The Crown Prince wasted no time when he heard the news. His heart longed to see her. The messenger had told her that the Royal Advisor was fine; it was Amara who was in a critical condition. He just had to see her. He didn't want to leave his warriors at the mercy of the greedy Duke, so he put one his most trusted Generals in charge. He limited the number of reports that his warriors had to present to the Duke.
Duke Trent was not happy with the Prince's decision. He found it insulting. He decided to write a letter to the King about this matter.
Prince Damien left in a few hours. Tracovia didn't need him for now. His warriors had pushed the demons away from their border. They would be fine, he told himself. There was someone he needed to see. He cursed himself for wanting to escape the castle. He cursed himself for his weakness. He should have protected her. He should've allowed Tyhane to handle Tracovia.
He couldn't understand how demons could've breached his castle. He had already made up his mind. He was going to torture those demons. He was going to make them beg for death. He would show them no mercy.
He wished Tracovia wasn't so far. He wouldn't have stopped if it weren't for the exhausted warriors. His Generals had insisted he took along with him a few warriors just in case. They didn't complain as they rode on, skipping their meals. He considered them and suggested they camp for the night.
He couldn't sleep at all. It was just plain torture. He wanted to be with her immediately. He wanted to know if she was alright. He wished he hadn't yelled at her. He wished he hadn't pushed her away. He wished his mother hadn't wiped her memory of him. He smile faintly at the memory of their first meet when he had shared the bond chalice with her. He hadn't known what it was back then. He stared at the sky as he promised the stars that he would cherish her and that he would fulfil his duty toward her.
He told himself that he would stop trying to use his curse to push everyone away.
God, how much he wished she would get better.
The night passed slowly. Under different circumstances, he would've enjoyed it.
His warriors were up before the sun rose. Together, they packed their tents and resumed their travel.
Another day and they reached.
His parents received him at the front gate.
'How are they?' He asked them while he dismounted his horse. His mother's eyes were red and his father looked tired. The King replied, 'Rowan is well. He is unscathed.'
The Prince was glad. He paused before he whispered her name, 'Amara?' They couldn't look him in the eye. His heart cracked, 'Where is she? I need to see her!' He was becoming restless. His woman had to be alright. He wouldn't be able to hold on to his sanity if anything happened to her.
'It's not a good idea, son,' the King held his son's arm to stop him from leaving.
'Father, I need to see her,' the Prince said, restlessly. 'She's in her room?'
His father looked at him carefully before letting go of him and confirmed, 'She's in her room.'
He sprinted toward Amara's room.
Nothing would have prepared him for what he saw. His Amara was on her bed. He almost didn't recognize her. She was pale. There were claw marks on her face. Her arms were bandaged. The rest of her was hidden under a snug blanket. His heart ached. He flinched as he neared her.
Phoebe was taking care of her.
'How is she?' He tried to sound as stoic as he could.
The sorceress looked at him, noticing him for the first time, 'Prince Damien.' She looked at Amara. She felt bad for the Prince. Amara had been injured badly. She had lost too much blood. At first, Phoebe feared Amara wouldn't survive, her wounds were too deep but she managed to keep her alive. 'She's hanging on.'
That's not good enough, he wanted to say but he simply nodded. He sat beside Amara and lovingly placed his hand on hers. A shiver ran down his spine. She was so cold.
'Prince Damien?' Phoebe looked at him. She stood on the other side. the Prince looked at her. He noticed immediately that she was nervous. 'What is it?' He asked.
'This may sound far fetched, but I believe Lady Amara had powers.'
'Powers?'
She nodded, 'We found them because there was a storm outside. An isolated storm. It was conjured. I felt a very strong magic brewing and I wasn't anywhere near her.' She paused, 'Have you seen the site?'
'No,' He shook his head.
'You should. It is shocking.'
He nodded and turned his attention to Amara. She looked so peaceful. He had always found her enchanting. She was a different kind of elegant. Even with her simple clothes, she looked so extravagant. When he had seen her at the party, he remembered how his heart paced. He had to control himself from walking up to her and asking her for a dance. He wished he had. He wished for a chance to hold her close. A chance to redeem himself.
Her voice was so sweet. He loved his name when it was uttered by her.
He longed to hear it.
'How long till she wakes up?'
'A few days. She's recovering faster than expected.'
'Take care of her, Phoebe, please,' He said as he got to his feet, 'I need to see Rowan.'
Phoebe gave him a small smile, 'Of course, Prince Damien.'
He glanced at his woman for once last time before walking out of her room.
Rowan was asleep. Felicia was in his room, sitting next to her. She looked like a mess. She tried to stand up when she saw the Prince. He shook his head, 'There's no need for pleasantries, Felicia. How is Rowan?'
'He's good. He'll wake up in a few hours,' she sniffed. Her voice was hoarse.
'How are you holding up?' He asked her.
'I've been better,' she wiped her tears. 'How about you, Prince Damien?'
He looked away. She knew he had seen Amara's condition. His heart clenched in agony. He couldn't stand it. 'I must go now, Felicia.'
'Of course,' she said, understanding his pain, 'Congratulations on your victory, though I wish it were under better circumstances.'
He couldn't speak. His fear paralyzed him. He nodded and walked swiftly toward the garden where the incident had taken place. It wasn't hard to find it. Tyhane, Jeremiah and his mother were there. He was about to call out for them when his eyes fell on a demon. It wasn't alive. It was charred. Like someone had burned it in less than a moment. It was terrifying. This charred demon made him realize that there was strong magic hanging in the air.
'Prince Damien,' Tyhane bowed his head to respect him. Jeremiah followed suit.
'There's magic here,' his mother stated.
'Phoebe says she's never felt anything like it,' Tyhane said. 'I haven't either. I've seen dead demons but this...'
Jeremiah closely inspected the charred demon statue, 'It would've have scorched all of them but Lady Amara and Sir Rowan were not. Sir Rowan wasn't even injured.'
'Rowan doesn't have any powers. He's not capable of this,' the Queen spoke defending her brother. None of them spoke of the implication. It was so difficult to wrap their head around something so absurd.
'Shalore suspects that Amara has powers,' the Prince tried to sound emotionless. He ignored the wave of pain that hit him when he uttered her name.
'She's spoken so before,' His mother sounded equally distant. This came as a surprise to him. How come he had not heard it? Why wasn't he informed of this? He asked her, 'When was this?'
'Two days-'
He cut Jeremiah off, 'When did Shalore tell you about Amara's powers?'
They didn't look at him. It enraged him. They kept a secret from him. A secret about his woman. Rage consumed like fire does a wick. 'When was it?' He forced the words out through his gritted teeth.
Only the Queen was brave enough to answer him, 'The day you first turned, you headed for Amara's room. She was distressed and you sensed it. You went to protect her. You attacked Jeremiah and Phoebe because you thought they were hurting her. You passed out.'
The Prince's blood ran cold. He knew his beast had some affections for her but he didn't know that he had completely devoted himself to her; his beast had gladly accepted her. It was because of Amara he had turned. His beast had sensed her distress but what could she be distressed about? His hands shook. Amara had countered the curse. It meant she was powerful. Too powerful.
A thought struck him.
It was absurd but it seemed like the truth.