Chapter 84 The Woman in Red.
Damien
After a few minutes, I realise the fog does not follow us. It ends as abruptly as it began, thinning into nothing beneath the open sky as though the forest has simply decided it has taken enough. One moment, the air is thick and wrong, clawing at lungs and senses alike, and the next, it is clean, but I have no doubt that if we were to cross that invisible line again, it would all come hurling back down upon us. I don’t dare let my guard down.
“Sit,” I order immediately, my voice carrying without strain. “Everyone, sit where you are. Do not wander.”
They obey without question. My soldiers fold to the ground in uneven lines, some dropping heavily, others sinking more carefully as though unsure their legs will hold them. A few press palms to the earth, breathing hard, eyes wide and unfocused. Others bow their heads, forearms braced against their knees as they ride out the last shuddering waves of whatever poison still lingers in their blood. I move among them, counting heads without appearing to. Alive. Breathing. Whole. That is what matters.
“Water,” I say, snapping my fingers once. “Small sips. Don’t rush it.”
Canteens are passed down the line. I take one myself and tilt it toward the nearest soldier, holding it steady while he drinks with shaking hands. Another retches into the undergrowth, dry and heaving, and I wait until he’s finished before clapping a firm hand on his shoulder.
“You’re through,” I tell him quietly. “It can’t touch you now.”
Whether that’s true or not, he believes me. That matters. Keeping a strong mind is very important in these situations.
Behind me, Bella sits with Ashlyn at her side, knees drawn up, her breathing still uneven but slowing. I don’t hover and I don’t crowd her, because I don’t need to. The dragon has left the line between us open and I can hear him comforting her. Breathe, Snowflake, he murmurs gently through the bond. Slow. In. Out. The sound of his purr hums faintly in my chest, deep and resonant, a vibration of pure reassurance that does not belong to a battlefield beast or a king. It belongs to her. I watch as Bella’s shoulders ease fraction by fraction, the tension bleeding from her frame as the purr wraps around her like warmth. Her eyes flutter closed. Her jaw unclenches. Even her hands, still knotted tightly in Ashlyn’s sleeve, loosen their grip. Something in my chest shifts into a deep sense of pride. It's a profound satisfaction in knowing that a part of my soul can do that for her. That the beast so many fear is capable of gentleness so complete it can pull her back from the edge of her own mind. The dragon preens shamelessly.
She is precious, he rumbles just to me.
I know, I answer, and for once, there is no tension between us over it.
I straighten and turn back to my people.
“Listen to me,” I say, pitching my voice to carry without cutting. “Whatever that fog was, it was not natural, and I believe it will not be the last hazard in these woods.”
A few heads lift and fear flickers in their expressions, contained, but present.
“We will not push forward,” I continue. “Not today. We find our way back to clear ground, make camp early, and we rest. No heroics and no wandering.” I meet their eyes as I speak—one by one. “I don’t care how close you think we are to our destination. Exhaustion makes prey of even the strongest.” A murmur of agreement ripples through the line. “Once everyone is steady, we find our way out the other side of this and back on track, keeping our steps cautious.”
The dragon shifts, attentive but then —
There is movement, fast and uncontrolled. I turn just as a figure stumbles out of the treeline behind us, bursting through the space where the fog still clings low to the ground. She’s breathing hard, boots skidding as she catches herself on a tree trunk, shoulders heaving beneath a travel-worn cloak the colour of fresh, red blood. Her hood is thrown back, dark hair plastered to her temples with sweat, eyes blown wide as she takes us in — armed soldiers, dragon-marked king, frost-bright woman seated at the centre of it all. She doesn’t hesitate, clearly having overheard me speaking.
“If I were you,” she pants, straightening just enough to point a shaking finger back toward the woods, “I would get as far away from this place as possible.”
The forest behind her rustles in an unsettling way, as if it is upset by the statement.
“There are creatures in there,” she continues, voice tight and urgent, “that will eat you alive if you don’t know what to expect. And judging by your faces—” her gaze flicks briefly to Bella, to the lingering shock in my soldiers — “you don’t.”
I step forward, placing myself subtly between her and my people.
“What kind of creatures?” I ask calmly.
Her laugh is sharp. Hysterical. “The kind that don’t show themselves until it’s too late.”
The dragon stirs, displeased. She smells of fear and truth, he says.
I hold her gaze, measuring her. She’s young. Travel-hardened. Not lying. Not entirely sane — but that’s not uncommon in places like this.
“You came through the fog,” I say.
She nods once. “Barely.”
"And lived.”
“Luck,” she snaps. “And knowing when to run.”
I glance back at my people, at Bella, now watching us with clearer eyes and Ashlyn braced protectively at her side. Then back to the woman in red.
“You’re welcome to sit,” I say. “Drink water. Breathe.”
She hesitates, then sinks down hard onto a fallen log, still watching the treeline like it might lunge at any second. She has good instincts.
“Thank you,” she mutters, then adds under her breath, “You should really listen to me.”
“I am,” I reply.
Because whatever lives in those woods—It just showed its teeth. And I don't appreciate anyone or anything baring its teeth in the direction of my mate.