien thought he might have been offended if Lena didn't actually have plans to leave.

She was sorting things out in the kitchen when he got back home. She only briefly looked at him before resuming her humming and housework. Once again, the furniture had been rearranged.

"I told you not to touch anything," he said.

"And I heard you," she said simply.

"You bought all of this with the money I gave you?" he questioned.

"No, I took some more," she said. "You're not very good at hiding the key to your safebox."

Damien rolled his eyes and took off his jacket, leaving it on a chair.

"Put it in the closet," Lena scolded. "I just cleaned the house up."

"It's my house," he said. "Just because you're pretending to be my wife doesn't mean you can nag me."

She glared at him and picked up the jacket. The piece of paper fluttered out of the pocket to the floor. She knelt and picked it up, reading it with a furrowed brow.

"Is this another job?" she asked.

"It's not your concern."

"Yes it is," she insisted. "I'm concerned, and therefore this is my concern. I'm not letting you hurt anyone."

"It's not as simple as you think it is," he said.

"I'm coming with you," she said firmly. "And that's that."

"It could be dangerous," he said.

"Witches are not dangerous," she said. "I'm not dangerous. And poor person is probably just another victim of a false report."

"Fine. Come and see."

"Fine."

"Fine."