Some Plan

Davien did his best not to shut his door too loudly. It would alert Bel, and she would know something was wrong. He absolutely needed to prevent that, which meant he had to find a way to calm down. Hopefully, that wouldn't be too hard. He cursed under his breath—he should have told Misha to stay hidden, but the witch knew better than to roam.

He was fine. There was no way Misha was right. He hadn't even coughed the night before, had slept peacefully, and had woken up feeling better than ever. He remembered the pain from the curse. If the curse were truly active, he would be in excruciating pain, but he didn't feel that. Was Misha just trying to scare him? It was hard to know what the witch was thinking.

He needed to clean up. It would be time for Bel's dinner soon enough, and nothing in hell was going to make him miss that. But first, he'd have to come up with a good enough excuse. He was about to stand up when he heard a knock.