What Makes a Monster

♱Twenty-Five♱

By the time I finish it's after lunch. There's no chance to ask Layne to allow me to take up Lord Makai's meal instead. Perhaps I should just knock and request to speak with him? Although, based on his mood, he may refuse or agree and grow even angrier. Who knows how far he'll chuck me out of the room the moment I anger him.

In the end, I don't manage to speak with Lord Makai until the following day. I get up extra early, rush downstairs to meet Layne, who stares at me with wide eyes when I ask, "Would you allow me to take up Lord Makai's morning tea today?"

"Uh...I suppose I don't see why not," Layne answers, although he's giving me this look that states he is baffled I would offer myself to do it. He actually ends up asking, "Why do you want to?"

"Well, I do hope to be allowed to serve His Grace on another business trip. Not that I'm trying to take your position or anything," I quickly explain.

Layne smiles. Seems he didn't think that way to begin with. Shrugging, he gestures to the kettle that's already whistling atop the stove.

"Go ahead, Wallie. This gives me more time to work on my other duties anyways."

Good. I've managed to at least go up there, although speaking with him right after waking isn't a good idea either. Whatever, I will wait until after he has his tea.

Once the tea is prepared, I head to Lord Makai's room. Knocking on the door, I announce my presence and do not enter until Lord Makai's well known snarl informs me that he is unhappily coherent.

The room is dark. The only light comes from the slightly open doorway. I attempt to stay within that light as to not trip and make a mess. Then I'm at Lord Makai's bedside, setting the tea aside and pouring a cup to hand to him. Just as I remember, he's still half asleep, resting with his back to the headboard, hair a complete mess when he takes the cup to only then realize it is not Layne in the room.

"Wallace?" Lord Makai asks.

I wonder if he knows his hand is encasing mine around the cup. My hand is heating up, which makes no sense because his hands are freezing. They're long and slender, soft and chilling yet comforting in the most anxious of ways.

"Good morning, Your Grace. Layne is attending to other duties so I've brought your morning tea. I hope it's to your liking," I say so cheerfully that it's obvious I'm teasing, which earns a snort in response.

Finally, he takes the cup. My hands remain unbelievably warm. I still feel his touch.

I walk over to the windows while announcing, "I will open the curtains now."

Light filters into the room that is as bare as ever. Admittedly, I had hoped Lord Makai would add something to his sad excuse of a room, but it's probably been like this for a thousand years. I doubt it'll change anytime soon.

"Why are you here?" Lord Makai asks, watching from over the rim of his tea cup. "Layne's duties today are with me. I doubt he would have asked for your assistance as he has always been able to handle himself on his own."

"Perhaps he was just tired today?"

My lie is seen through easily. Lord Makai holds out his empty cup for another, which I refill immediately. But he's not drinking it, he's watching me. I was such a great liar to Lord Movell though! Why am I failing miserably here? But it's not as if I'm lying because I do not wish to tell, I simply want to wait.

"I rather tell once you're in a better mood, Your Grace."

"A better mood?"

"You're rather cranky in the mornings, tack on your unwelcome guests earlier and I can easily guess you're crankier than usual."