Her door… I finally arrived.
We are back… I feel horrible.
"Michael, Chris, take the two to the dungeon. Tarek, get him to the palace doctor," she said, handing him the survivor.
"You can then go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day. I'll leave first."
I went to my room, took a quick shower, dried my hair with my wind, then stood in front of the mirror and was about to disinfect my wound.
Bang.
Sigh. I don't even have to look to know who it is—the all-mighty king.
He stood behind me, watching me through the mirror. In the dark room, his red eyes shone brightly, making him look like a terrifying predator.
She is here… I can finally smell her. She looks beautiful—this time not in her usual pajamas. She has long, light nightgowns, still black. Sniff. Frown. Blood. I smell blood.
I stepped behind her and watched her through the mirror. She gave me a brief glance, then completely ignored me and continued what she was doing before I came in.
Frown. How can she be this heartless? Am I really the only one who suffered these past three weeks?
I picked up the hairbrush and slowly brushed her long, shiny black hair. She didn't react. She applied ointment to the cut on the side of her forehead and reached for a plaster but struggled to remove the plastic covering.
I turned her around so she was facing me. I took the plaster, opened it, and carefully placed it over her wound.
He took her chin between his fingers and gently lifted it, forcing her to meet his gaze.
Stare.
"How did you get hurt?"
Sigh.
"I'm the commander. It's normal to fight—and sometimes even get hurt or die. We'll be going to war very soon. Do you expect me to come back wearing a clean dress and carrying a basket of flowers?"
"Frowns. Celea…"
She frowned, then quickly composed herself.
Sigh.
She touched the hand holding her chin and pushed it away. She stood up from the chair, walked to the bed, and pulled the blanket over herself.
"Look, whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow. Good night, King."
The king climbed onto the bed beside her.
Celea turned to face him. They were now lying face to face.
Sigh.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Smiles innocently. "Going to sleep, of course." Smirks. "Or would you rather do something else?"
Silence.
"Celea… you really fell asleep?"
Haha. Claus chuckled softly and began caressing her face, her hair, her neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her closer, and rested his chin on top of her head.
"Just what are you doing to me…?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Michael, you're coming with me to the council meeting. Bring the clues we found."
"Yes, Commander."
"Commander… thank you for last time, but why did you take that dagger for me? I have healing abilities—you don't. You could've died…"
"I wouldn't have died. I knew my mask would act as a shield. But if that dagger had hit you, you would've died before healing—it was made out of dragon bone and has demonic influence . And the reason I did it is simple: we are comrades. That's what comrades do. I told you on your first day—being a knight isn't only about skill, but also about mindset."
Michael could do nothing but admire his commander.
"Now let's go."
"Yes."
I stayed awake all night, making sure she was still alive. She didn't move once—she stayed in the same position she fell asleep in, like a corpse. The moment I finally closed my eyes, she left as if I had never been there.
The king was frustrated.
Bang.
She's finally here—but why did she bring that man with her?
Shock. The council members were stunned to see her face for the first time.
She gave them a small smile.
"You're drooling. It's disgusting."
Hm-hm. They cleared their throats.
"If you're done admiring me, I'd like to talk about what happened to the village."
"You found something?" one man asked.
"Michael."
Michael placed the plastic bag on the table for the council to examine.
"These are dragon scales."
"The village was burned to ashes."
"I knew we couldn't trust those flying snakes."
"Watch your words, or I'll make sure you'll never speak again," Celea said, fixing him with a deadly glare.
Clenches teeth. Dragons again…
"Someone wanted us to misunderstand the situation and blame the dragons."
"Why would someone want that?"
"Simple. They want to create conflict between lycans and dragons."
"And why?"
"Lycans and dragons are powerful on their own. Together, they're unstoppable. Other species would naturally feel threatened."
"Do you have any idea who might be behind this?"
"Demons."
"DEMONS?! How do you know?"
"We found a survivor—someone who can ruin their plan. That's why they tried to kill him. They're in the dungeon right now."
"Can you prove the dragons had nothing to do with this?" I asked, drawing everyone's attention.
"Yes."
She removed the scales from the bag and held them up.
"There are three important things to know about dragon scales."
"First, the color. No matter a dragon's original color, its scales turn purple three months after falling and continue to darken. These are lilac, which means they fell over three months ago."
"Second, dragons don't shed scales unless it's summer—which ended two months ago."
"And third, the quantity. The village was covered in scales, but a dragon cannot lose that many in a single day."
"You seem to know a lot about dragons, Celea," I said, catching everyone's attention again. "Is it because you're intelligent—or because you're close to them?"
She stared at me with her usual expressionless face.
"Well, King, to answer your question—it's both."
Clenches teeth.
"But how do you know this is the devil's work?"
"At first it was a guess. But the demons who tried to kill the survivor planned to use this."