The Devil's Warrior Queen
Chapter 292: Deja Vu

Chapter 292: Deja Vu

Rama stretched in the comfy bed as the sunlight softly streamed through her window. She was already awake but it seemed like a hassle to wake up, her limbs were too lazy to move so she stayed in bed for a while.

Groaning, she finally climbed out of the bed and reluctantly moved to the washroom, which might as well have been her favorite place in the castle.

The oval shaped crystalline tub sat in the middle of the all white room, filled to the brim with sparkly, scented water. Peeling off her clothes, she sank into the tub and soaked in it for some time.

She closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned her head against the rim. Relaxing, she felt the water ripple softly as though something was moving beneath it.

Before she could open her eyes, a reverberant echo drifted through the air "Rama!" As quickly as it came, it faded away.

Limbs thrashing in the water vigorously, her eyes shot open as she gasped erratically in fear. Skin crawling dread reflected in her countenance as she whipped her head side to side, back and forth, surveying the area but there was no sign of any presence around.

Panicking, she came out of the tub, splashing water everywhere as she moved hastily. With impulsive movements, she wore a robe to hide her nakedness from whatever strange thing was watching her, although her guts told her it was only an illusion, but still, she would rather be prudent than laid back.

Squinting her eyes she scrutinized the calm water and as she had thought, there was nothing inside. She shrugged the few seconds of her fear away as a moment of delusion.

She dressed up in a simple magenta, floral gown that complimented her skin and brushed her hair down in beautiful waves before skipping out of her room.

The very moment she stepped out of the tub, she suddenly remembered Dalen. The memories of the previous day came to her and visualizing the gory slash running across his back, she shivered.

Disturbing thoughts ran through her head as she hastened her footsteps to his chamber without wasting another second. The thought that anything could happen to him in the middle of the night while everyone was asleep and he was in a helpless state, scared her to her bone marrow.

Arriving in front of his room, she didn’t think of knocking before pushing the door open as she abruptly barged in like a crazy woman, eyes scouring the room for Dalen.

Her brows furrowed darkly as there was no sign of him but the moment she was about to call out his name, the door to the washroom swung open to reveal Dalen strutting out with a loose unbuttoned silk shirt and loose pants, slightly looking disheveled, even his hair was uncombed as they fell in unruly waves down his shoulders.

His brows arched up skeptically when he saw her standing in the middle of his room with a mask of worry and panic merging into her face.

"Did you come to check if I was dead?" He quipped sarcastically as he flashed her a sardonic smile.

She scoffed, but she was relieved he was fine. "Honestly, I was scared something bad had happened, but you look better now, is the wound almost fully healed?"

"Since you’re here, you can take a look and help me change my bandages." Dalen said as he sat stiffly at the edge of the bed.

Rama nodded empathetically, her hazel eyes reflecting both remorse and sympathy. She approached Dalen’s bedside as she half unwrapped the bandage before she carefully examined the injury, a deep gash on his back, surrounded by inflamed skin.

The wound seemed to pulsate with a faint magical aura, indicating that it was not just undergoing through physical healing but one affected by magical forces.

"The wound is still very severe, I’ll make some herbal ointment to help it heal faster." Rama said and he nodded.

With a sense of purpose, Rama began preparing a concoction of healing herbs and salves, mixing them in a small mortar like she had seen Aurora done the previous day.

Her fingers moved with practiced precision as she crushed the ingredients, creating a dressing that emitted a soothing fragrance of lavender and mint, while Dalen watched her with an unfathomable fondness in his eyes.

While being lost in every pulling action of hers, she had almost caught him staring with a smile on his face, but he was quick to hide it beneath a neutral facade as he looked away.

"I’ll need to clean the wound first," Rama said calmly, her voice a reassuring presence in the softly lit chamber.

Dalen winced as Rama fully removed the blood-soaked bandages, revealing the extent of the injury. The gash, deep and jagged, ran across his muscular back, causing him visible discomfort. Rama’s gentle touch and composed demeanor helped ease Dalen’s pain as she meticulously cleansed the wound with a mixture of warm water and herbal extracts.

