Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 307: Chapter Three Hundred And Six

Damon looked down at her head, feeling guilty. He had just wanted to do something sweet, and instead, he had caused her physical pain. He fully expected her to turn around, snatch the brush out of his hand, and yell at him for being a clumsy brute.

But Camilla did not yell.

She slowly lowered her hands from her head. She turned her body slightly on the velvet stool. She looked up at his panicked, guilty face.

She let out a soft, quiet sigh. She did not look angry. She just looked amused by his complete lack of gentle skills.

"You cannot start from the top of the head when the hair is curly and tangled, my lord," Camilla explained softly. Her voice was calm and patient. She sounded like a teacher explaining a simple task to a confused student.

Damon listened closely to her every word.

Camilla reached up. She grabbed a thick section of her own hair.

"You have to hold the hair firmly near the roots with your free hand," Camilla instructed clearly, demonstrating the motion. She gripped the middle of her hair tightly. "This stops the brush from pulling on my scalp."

She pointed a finger toward the very bottom of her curls.

"Then," Camilla continued, "you start brushing from the very ends of the hair. You gently work the tangles out at the bottom first. Once the ends are smooth, you slowly work your way up toward the top of the head."

Damon nodded his head slowly. His mind easily processed the step-by-step instructions.

"I understand," Damon replied softly.

He stepped closer to her back again. He took a slow, deep breath, determined to do it perfectly this time.

Damon reached out and gently gathered a thick section of her curly hair. He held the hair very firmly, but very carefully, near the middle of her back, making sure there was no tension on her scalp.

Then, he began to brush. He moved his hand slowly and gently. He pulled the bristles softly through the bottom curls, easily working out the small tangles.

He moved his hands up slightly higher. He brushed again.

He was entirely focused on the task. His eyes watched the strands of hair falling smoothly through the wooden bristles. He moved with extreme caution, treating her hair like the most fragile, expensive silk in the entire kingdom.

Camilla felt the gentle, careful strokes of the brush. She felt his large, warm hand holding her hair securely so it did not hurt.

It felt nice. It was deeply relaxing.

Camilla closed her eyes. She let her shoulders drop, releasing the heavy tension in her muscles.

She started humming again.

The soft, sweet, peaceful melody filled the quiet bedroom once more.

Damon heard her humming. An overwhelming wave of relief washed over his chest.

For the next ten minutes, the room was peaceful.

Damon worked his way around her head, section by section. He brushed her curls until they were shining brightly in the warm yellow light of the oil lamps.

Finally, Damon reached the last section of her hair. He pulled the brush down her back in one final, long, smooth stroke.

He slowly lowered his hands.

"I am finished," Damon said quietly.

Camilla opened her eyes. She looked at her reflection in the large mirror. Her hair looked beautiful, falling in soft waves over her white nightgown.

She turned her head slightly and smiled a very soft smile up at him.

"Thank you," Camilla said sincerely. "You learn very fast."

Damon felt a surge of proud satisfaction hit his chest. He gently placed the wooden brush down onto the polished surface of the vanity table.

"Wait here," Damon spoke softly.

He turned his body around and walked with long, quiet strides across the floorboards. He walked over to the large bed where he had dropped his coat.

He reached deep inside the inner pocket of the coat and pulled his hand out. He walked slowly back across the room. He stopped right behind Camilla’s vanity stool again.

He looked at her in the mirror. He felt a sudden, sharp spike of nervousness hit his stomach. This was the moment. This was his apology. He hoped she would understand his deep sincerity.

Damon slowly unwrapped the dark velvet cloth. He pulled the edges back, revealing the beautiful, shining gold locket hanging from a delicate golden chain.

Camilla watched his reflection in the mirror. She saw the flash of bright gold in his hands.

"I got you something," Damon said. His voice was a little bit rough and slightly hesitant.

He stepped very close to her back. He reached his arms around her neck. He was very careful not to touch her skin with his cold fingers. He draped the delicate golden chain gently around the back of her neck. He moved his fingers to the clasp and secured it perfectly with a tiny click.

He stepped back slightly, letting the gold locket fall against her chest.

Camilla looked down. She felt the cool, solid weight of the gold resting against the soft white silk of her nightgown.

She raised her hand and gently touched the smooth metal of the locket. She looked back up into the large glass mirror to inspect the gift.

It was indeed beautiful. The gold was flawless, shining brightly in the lamplight.

Then, Camilla noticed the deep, elegant engraving carved into the front cover of the gold.

She leaned slightly forward to read the flowing letters.

Camilla loves Winston.

Camilla’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. She stared at her own name, and she stared at the name of her beloved cat.

Damon stood still behind her. He watched her face closely in the mirror. He watched her eyes read the words.

Camilla moved her fingers. She found the tiny golden clasp on the side of the locket. She pressed the clasp and gold cover popped open instantly.

Camilla looked down at the inside of the open locket.

On the right side of the golden frame, resting perfectly under a tiny piece of clear glass, was a beautifully painted miniature portrait.

Camilla became motionless.

Her hand stopped moving. Her eyes widened. She stared down at the tiny painted face of Winston.

The master bedroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Camilla did not say a single word or even show any emotions.

She just sat rigidly still on her velvet stool, staring blindly down at the open locket resting in her hand.

Damon stood behind her.

He waited for her to speak. He waited for her to say thank you, or to tell him that she loved the painting, or to tell him that he had remembered her words perfectly.

But there was no sound in the room.

Damon quickly closed his eyes. He focused his mind deeply, trying to hear her thoughts. He wanted to know if she was happy, or if the gift had made her too emotional to speak.

He listened carefully into her mind.

But what Damon heard terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He heard nothing.

Her mind was void. There was no internal voice. Her brain and mind had gone blank.

It was the exact same silence she had fallen into when she had shut him out.

Damon opened his eyes quickly. Anxiety flooded instantly into his chest. His heart began to hammer wildly.

He stared at the back of her hair.

"Is she still upset?" Damon thought to himself, his internal voice filled with a desperate, crushing panic. "Did the gift fail? Did I do something wrong again? Why isn’t she saying anything?"

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