CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (28)
The room fell silent after Damiel's words.
"As if someone more powerful is controlling them."
The officers exchanged uneasy glances.
The Northern Border General frowned as he looked down at the map spread across the heavy oak table.
Wooden markers represented villages, patrol routes, supply lines, and attack locations. Several of the southern settlements had already been moved farther inland after the recent raids.
"Your Highness believes this is organized?" one of the captains asked cautiously.
Damiel's eyes remained fixed on the map.
"Wolves hunt for food."
He moved one of the markers slightly.
"They do not attack supply caravans one day, livestock the next, and military patrols the day after."
His finger tapped lightly against the table.
"This is strategy."
The room grew quieter.
Roan leaned back in his chair.
"Their attacks are forcing civilians away from the borders."
Kael nodded.
"And stretching our patrols thinner."
The general's expression darkened.
"If they continue at this rate, panic will spread before winter arrives."
Damiel looked toward him.
"How many casualties?"
"Minimal military losses."
The general hesitated.
"But the villages suffered heavily."
"Fields were burned."
"Livestock were taken."
"Several families have already relocated farther north."
Damiel's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
The werewolves knew exactly where to strike.
Not enough damage to start a war.
Just enough damage to slowly weaken morale.
"Do you think it's an Alpha giving them orders?" one of the commanders asked.
Damiel didn't answer directly.
Instead, he said,
"The wolves are prideful."
"They prefer direct confrontation."
He moved another marker.
"This," he said, pointing at the damaged areas on the map, "requires patience."
"Planning."
"Discipline."
His gaze lifted.
"Someone else is leading them."
The room erupted into quiet whispers.
An organized wolf force at the border was far more dangerous than random raids.
Zaiel finally spoke.
"If someone truly is leading them, then this isn't revenge."
Every eye turned toward him.
"It's preparation," Zaiel and Damiel said at the same time.
"And revenge is simply a bonus for the werewolves," Damiel added.
The room fell silent once again.
The Northern General straightened.
"What are your orders, Your Highness?"
Damiel answered immediately.
"Increase patrols."
"Double the scouts on the southern roads."
"No large troop movements."
"If they want to draw us out, we won't give them the opportunity."
The general bowed.
"As you command."
Kael leaned forward slightly.
"And if they attack again?"
Damiel's eyes hardened.
"If they attack, observe first, report, we come up with a plan and engage later."
The general lowered his head, his hand on his chest.
"As you command, Your Highness."
Damiel wanted to end this war quickly, but engaging in battle without knowing who the true enemy was would only force him to start all over again. While they fought the werewolves, their real enemy could simply gather another army from one of the demons' rivals.
The werewolves were merely pawns.
Replacing them would be easy.
Damiel's gaze swept across the room.
"And if anyone notices unusual movement, I want to know immediately."
"Not tomorrow."
"Not hours later."
"Immediately."
"Yes Commander" the whole room responded.
The meeting continued for another hour.
Reports were given.
Maps were adjusted.
Strategies were discussed.
Moonlight seeped through the open window and fell across Damiel's hand resting on the table.
It caught his attention.
It was late.
Time to retire for the night.
Even though he could easily continue.
After all, demons were creatures of the night.
But his men had travelled a long distance, he thought.
They were probably tired.
Even though he knew they had travelled farther distances and gone straight into battle afterward.
It was for the new recruit, he told himself.
Satisfied with the excuse, he nodded slightly.
But deep down, he knew the truth.
He wanted to see the slave girl.
He wondered if she had stubbornly waited for him or gone to sleep.
Where had she decided to sleep?
Had she eaten after he left?
What was she doing now?
The thoughts came uninvited.
As he straightened, he spoke.
"We continue at first light."
The officers stood immediately.
One by one, they bowed before leaving the room.
Soon only Kael, Roan, Zaiel, and Damiel remained.
Kael crossed his arms.
"Do you suspect anyone of something like this?!"
Damiel looked toward the window.
"No", the werewolves were always the ones causing trouble, wanting to rule the realms, but now they are moving alone, and smartly at that.
Damiel remained silent for several seconds.
"But I intend to find out really soon."
They nodded, Damiel will surely find out for sure, they knew that much.
"We should get some rest." Roan said.
Damiel nodded once.
The men left one after another.
Only Zaiel lingered for a moment.
"Your Highness."
Damiel looked toward him.
"The girl..."
Damiel's eyes narrowed slightly.
"What about her?"
Zaiel smiled faintly, as if he already got his answer.
"Nothing."
He bowed.
"Goodnight, Your Highness."
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The corridors were quiet as Damiel returned to his room.
Ancient lanterns burned along the stone walls, casting golden light over tapestries depicting old victories of Avalon.
The fortress itself carried the feeling of history.
Centuries-old stone.
Dark wooden beams.
Carved pillars depicting ancient kings and wars long forgotten by ordinary demons.
It was not as grand as his own castle.
Nor as imposing as King Eldron's palace.
But it had stood for generations.
A fortress built for survival rather than luxury.
Damiel pushed open the door quietly.
The room was illuminated by the dying embers in the fireplace while moonlight poured through the open window.
Reyna sat on the bed with her back resting against the wall, loosely covered by a blanket, fast asleep, a position that tells him she had stubbornly been waiting for him, before she fell asleep.
Strands of hair had fallen across her face.
The moonlight rested gently upon her features.
She looked almost like an angel.
Peaceful.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Watching.
His eyes fell on the empty tray beside the bed.
She had finished everything.
Good.
Then he noticed something else.
His portion of the meal had been carefully covered with cloth to keep it warm.
His gaze lingered there.
She had waited for him, and preserved his portion of the food.
Even after he specifically told her not to.
Annoying woman.
She truly was stubborn.
His lips twitched slightly in a small smile before disappearing almost immediately.
He removed his coat and placed it over the chair.
As he moved closer, Reyna shifted in her sleep.
The blanket slipped from her shoulder.
The room was cold.
Without thinking, Damiel stepped forward, slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, and gently helped her lie down properly on the bed before pulling the blanket over her.
Her face relaxed almost immediately.
His hand froze.
He should move away.
Instead, he found himself standing there longer than necessary.
Studying her sleeping face.
The rise and fall of her breathing.
The loose strands of hair across her cheek.
Why did she affect him like this?
He had commanded armies.
Destroyed enemies.
Faced monsters without hesitation.
Yet somehow this human girl unsettled him more than battle ever had.
Azaelth stirred inside him.
Stay.
Damiel frowned.
"Silence."
You're happier near her.
Happier.
Was that the word?
Happy.
Damiel's jaw tightened.
"Enough."
You know I'm right.
He ignored the demon.
Or at least he tried to.
Eventually, he walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, his back resting on the wall behind him, his eyes lingering on Reyna's face.
Reyna shifted again.
Then unexpectedly—
Her hand moved.
Finding the sleeve of his shirt in her sleep.
Holding onto it lightly.
As though seeking reassurance.
Damiel stared at her hand.
She wasn't awake.
She didn't know what she was doing.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
His expression softened.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Outside, the wind rattled against the windows.
Inside, the room remained quiet.
For the first time in a very long time—
Prince Damiel did not feel the need to leave.
And for reasons he refused to examine too closely—
He stayed exactly where he was until sleep finally found him too.