Daemon had always been so finely tuned to her. Now, with the close proximity, his body practically hummed in time with each heartbeat. The anger that had permeated even their psychic thread had begun to dissipate. Daemon looked at her carefully, wondering how much of her full strength had she come into? The pendant was the outward sign of course, but there was the inner strength. The call of Queen and Witch. Had she opened herself up to what she truly was? He searched her face, those ancient eyes, looking for the answer.
He returned the motion of the inclined head, threading his fingers through his dark hair. Instantly, his hands returned to where they were in his lap, his thumb toying with the silver ring. "I trust that you are well, Lady?" he asked softly, even as he yearned to ask what had happened that night. She was obviously unharmed, but there were many scars that were never outwardly visible.
What had happened? Was she truly here? He could sense her strength and that she still wore the Black meant she hadn't been Broken. Still, she had fallen onto Protocol and as such, he would not break the rules it dictated. His hand clenched then released as he stared up at her, praying to the Darkness that she'd let him slip out of the confines of Protocol.