"Your Highness, are you certain you're alright?" Callista inquired as they walked back to the camp where they would spend the night.
Studying Solenne, the princess appeared… pleased. "Did you enjoy your bath?"
"More than I expected," Solenne mused, the corner of her mouth curling faintly. "The river was cold, but I felt refreshed after a long dip."
"I'm glad that helped you, Your Highness."
If Solenne was happy, Callista would be twice as much. She couldn't help glancing at the princess again, a small sigh of relief slipping past her lips.
They had been traveling for several days now, and Callista had expected the worst—tears, complaints, and fits of exhaustion. But to her surprise, Solenne never once uttered a complaint. In fact, the princess seemed to grow calmer and lighter with every passing day. Even now, she smiled so genuinely, as though something as simple as a bath had washed away her burdens.
Had Callista known why Solenne was smiling…
'Three lifetimes…' Solenne thought, unaware of her attendant's curiosity. '…and in none of those lives did I ever succeed in seducing them.'
Back in Aethera, Solenne's beauty had been praised by nobles and peasants alike. She had been the jewel of the court, envied by women and admired by men. But here in the North, among the wolves, her beauty was nothing but a flaw. No one said it aloud, but the looks in their eyes—disgust, disdain, distance—were enough to carve the truth into her heart.
None of her husbands had ever desired her. Not even out of duty.
'I suppose seduction was never an option,' she thought bitterly. 'But pretending not to know who he truly is… that's working better than I expected.'
Her father (King Jaro) had always dragged her into strategy meetings and war councils, and even though she had been little more than a silent observer, she had learned one thing well: victory required patience.
This was war.
The moment she left Aethera—no, the moment she woke up in this fourth life—the battle had already begun. And this time, she intended to win.
"Your Highness."
Solenne blinked and turned to Callista, who smiled softly, tilting her head.
"You seemed a little distracted," Callista noted. "Once we arrive, I'll prepare your meal right away."
"Mhm." Solenne smiled back politely and continued walking. As they reached the camp, she greeted the men standing guard, offering each a faint smile even when most barely acknowledged her.
*****
Once her meal was served, Solenne ate quietly, finishing every crumb with practiced grace. It wasn't because she enjoyed the food, nor because she was hungry. She forced it down deliberately—a quiet ritual of survival.
Afterward, she retired to her tent. Callista remained nearby, fussing over small details, ensuring the princess would be comfortable through the night.
Solenne sat still for a while before approaching the tent's entrance. Parting the curtain slightly, she peeked out.
"Callista, has everyone gone to sleep?" she asked softly. "It seems awfully quiet outside."
Callista smiled as she arranged the bedding. "I was told the men would be running as a pack tonight," she explained. "Traveling slowly these past few days has apparently built up tension in their bodies. Running helps them release that energy and clear their minds."
"Oh," Solenne murmured, nodding in understanding before biting her lower lip. "Was that… my fault?"
"Not at all, Your Highness." Callista chuckled lightly. "They agreed to slow down for your comfort."
Solenne's brows lifted slightly. 'I doubt that,' she thought, though she kept her expression calm.
Once Callista finished, Solenne lay back on her bed while her attendant blew out the lamp and quietly left for her tent next door.
Darkness enveloped the princess's tent, save for the faint orange glow of the distant bonfire outside. The air smelled faintly of smoke and pine resin. She could hear the soft chirping of crickets blending with the rustle of leaves and the low creak of burning wood.
Then came a long, distant howl.
It carried through the night, deep and mournful, threading through the air like a call from the wild.
Solenne turned her head toward the entrance of her tent, heart quickening. She sat up slowly, stretching her neck as her hand brushed the back of it.
"I can't fall asleep," she muttered under her breath. Her fingers brushed aside the curtain. "Did all of them leave?"
She wasn't surprised by the silence. The werewolves often ran under the moon, their instincts demanding release. It was natural. Still, a peculiar emptiness settled over the camp.
Stepping out, she flinched when a twig snapped beneath her foot. The sound was small, but it felt deafening in the quiet.
A cold breeze swept through, tousling her hair as another howl echoed from afar. Her breath trembled. Even knowing the cries belonged to her escorts, there was something chilling about them—a primal reminder of how different these men were.
Just as she turned to go back inside, a faint neigh broke the stillness.
Her brows furrowed. "The horses?" she whispered.
"They wouldn't be back so soon, right?" she murmured. The howls had faded into the distance; the camp was nearly deserted.
Her lips curved.
A minute later, she was back in her tent, clutching a small cloth pouch. Tiptoeing like a thief, she slipped into the night and made her way toward the makeshift stables.
The moonlight traced her figure as she crept between the tents, the soft rustle of her gown brushing against the grass.
What she didn't realize was that, just as she disappeared into the shadows, Damien stepped out of the tent near hers. His sharp eyes narrowed the moment he saw her sneaking off.
'What is she planning now?' he wondered, his instincts prickling. He caught the faint scent of dried meat from the pouch she carried so carefully.
Moving like a ghost, Damien followed.
He stopped several paces behind her once she reached the stables. There, she looked around cautiously before taking out a few pieces of meat. The horses whinnied softly as she held them out, feeding each one in turn.
A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Her face lit up as she petted the animals, whispering something only they could hear. For a brief moment, the cruel night seemed softer around her.
Then he realized he was smiling. His amusement vanished instantly, replaced by a flicker of irritation.
'What am I thinking?' he scolded himself, eyes narrowing again.
Solenne's delicate hands brushed against a horse's mane as she murmured softly, her voice gentle, soothing. Watching her stirred something unfamiliar in him—something buried, something he didn't like.
But before he could stop himself, he stepped forward. His shadow stretched across the ground.
"Do you truly wish to learn how to ride?"
Solenne froze. The deep, low voice rolled through the air like a rumble of thunder.
Slowly, she turned. Her breath stopped in her throat when she saw Damien standing there, his tall frame half-shadowed by the moonlight. His eyes glowed faintly red, an omen and a warning all at once.
He walked closer, each step deliberate. The air seemed to tighten between them as he stopped just short of touching her.
He bent slightly, lowering himself to meet her gaze. His voice was quiet but edged with danger.
"I could teach you, Your Highness," he murmured, his breath brushing her skin. "But…"
His lips curved into a faint, almost cruel smile.
"…what will you give me in return?"
The night stilled for a moment. Even the horses seemed to sense the shift in the air. Her pulse quickened—steady, sharp, and loud in her ears.
Under the moonlight, his eyes gleamed like blood.
And Solenne, despite herself, smiled back.