Chapter 150 The Secret Place
Damien
I move to Bella first, and I let my hand settle lightly at the back of her chair. Her gaze lifts to mine immediately, and the room narrows around it.
“You alright?” I ask.
Bella’s mouth twitches. “Define alright.”
Ashlyn snorts. “She’s being bullied by organisation.”
Red taps her charcoal on the paper like a warning. “It’s called planning.”
Bella tilts her head up at me again, “I’m okay,” she says, softer, for me only. “I’m actually okay.”
My chest eases in a way I don’t show.
“Good,” I murmur, and I lean down far enough to press a kiss to her forehead. Bella’s eyes close for a heartbeat, then open again with that steady look that tells me she is okay.
Red clears her throat.
“If you’re done being tender,” she says flatly, “I need you to look at this.”
She pushes the notepad toward me without ceremony. The page is a battlefield of neat charcoal lines and sharp, decisive headings.
VENUES.
GUEST TIERS.
TRADITIONS.
DRESS.
A timeline was underlined so hard it nearly tore the paper. I scan it, taking in what they’ve already planned. Hearthhall. Mountain overlook. A third line, circled, that reads: SECRET PLACE. My mouth curves before I can stop it.
“Secret place,” I repeat.
Bella’s smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “It’s a place for you to decide.”
“I know just the place,” I say.
Bella’s expression softens, and she gives a slight tilt of her head like she’s handing me the choice and trusting me with it. Red drags another sheet of paper toward herself and starts writing again before I even ask.
“If you’re leaving, you need a list,” she says.
“I remember what needs doing,” I reply.
Red doesn’t even blink. “You’re a man.”
I exhale through my nose and let Red write. Her charcoal moves quickly, neat and brutal, her hand sure. She tears the page free when she’s done and slides it across the table to me.
It’s a short, clear list.
BUILD TEAMS.
FOOD STORAGE + FEAST PLANS.
GUEST QUARTERS.
LANTERNS + HEAT BRASIERS.
SECURITY ROTATIONS.
MESSENGERS.
I lift my eyes to her.
“You’re enjoying this,” I say.
Red doesn’t smile. “Someone has to.”
I fold the list carefully and tuck it into the inside of my coat where it won’t be lost. Then I look back down at Bella.
“Are you happy with what’s been decided so far?” I ask because it matters. I want this entire day to be built around her, and I will not let it become something that happens to her instead of something she chooses. Bella glances at the notepad again, at the fabric swatches, at the underlined timeline. Her fingers touch the ring absentmindedly, like she’s still checking that it’s real.
“Yes,” she says, and there’s no hesitation in it. “I want this.”
I nod once. “Good girl.” I kiss her before I straighten. “It looks like I have jobs to delegate,”
Red’s charcoal immediately taps the table like she’s dismissing me from her war room. “Go.”
Ashlyn lifts her hand in a dramatic wave. “Go forth, King. Do not disappoint the bride.”
Bella rolls her eyes, then reaches out and catches my sleeve for a second, fingers curling lightly.
“Don’t let them build something ridiculous,” she murmurs.
I lean down again, close enough that my voice is only for her.
“No castles,” I promise.
Bella’s mouth lifts, quick and grateful. I brush my thumb once over her knuckles, then let her go.
When I step back outside, an elder catches me before I’ve taken five steps. Two others stand with him, waiting and watching.
“Your Grace,” he says, and his gaze flicks past me toward the building Bella is in. His mouth softens slightly. “So it’s true.”
“It’s true,” I answer.
He nods once, accepting. Then his eyes narrow again, practical.
“We need instructions.”
I pull Red’s list from my coat.
“Build teams,” I say. “One for seating, another for lantern lines and heat and for guest quarters.”
The elder’s head tilts. “Guest quarters will be a problem.”
“It won’t,” I say. “Build temporary shelters close to the hearth hall. I want people to sleep safely.”
“And food?” a woman asks as she steps in, flour on her hands. “If half the mountain shows up, we’ll need more storage.”
“Start clearing the storage rooms,” I reply. "Prepare anything that keeps. We’ll set up extra smoke racks and extra hearths if needed.”
She nods sharply, already turning.
“Security,” the elder says next.
I keep my voice calm. “Rotations, and eyes on the perimeter, and we keep weapons out of the feast unless needed. This is a celebration. We don’t turn it into a fortress.”
The elder inclines his head.
“As you command.”
I point to a pair of younger men lingering near a timber stack.
“You two,” I call.
They straighten immediately.
“Lantern lines,” I say. “Start today. Mark where you’ll hang them. Make sure the hooks are strong enough to hold through the wind.”
They nod and run.
As the orders ripple outward, I step away from the centre of it all and walk toward the path that leads up the slope. Toward the place Bella doesn’t know about yet. The secret place. This place has been mine for years. A stretch of mountain tucked behind a wall of old trees. A hollow where the wind softens, and the world goes quiet. I’ve stood here alone more times than I can count, letting the mountain swallow my anger, my grief, my thoughts I could not say aloud. When I reach it, the trees part, and the view opens wide. The valley below is a sweep of green grass and dark timber roofs, smoke rising in thin lines. Beyond it, the mountains roll out in layers, pale and endless, the sky wide above them, the light thinning toward dusk. The ground here is flat enough for a gathering. Some stones could be cleared, a natural curve that could cradle rows of people without crowding. I stand still, imagining it. Lanterns strung between trees, soft gold against dark bark. Heat braziers spaced carefully—a path lined with pine and ribbon. Bella walking into the open air with frost under her shoes and the sky above her like a roof made of stars. The idea settles in my chest. This is where I will marry her.