Reborn, Its Time To Save My Family And.. My Enemy!
Chapter 170: Burn With Her

Chapter 170: Burn With Her

"Would this be all?" Damon signed the last papers and a seal was ready of his name. Duke Histoire used it on the papers, confirmed it and then nodded.

Then he watched Damon as if he was looking at him for the first time.

"Your father never spoke good about you." he started. Damon looked at him with a vored glance. He did not need someone to mock him and insult him. He needed to return before Olivia would entertain another foolish idea.

"But I knew he had been wrong and you would prove it one day." this was not the reply Damon was expecting. Though duke Heistorie and his father were competitors. There was no animosity between both families.

Everyone had supported his face and now they were supporting him because they did not have any choice. They have to bow their head in front of the new power. But no one ever mentioned the past.

He nodded in acceptance but the duke kept staring at him.

"My daughter Amber will marry Prince Elio soon. When the time comes, we will support your marriage with Olivia." he added when Damon did not show any emotion. "You can have that girl without worry, Damon. We are backing you."

".... because you were afraid that she would be a competition for your daughter if she would marry the second prince, duke Heistoire?" Damon raised a brow. His eyes are colder than the dark knight.

The duke had not expected Damon to rub the truth on his face. He laughed softly.

"You are overestimating the girl, Damon. Though she had good skills when it comes to seducing men. She did not have what it takes to be a queen." The voice full of haughtiness felt like a challenge to Damon.

"Suddenly I want Olivia to marry the prince as planned to show you what she is worth, Duke Histoire." he watched as the man;s eyes widened with shock and reveled in it. "But it would not be worth it when she could show you more than that while staying as a duchess." he smirked and under the shocked gaze of the duke, he picked the seal and formal decree before leaving the room.

He had only reached the door when he found Diana standing there. He wanted to curse his luck. The palace was full of rabid dogs and each of them was running to bite him. What cursed luck did he have!

"I apologize princess for breaking your heart. Now if you please excuse me." he walked past her only for her to glare at him.

"Damon Aykroyd. You can not insult me like that." she gritted her teeth but he did not pause.

He only closed his eyes and cursed himself and then the princess.

The knights looked at the duke hesitantly. They knew that if they did not stop Damon, the princess was going to throw a fit. But they did not have the ability to stop him at all.

"Your grace.." they begged. Damon paused and looked at them with understanding. Their hope rose.

"I know you are facing a tough job. If you ever decide to leave her and join a better place, you could come to my manor." he patted their shoulders with sympathy.

Before the princess could reach him, he had started taking long strides again. This time the knights were too stunned to follow him.

They stood there frozen when the princess came to curse them.

"Why are you daydreaming in the broad daylight, you fools! Go and catch him." They wanted to cry but they did not have any choice.

They ran toward the door but Damon had already disappeared.

Damon did not even wait for Shaya or her group. He was sure the woman was strong enough to deal with her issues.

"To the manor." he knocked on the joining window and the carriage started at once. He looked outside with his eyes glowing.

The road to the manor stretched before him in a quiet hush, moonlight spilling over cobblestones as the carriage sped through the woods. Damon sat back, his thoughts already drifting to the warmth of the manor—no, her. To Olivia.

He could already imagine the shock she would have on her face when he would show the decree. The way her presence, unknowingly, pulled him in like a tide he could never resist. For once, the night felt softer. He allowed himself the foolish luxury of peace.

Until the carriage jerked to a halt.

He snapped forward, catching the edge of the window with one hand. The horses neighed in protest, hooves scraping against the stone. Damon’s eyes narrowed as he leaned out the window. Ahead, another black carriage blocked the narrow forest path. Two rows of knights in silver armor stood in formation, weapons sheathed but hands not too far from their hilts.

The insignia on the carriage door gleamed under the moonlight: the sigil of the Northern Duke—a crimson falcon mid-dive, feathers sharpened like blades.

Damon’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

"What now..." he muttered, already opening the door and stepping out into the cold night.

The head knight dismounted and bowed stiffly. "Lord Damon Aykroyd. His Grace, Duke Rhistel of the North, requests an audience. He awaits you in his carriage."

Damon’s jaw clenched. Rhistel. That old vulture never moved without reason—and certainly never in the middle of the night.

"Does he usually hold tea parties in the forest?" Damon asked coldly.

The knight said nothing.

He adjusted the cuffs of his coat, his boots crunching lightly on the gravel as he approached the waiting carriage. When the door opened, he ducked inside, already bracing himself for the worst.

Inside, the carriage was dimly lit by a single lantern swinging from the ceiling. The air smelled of expensive tobacco and something more metallic—blood, perhaps, or something worse.

Duke Rhistel sat across from him, his silver eyes like shards of ice under the hooded shadows of his cloak. The man’s presence filled the cabin, not by size but by sheer force of will.

"You’re making waves, Lord Aykroyd," the duke began, voice like gravel wrapped in velvet. "And waves attract predators."

"I didn’t realize the North had taken such interest in duchies far from their mountains," Damon replied, settling into the seat opposite, one leg crossed over the other, calm but alert. "Or is this another attempt to puppeteer from the shadows?"

The duke smiled, cold and knowing.

"You have sent Oriana to me and now you are surprised that I came finding you?," he said slowly, deliberately, and Damon’s fingers twitched. "Is that all for that girl, Olivia Witherland? The unknown girl from a fallen nobles. Others might see her like that, but I am sure you are smarter."

"I assume you are aware of what she is?" Rhistel asked, the words like poisoned wine. "The blood running through her veins is older than her face showed.. Older than your claim. You’ve caged a storm, boy, not a dove."

"I don’t recall asking for your opinion," Damon said through gritted teeth.

"She’ll burn you," Rhistel warned, gaze glinting like a blade unsheathed. "And everything you’ve built."

Damon leaned closer, his smirk dangerous.

"Then I’ll burn with her—and make sure the world remembers why."

He didn’t wait for a reply. He banged on the carriage wall, and the door opened at once. The night greeted him with a gust of cold wind. He climbed back into his own carriage without looking back, barking, "To the manor. Faster."