Chapter 372 - Three Hundred And Seventy One

Chapter 372: Chapter Three Hundred And Seventy One

Dani walked forward and performed a low, slightly shaky curtsy.

"My Lord," Dani said, her voice sounding a little too breathy, a little too tight.

Before she could continue her sentence, Damon cut her off. He did not look up from his book. He was too annoyed by his wife’s absence to care about the maid’s nervous behavior.

"Is my wife not back yet?" Damon asked, his tone flat and slightly impatient.

Dani kept her head bowed. She shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed firmly on her own black shoes.

"No, my lord," Dani answered softly, her hands still twisting in her apron. "There is no sign of her carriage at the front gates."

Damon frowned deeply. He closed his ledger with a soft thud and dropped it beside him. He grumbled quietly under his breath, his voice sounding like a large, unhappy bear.

"She said she would be home as soon as she finishes with Allen," Damon murmured to himself, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "But it’s taking so long. What could they possibly be talking about for hours?"

He looked back toward the middle of the room and noticed the maid was still standing there. Dani was quiet. She was not leaving, but she was not speaking either. She just stood there, continuously wriggling her fingers together, her shoulders stiff and tense.

Damon cleared his throat loudly, breaking the awkward silence.

"Go ahead," Damon said, giving her permission to deliver whatever message she had brought.

"Mrs. Sarah told me to inform you that Lord Syrus is here," Dani replied quickly, the words rushing out of her mouth. "He is waiting downstairs, my lord."

Damon nodded his head once.

"Send him up," He instructed.

"Yes, my lord," Dani said. She curtsied again and left the room. She closed the door firmly behind her, leaving Damon alone again.

A few minutes later, the door swung open with a lot more force.

Lord Syrus walked into the room. He was dressed impeccably in a fine tailored coat with silver buttons. His posture was relaxed, and a wide, relieved smile was spread across his face. He walked with a swagger, ignoring the usual formalities.

"Good lord, Damon," Syrus said loudly, shaking his head as he walked toward the center of the room. "Look at you. You are actually sitting up."

Damon let out a short, quiet chuckle. "Did you think I was a ghost?"

Syrus walked closer, stopping near the edge of the large rug. "When I received your secret letter this morning, I honestly couldn’t believe what I read. I had to read it three times. Everyone in the capital thinks you wouldn’t make it. Most people are convinced you didn’t make it at all."

Syrus shook his head again, amazed by the sight of his friend breathing and speaking.

"Some rumors on the streets were even speculating that you were already dead," Syrus continued, waving his hand in the air. "They were saying that your wife didn’t want anyone to know, so she sealed the gates and kept your rotting body in the house to hold onto the military power."

Damon rolled his eyes at the ridiculous rumors of the capital. "People have too much free time."

Syrus laughed. He felt so relieved to see his friend alive that he stepped forward, grabbed the edge of the mattress, and proceeded to sit himself down right on the edge of Damon’s bed to get comfortable.

Instantly, Damon’s relaxed expression vanished. His eyes went wide, and his hands moved quickly.

"Get up!" Damon shouted suddenly, waving his hands aggressively at Syrus. He started shooing his friend away like a farmer chasing a wild bird out of a barn. "Get off! Get off the bed!"

Syrus froze, startled. He quickly stood up, raising both his hands in defense, looking at Damon as if the general had lost his mind.

"What?" Syrus asked, utterly confused. "What is wrong?"

Damon glared at him, pointing a strict finger toward the chairs on the other side of the room.

"Don’t alter my scent in my own home," Damon grumbled, pulling the bedsheets closer to himself protectively. "My wife doesn’t like any other scent aside from mine on our bed. If you sit here, you will leave your perfume on the sheets. Go to the chair. Make yourself comfortable over there."

Syrus stared at Damon in stunned silence for three full seconds. Then, he threw his head back and burst into loud, roaring laughter. The sound filled the room. He could not believe what he was hearing. The great, terrifying General Damon Benson, the man who struck fear into the hearts of enemy armies, was fiercely guarding his bedsheets because of his wife’s preferences.

Syrus laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. "I never thought I would live to see this day," Syrus said between chuckles. "I never thought I would see you actually love someone. And your own wife, nevertheless! The same woman you barely looked at a year ago. This is incredible."

Damon did not look embarrassed at all. He kept a straight face, making sure Syrus moved away from the bed.

Syrus finally calmed down, wiping a small tear of laughter from his eye. He walked over to an armchair near the window, pulled it closer to the bed, and sat down comfortably.

As soon as Syrus sat down, the playful, laughing mood in the room evaporated.

Syrus crossed one leg over the other. He rested his hands on his knee, and his face turned entirely serious. His eyes grew dark and sharp. Damon knew that specific look very well. It was the look Syrus always wore when he was holding dangerous, highly sensitive information.

Syrus leaned forward slightly and spoke in a low, quiet voice. "Your uncle is back in the capital."

Damon did not flinch. He did not look surprised. He just stared calmly back at his friend.

Syrus smirked slightly, noticing Damon’s lack of reaction. "You already knew. You have been expecting him."

Damon just shrugged his shoulders casually. "I received a letter from the main estate. I know Duke Collin would be arriving anytime soon. A man like him does not return from a two-year diplomatic mission without a major reason. He smells blood in the water."