There were two pins right where the straight circling arms and the ornamental loose links fitted together on either side, and he tried his best with his large fingers not to hurt her as he pushed them through her hair to secure it in place.
“You are giving me a crown?” Her voice was laced with confusion when she reached up to touch it when he was done.
He didn’t get up, choosing to stay kneeling in front of her since she didn’t appear distressed with him caging her into the chair.
Her fear is lessening. By the day, the minute, even the second, he could already smell that scent lessening from her. Even now it was far less apparent than before he’d placed the circlet over her forehead.
It was so barely present that he actually had to lean in closer to smell it at all. And he did, not only to try to detect it, but also to greedily take in her elderberry and rose scent.
The concoction he’d layered her in the previous evening was already dull and waning, but it had never prevented him from smelling her. Since he was the wielder of the magic, it didn’t affect him, only others.
I like her smell. If she wasn’t so wary of him, which he could still see, he would have leaned forward and licked her so he could taste it.
All the humans smelt different. Some smelt like plants, others like fruit, and then there had been the few that smelt wildly unpleasant. Hers is one of my favourites so far.
The meanings behind her berry and flowery smell were symbolic to someone who worked with their meanings. He’d used elderberries occasionally for protection in the past, but he’d never worked with roses before.
He gave a snorting huff of enjoyment, which she must have taken as him saying yes, because she asked, “How do you have this? And why a crown at all? Wouldn’t a necklace have been easier?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t make it,” he answered truthfully. Orpheus didn’t know how to create something like this, something so delicate, pretty, and full of this kind of strange, yet strong, magic. “It was given to me.”
She fingered the teardrop sapphire, flicking it to make it sway against her forehead. “By who?”
“I don’t know that, either. I found it upon my kitchen table eons ago with a note that instructed me to give it to my humans for protection.”
He’d been angered at the time that someone had managed to sneak into his home undetected and not leave a single trace behind for him to stalk in revenge. However, he’d done as instructed with the next offering he’d brought here, and she’d survived a little longer than the others before her.
He raised a claw and tapped the V-shaped point of the metal circlet.
“I have discovered Demons refuse to touch it, and any that had were burned by it like they’d stepped into the sunlight. Strong Demons who are able to withstand the sun for a short period of time are able to touch you still, but weak ones cannot.”
It wasn’t perfect, but he doubted anything would be. The stronger the Demon, the harder it was to kill. They were still unable to hold the amulet, but Reia would be fair game, and they’d eat everything other than her head to appease their hunger.
Weaker ones would scream in agony if they tried to touch her at all.
That was enough to bring him comfort as it was generally the weak ones that loitered in this part of the Veil, besides the odd few. They were intelligent enough to stay out of his territory, and he stayed out of theirs, a sort of unspoken truce between them.
“Why are you giving me this though? Is your house not enough protection?”
“It is so that you can go outside, with my supervision, of course.”
“Wait,” she gasped as she lowered her hands, tilting her head at him which made the teardrop sway and fall to the side. “You’re not actually going to trap me inside?”
“Although that would be for the best,” he said, leaning back so he could roll to his feet and stand. “I have learned that you humans go partially insane if you are locked inside.”
He reached his hand forward, hoping she might take it like she had once before.
“My gosh.” Her voice was high-pitched, but he felt a spark of delight when she reached her hand forward and placed it in his own so he could help her to stand. “Just how many have you brought here to know so much about us?”
“I have a sword in my room if you wish to carry it outside to make yourself feel better,” he said, instead of answering her question.
He knew the amount, but it was many. He’d been taking an offering every decade for over a hundred and eighty years. Reia was his nineteenth, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps she could be the last.