The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 224: War camps.

Chapter 224: War camps.

After finishing the meal, Elaika folded her arms across her chest. "You’re a good cook," she admitted, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a reluctant admiration.

Gloria’s brows shot up in mock surprise. She placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "Oh? Did Elaika just give someone a compliment?" she teased, grinning.

Elaika rolled her eyes and leaned forward, her voice sharpening. " You got bold! Tell me what you meant about my mate."

Gloria giggled, brushing a crumb from her lap. "I never said anything about your mate."

Elaika gave her a flat, unreadable look. "Then why are you here?"

With a sigh, Gloria leaned back and tapped her stomach with a satisfied thump. "Alright, you got me. It is about your mate. And that’s why you’re avoiding the shifters’ camp, isn’t it?"

Elaika pouted, her expression a blend of frustration and reluctant acceptance. So Gloria had figured it out through that ridiculous beast bond. She hadn’t come here by chance, she came to confirm what she already suspected.

"Don’t be silly, Gloria."

"You know it. I was right. That is, Alpha Xander," Gloria proclaimed, her voice firmer now. "He’s your mate. And you’re just... dodging fate. You’re unbelievable. You’ve known since you first arrived in Ice Land, and you’ve been running from him ever since."

There was no anger in her voice, but disappointment weighed her words. Among shifters, finding one’s mate was a sacred gift, especially for the young ones. And Elaika, still considered a young werewolf, was wasting her and his chance.

"So what? Now you know? Nothing’s going to change," Elaika snapped, her voice flat but brittle, like a wall hastily built to hold back something heavier. She wasn’t happy, just feigned to be ignorant because she felt guilty.

Gloria’s mouth parted in disbelief. How could this goddess of lust resist the pull of her fated mate? The bond should have been unbearable to ignore, raw, magnetic, inescapable. If Elaika kept denying it, it could start to fracture her from within.

"Elaika! Are you taking elixirs or magical potions to suppress your desire?" Gloria demanded.

Without waiting for an answer, she sprang to her feet, nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air sharply. Ever since the king had forced her into a blood bond with Sunkiath, her senses had heightened to unnatural levels. The power of The Spike now flowed through her veins, wild, ancient, and strange. It had changed her in unexpected ways: her skin hummed with energy, and her breath could wake seeds to bloom. Plants had begun to sprout beneath her fingertips, and her instincts whispered secrets too deep for ordinary ears. She didn’t know what it was yet. But all she discovered was: that immortal weapon could give and take life all at once.

Her gaze landed on a leather bag tossed carelessly near Elaika’s bed. Something was hidden there.

Elaika didn’t stop her. Not at first.

Gloria knelt and rummaged through the bag until her fingers closed around a wooden box, its scent heavy with old herbs, charm-binding oils, and magic. The moment she opened it and saw the row of sealed potions, Elaika rose slowly, almost lazily, and snatched the box from her hands.

"You’re prying into my life, you nosy bitch," she growled, her voice low and edged with threat, the beast inside her brushing against her skin.

"Elaika, are you mad? Using these potions?!" Gloria’s voice trembled with fury and disbelief. "You’re consuming magic to suppress your emotions, so he won’t sense the bond. That’s cruel. It’s his right to know, to choose!"

Elaika’s eyes flared. "None of your fucking business, maid! Get the hell out."

But Gloria didn’t even flinch. The dragon’s power inside her, the blood bond with Sunkiath, had changed her. It gave her courage that burned hot beneath her skin, like embers under ice. Still, the magic had its toll. The roots of her hair had begun to pale, from the fiery red they were turning silvery-white like moonlit ash.

She stood her ground, lifting her chin. "Mates grow stronger together. If you die in battle, he’ll feel it, he’ll break. That kind of sorrow doesn’t just hurt, it kills. It’s a weakness or worse a distraction on the battlefield. You could get him killed, Elaika. Use your brain. Tell him."

Gloria moved to the table, her hands steady as she gathered the bowls and placed them on the tray. But her voice remained sharp and unwavering.

"If you tell him," Elaika said coldly, "I will kill you."

Gloria scowled, the pain behind her eyes flickering just briefly. "I won’t tell him. But how can you be this cruel?"

She turned on her heel and exited the tent without another word, dragging in a deep breath as the cold air hit her face. This stupid, reckless shifter, she thought bitterly. She’s going to break her own fate just to feel in control. Bitch, you are berserk either way.

Gloria marched toward the kitchen tent, her boots crunching softly against the frost-laced ground. She handed the tray over to a waiting soldier, jaw tight, her heart simmering with frustration and pity.

Since her arrival with the king, Gloria had earned the respect of many, especially the elite soldiers of House Qowen and their chief, her youngest uncle. They didn’t just see her as a girl accompanying royalty. They saw her as one of their own. The king had been training her personally, pushing her harder than most, as if forging her into something sharper, something stronger, a future Queen. Her palms had grown callused from swordwork and discipline, but she didn’t complain. She had always known how to work hard.

As she turned to head back to her tent, a voice called out behind her, bright and familiar, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

"Hello, Princess!"

She froze.

Slowly, she turned toward the voice, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.

"Rail..." she breathed, barely more than a whisper.

He smiled and strode toward her with the same ease and warmth she remembered. "Yes. Sigaros and I are here for a few days."

Every instinct told her to throw her arms around him, to cry against his chest, to let him feel how much she’d missed him. But she stopped herself. She remembered the king’s warning: a crown princess must guard her heart in public. Love made people glow, and glowing things attracted predators.

So she smiled, carefully composed, and stood her ground, even though her heart ached to move.

Gloria’s gaze drifted, sharply and instinctively, to Minister Karon. His eyes were always haunting her. Always inspecting her, looking for a flaw to hunt her down.

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