Olivia
The carriage was different from the one that had collected the tributes. That one had been bare and dark, with narrow slits that we had to jostle against each other to look through.
This one was plush and luxurious, with wide glass windows and heavy velvet curtains. The seats were padded with more velvet. Damien took one seat, and I knelt at his feet like a good Pet.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Sire?" I wasn't sure what he meant. Was I supposed to lay down? Or sit on his lap? I didn't want to do that when anyone could look inside the wide windows and see me.
"If you're comfortable down there, it's fine I guess," Damien said, "but there's a perfectly good seat. Use it."
"Oh. Yes, Sire."
I scrambled to sit on the opposite seat. Why was Damien treating me so much better
