As was always the way when she turned that look on him, Daemon couldn't help but shiver. He could see Witch there, lurking in the deep abyss of her midnight eyes. He'd always known how close Witch was to the surface when she was a child, but to see her like this -- how much more pronounced it was. Still, while she looked older, she was still the child he left. Was still the child he had been racing to save, the child he broke the Ring for. The child...
"Lucivar... escaped?" The words sounded foreign to his ears. Lucivar and freedom. His stomach clenched, wondering what had been the price of his freedom. How long had he been in the salt mines in the end? Mother Night, how had he survived this long without his wings? He bit back the questions, knowing that Protocol did not allow for them.
He lapsed into silence, wondering when the last time there had ever been this sense of unease between them. Once more he met her gaze as she extended her hands towards him. He swallowed hard and took each hand in turn, lightly kissing the backs of her hands. Daemon lifted his head, trying to keep his face impassive -- that mask he had adopted lest he betray any emotions.
"Please," he said softly. "Tell me what happened."