As she tended to the injury, Rama engaged Dalen in conversation, distracting him from the discomfort. They spoke of ancient spells, magical creatures, and the intricate balance between light and darkness in their world. Despite the severity of Dalen’s injury, his eyes sparkled with a wisdom that transcended his physical form, captivating Rama’s attention.

Once the wound was cleansed, Rama applied the fragrant ointment, carefully spreading it over the injured area. She expertly wrapped fresh bandages around Dalen’s torso, ensuring the wound was adequately protected and allowing the healing properties of the herbs to take effect.

Throughout the engagement, his eyes swirling with hidden emotions remained fixed on her face, while he ushered her into prolonged discussions just to hear the sweet ring of her voice.

Finally, she was done but he was still lost in the mesmerizing emerald dazzle of her eyes.

"I’m done, Dalen. Are you hungry? We can have breakfast together." Rama said, snapping him out of his mesmerized state.

"Ahh, right." He murmured.

"Are you alright? You seem lost. Is something bothering you?" Rama asked.

"No, not at all." He waved his hand as he shook his head.

"Fine then, do you need help with your hair? It looks uncombed." Rama pointed out.

Running his hand through his tangled hair, he nodded as he rose from the bed, mechanically moving to the dressing table as he sat down in front of the mirror.

From the side of his eyes, he watched her through the mirror as she stood behind him. She was a striking figure, possessing an ethereal beauty that seemed to be crafted by the hands of the gods themselves. Her eyes, like shimmering pools of emerald, held an otherworldly depth, harboring wisdom beyond her years. Long cascading locks, the color of midnight, framed her elegant face, gently grazing her waist in a seamless flow.

Without her awareness, he relished in her beauty, a beauty only she held that was capable of stirring his rationality and captivating him into temptation.

Rama, unaware of the obsess filled eyes staring at her reflection, gently brushed the silky strands of his hair, the strands shimmering under the soft glow of the flickering candlelight. His hair, a striking blend of white and silver, cascaded down his back, each stroke of the brush flowing effortlessly through the enchanting locks. As she meticulously untangled any knots, a sense of serenity enveloped her, the repetitive motion of the brush against his hair creating a soothing rhythm in the quiet room.

However, amidst the tranquility of the moment, an unexpected wave of nostalgia surged through Rama. It was a curious sensation, a feeling of déjà vu that tugged at the corners of her memory. A faint echo of familiarity lingered in the back of her mind, as though this simple act of brushing hair was not entirely unfamiliar to her.

In her mind’s eye, flashes of another time, another place, danced before her. She could almost envision herself in a foreign world, surrounded by towering castles and verdant forests. There, amidst the tapestries and stone walls, she had brushed the hair of someone significant, someone deeply cherished in her past.

The reminiscence was vivid yet elusive, like a dream that teased her consciousness. She could almost grasp the image of a figure, a beloved individual from that distant realm. The sensation was bittersweet, evoking emotions she struggled to comprehend, a blend of fondness, longing, and an inexplicable yearning for a time lost to the mists of memory.

With each stroke of the brush, Rama found herself lost in contemplation, trying to decipher the fragments of recollection that tantalized her mind. Dalen, unaware of the whirlwind of emotions within Rama, sat calmly, his eyes closed, surrendering to the gentle care bestowed upon him.

As she continued to weave the brush through his hair, the sense of déjà vu intensified. It was as if she was transported to a foggy dream. The familiarity in the way the strands fell and the softness under her touch ignited a profound sense of connection, a bond that transcended the present moment.

The whispers of an ancient bond between souls, woven through the fabric of time, whispered to Rama, teasing her consciousness with fragments of a forgotten past. She wondered if Dalen had any inkling of this inexplicable connection, if he, too, felt a faint echo of the distant past lingering in the air around them.

Despite the uncertainty shrouding these hazy memories, Rama found solace in the act itself. There was a comforting intimacy in the simple gesture of brushing someone’s hair, but unfortunately it was impossible to grasp the unknown person shrouded in an enigmatic void.