The doors burst open.
Alaric walked in like he owned everything. His eyes swept the room, cataloging faces, measuring threats. When he found Seraphina at the war table, his expression changed completely.
The harsh commander became a loving husband.
"My darling," he said, crossing to her with genuine warmth. "I've missed you so much. Every day without you felt endless."
She stood among maps and battle plans. Duke Gravenor nodded at her supply analysis. Duke Stormholt leaned forward, clearly impressed. Duke Dravenlock watched her with obvious respect.
Single men. Powerful men. Admiring his wife.
Something cold flickered behind Alaric's loving smile.
"Gentlemen," he said, voice warm but carrying new weight. "Hope I'm not interrupting important work."
Seraphina felt Caelan tense through their bond. She met his eyes, willing him to stay calm.
"Lord Vessant," Duke Gravenor stood respectfully. "Perfect timing. Your wife has been brilliant with our coalition strategy."
"Of course she has," Alaric said with genuine pride. His hand settled on her lower back. Possessive beneath the affection. "My wife is extraordinary. Though I worry about her taking on such heavy burdens."
She kept her face neutral. Love wrapped around control. The pattern was clear.
"Darling," he said tenderly, voice carrying to every corner. "You've been working so hard. I worry about you handling such complex military matters."
The concern sounded real. The condescension underneath was subtle but sharp.
He leaned down and kissed her temple. Slow. Tender. Long enough to mark territory.
Duke Stormholt's knuckles whitened on the table. Duke Gravenor cleared his throat twice, trying to break uncomfortable silence.
Caelan's fury hit her through their bond like wildfire. She felt his magic crackling, barely controlled.
This loving version is worse than anger, she realized. Harder to fight without looking like the villain.
Stay calm, she projected desperately.
"Lord Vessant," Caelan said, voice carefully measured. "We weren't expecting additional forces. What brings you here tonight?"
Alaric smiled with warm affection that never reached his eyes. "Protecting my most precious treasure, Duke Vorenthal. Surely you understand a devoted husband's concerns."
His arm tightened around her waist. Not painful, but unmistakably claiming.
"This operation requires specialized demon tactics knowledge," Caelan said. Direct challenge wrapped in professional courtesy. "What's your experience with fortified positions?"
"I have extensive experience protecting what I love," Alaric replied smoothly. "Especially from influences that might not respect proper boundaries."
He cupped Seraphina's face with both hands, thumb stroking her cheek. "You look so tired, my love. Such demanding work for someone with your delicate constitution."
The kiss came next. Deeper. Longer. Public claiming disguised as affection.
Every duke in the room found somewhere else to look.
Seraphina endured it while Caelan's jealous rage burned through their connection. His magic sparked visibly now. The air around him shimmered with barely restrained power.
Control yourself, she begged through their bond.
When Alaric finally released her, Caelan spoke with deadly calm. "Perhaps we should focus on military qualifications rather than domestic displays."
Ice crystallized in every word.
"Military qualifications?" Alaric's laugh held genuine warmth and hidden steel. "Like your recent demon campaign? I heard the casualty reports were quite significant."
"I brought my men home alive. Can you say the same about your last command?"
What command? What casualties? Seraphina cataloged this information for later use.
Duke Dravenlock shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps we should review our operational timeline instead."
But Alaric wasn't finished establishing dominance. His hand found her neck, fingers threading through her hair with tender possessiveness that made her skin crawl.
"My wife's strategic mind is truly remarkable," he said, voice full of loving pride. "So brilliant, though perhaps too trusting of certain military influences."
Another soft kiss. Claiming disguised as devotion.
Stop touching me. The thought burned through her mind like acid.
"Remarkable indeed," Caelan agreed, his voice carrying undertones sharp enough to cut glass. "Though I question whether someone with no actual combat experience should make tactical decisions affecting other commanders' forces."
"Combat experience," Alaric repeated softly, his arm sliding protectively around her shoulders. "You mean like charging into dangerous situations without fully understanding all the risks involved?"
Caelan's magic flared dangerously. Through their bond, his rage was becoming something lethal and unstable.
"Better than sending others to fight battles while staying safely behind protected walls," Caelan shot back.
Direct hit. Alaric's grip on her shifted, still loving but noticeably firmer.
"Careful, Duke Vorenthal. You're discussing my beloved wife's safety. My cherished family's wellbeing. My entire world's protection."
Three possessive claims wrapped in devotion.
The dukes were visibly uncomfortable now. This had moved far beyond professional disagreement into personal territory.
"Clear command structure becomes essential in coalition warfare," Duke Dravenlock said carefully, trying to redirect the conversation.
"Absolutely," Alaric agreed, stroking her arm with obvious affection. "My darling wife will naturally defer to those with proper experience in such dangerous military matters."
The loving condescension hit like a physical blow. Seraphina wanted to set the entire room on fire.
Instead, she smiled with razor precision. "Perhaps I'll let my strategic results speak louder than possession claims."
The words carried honey and poison in equal measure.
Let him think I'm playing along, she thought with calculated coldness. The results will burn louder than his pretty words.
Caelan's magical energy was crackling visibly now. The torches along the walls guttered and flickered. Shadows bent toward him as if drawn by the force of his fury.
Duke Stormholt stared openly. Duke Gravenor had gone very still. Duke Dravenlock looked like he desperately wanted to be anywhere else.
They can see his magic, she realized with growing panic. This is about to explode in front of witnesses.
One wrong word and the dukes would see everything. The bond. The truth. The war raging inside this room.
"Gentlemen," she started quickly, desperate to redirect before someone said something irreversible.
Heavy footsteps thundered in the corridor outside. Multiple sets, moving fast.
Thank every god that ever existed.
A scout burst through the doors, armor mud splattered, face grim with exhaustion and barely controlled fear.
"My lords! My lady!" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "Urgent intelligence from the eastern perimeter forces!"
Every personal tension in the room evaporated instantly. Military instincts overrode everything else.
Finally. Something more important than masculine posturing and territorial claims.
"Report immediately," Duke Gravenor commanded, all traces of discomfort forgotten.
"Massive demon movement detected, sir. They're not just fortifying defensive positions anymore." The scout's voice cracked with urgency. "They're advancing aggressively. Three settlements completely overrun since dawn."
The command center fell into absolute silence.
This is so much worse than we calculated.
"How many settlements confirmed lost?" Seraphina asked, her strategic mind cutting through every other consideration.
"Seven confirmed completely destroyed. Maybe more we haven't reached yet. They're expanding controlled territory by the hour, not by the day." The scout looked directly at her with desperate respect. "Whatever operational window we thought we had for action is closing faster than we can respond."
Duke Stormholt swore with creative vulgarity. Duke Dravenlock was already reaching for detailed maps. Duke Gravenor's expression had transformed into granite determination.
"Immediate timeline assessment?" Caelan demanded, all personal animosity forgotten.
"If we don't move with everything we have right now, sir, by tomorrow night they'll control everything east of the Meridian Pass. Thousands of civilians. All gone."
Alaric's loving grip on Seraphina loosened significantly as the full scope of crisis penetrated his consciousness. His own family holdings lay directly in the demons' projected path.
Now you're finally interested in something besides claiming ownership.
"How immediately are we talking?" Duke Dravenlock asked, spreading maps with practiced efficiency.
The scout met his eyes with the weight of kingdoms balanced on his words. "We march at dawn, my lords."
The silence that followed carried the gravity of absolute necessity.
At dawn, it wouldn't just be demons they faced. It would be truth.
At dawn, war would decide everything. Land. Lives. And which man had the right to stand beside her.