(From Demetrius's Perspective)
"You look happy," I said as I entered the room the duke prepared for me and my wife.
"I am actually," she turned around and smiled, but her face turned gloomy again in a moment. "Blood..."
"It's not mine. As I anticipated, I needed to take care of trash," I said and rubbed my forehead.
"... But your attire is ripped a bit from the front..."
"There was a mad bastard," I grumbled. "Don't worry, I am not hurt."
She just shook her head a bit and then got down from the frame of the window where she was sitting. With steady and quick steps, she came in front of me and touched the front of my attire where it was ripped. As if she knew, she touched over the little cut I got and glared at me.
Did she forget that I could heal? Or was she worried that it might have hurt me when that bastard attacked me?
