Dawn broke over a war camp that had transformed overnight.
Three armies moved with practiced efficiency. Horses stamped and snorted. Metal clinked against metal. Orders echoed across the fields as commanders organized their forces.
Seraphina stood beside her horse, checking supplies one final time. The strategic maps were secured in her saddlebags. Communication protocols established. Every detail managed.
Then Alaric appeared at her side.
"My darling wife," he said, loud enough for nearby soldiers to hear. "You look radiant this morning."
His arm slid around her waist. Possessive. Claiming her in front of the troops.
She kept her expression neutral while rage burned beneath the surface.
"The men need to see their duchess is protected," he continued, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Cared for by her devoted husband."
More territory marking. More public ownership displays.
Caelan watched from across the camp, his jaw locked tight. Even at distance, she felt his fury through their bond.
"Of course," she replied sweetly. "Though I should coordinate with the other commanders before we move out."
"Naturally." Alaric's smile was warm and sharp. "I'll stay close to ensure your safety."
Translation: I'm monitoring every interaction you have.
The armies began moving as the sun climbed higher. Alaric positioned himself prominently beside her during the march. His horse stayed close enough that his leg occasionally brushed hers.
"Duke Gravenor's cavalry looks impressive," he commented, but his eyes were on her face. "You seem to have earned his respect quickly."
Fishing for information wrapped in casual observation.
"Professional courtesy," she replied. "Nothing more."
But Alaric's gaze lingered on Gravenor's position at the head of his column. Something was making him suspicious.
The first demon contact came at midday.
Scouts reported fortified positions ahead. Behind crude stakes, the demons crouched like gargoyles come to life. Gray skin, black talons, weapons that looked scavenged from a dozen battlefields. Ugly, effective, patient as death.
"Simple flanking maneuver," Duke Stormholt announced. "Cavalry takes the left, infantry pushes center."
Duke Dravenlock coordinated supply lines from his position, ensuring the medical teams stayed positioned for quick access to wounded. His methodical approach balanced the more aggressive tactics of his fellow commanders.
The five dukes had positioned their forces across the battlefield. Gravenor's cavalry, Stormholt's infantry, Caelan's center command, Dravenlock's support coordination, and Alaric's personal guard units all moved with practiced military precision.
Caelan positioned his forces for the center push, but his attention kept drifting to where Seraphina sat her horse near the command position. Through their bond, she felt his protective instincts warring with tactical necessity.
Alaric moved his horse closer to hers. "Perhaps you should stay back during the engagement, darling. For safety."
"I need to coordinate communications," she said firmly.
"I'll handle that." His tone brooked no argument. "Your husband's duty is protecting you."
Through their bond, Seraphina felt Caelan's surge of irritation at Alaric's possessive claim.
The battle began with Gravenor's cavalry charge. Horses thundered across the field, lances lowered. The sound was like rolling thunder, hooves pounding earth into dust clouds.
The first line of demons met them with raised spears. Metal crashed against metal. Horses screamed as spear points found flesh. Men shouted war cries that turned to screams of pain.
Stormholt's infantry followed close behind. Shields locked together, they advanced in formation. Caelan led the charge himself, his sword cutting through demon ranks with brutal efficiency.
But even while fighting, Seraphina felt his attention split between combat and monitoring her position.
A demon's axe nearly took his head off while he glanced toward the command area.
Focus, she projected through their bond desperately. I'm safe.
His response carried frustration and fear. You're never safe when I can't protect you directly.
What followed was a massacre disguised as tactical combat. Caelan tore through demons like a man possessed, his blade moving faster than human reflexes should allow. He wasn't fighting anymore—he was unraveling. Limbs, blood, screams. The demons never stood a chance.
A demon tried to surrender. Caelan drove his sword through its chest anyway.
"Christ almighty," muttered one of Stormholt's veterans, pausing to watch Caelan hack a demon into pieces that were already very dead. "What's gotten into Duke Vorenthal?"
His companion wiped blood from his face and shrugged. "Maybe he skipped breakfast. My wife gets murderous when she's hungry too."
"That ain't hunger, mate. That's a man with woman troubles."
"How'd you figure?"
"Look where his eyes keep going." The veteran nodded toward the command position where Seraphina sat her horse. "Every time he glances that way, another demon loses more pieces than necessary."
"Poor bastards," the second soldier said, almost sympathetically watching Caelan decapitate a demon that was already missing both arms. "Wrong place, wrong time, wrong species."
The field shifted. Fire erupted where no mage should have been able to cast. Coordinated strikes that spoke of intelligence and careful planning.
"We need to secure the right flank," Duke Stormholt called out, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. "They're trying to circle around."
Alaric immediately took charge. "I'll handle the right side with my men. Keep the center line stable."
He spurred his horse toward the threatened flank, his personal guard following. Steel rang against steel as they crashed into the demon line trying to outflank their position.
With Alaric occupied on the opposite side of the battlefield, Seraphina had freedom to move.
Gravenor's cavalry charge had carried them beyond a ridge where the fighting grew more desperate. Reports came back that they'd hit unexpected resistance.
"The cavalry's been cut off," a messenger reported. "Can't establish contact."
Seraphina used the confusion as cover. She moved toward the ridge where Gravenor's forces had disappeared.
She found him trapped in a depression beyond the hillcrest. His horse lay dying beside him, three spear wounds in its chest still pumping blood onto the torn earth. Demons surrounded him in a circle, taking their time, playing with prey they knew couldn't escape.
Gravenor's sword arm was cut deep, blood soaking his sleeve. His left leg was trapped under his horse's weight. But his blade still moved with deadly precision, keeping the demons at bay through skill and desperation.
One demon raised a spiked mace for a killing blow.
Seraphina spurred her horse down the slope. There was no time for subtlety, no way to intervene from a distance. She drew her sword and rode straight into the circle of demons.
Her blade took the first demon across the throat before it could react. Dark blood sprayed across her face and armor.
But three more turned toward her, snarling. One swung a massive axe at her horse's legs. She barely managed to leap free as her mount went down screaming.
Now she stood in the circle with Gravenor, surrounded by demons closing in from all sides.
A demon lunged at her with claws extended. She sidestepped, but another came from behind. Its club whistled toward her head.
She had no choice.
Power erupted from her like a volcano unleashed. Flames roared outward in a perfect circle, incinerating everything within ten feet. The demons didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to ash.
The fire was precise, controlled, deadly. It consumed only what she willed it to consume. The grass beneath her feet remained untouched while the demons burned to nothing.
Gravenor stared at her through the settling ash, his eyes wide with shock and understanding.
There was no hiding what he'd witnessed. No explaining it away as battlefield luck or triggered wards. He'd watched her channel raw magical power at point-blank range.
She stood in the center of the circle where demons had been, not a mark on her from flames that should have consumed everything.
"You're a mage," he said quietly. Not a question. A statement of absolute certainty.
She met his gaze steadily. "I'm many things you don't know about."
"That level of control, that precision..." He shook his head in amazement. "You're not just a mage. You're powerful enough to be dangerous to anyone who might threaten you."
"Including husbands who think they own their wives?"
Understanding passed between them like a current of electricity.
"You have my sword and my silence," he said simply. "But when the time comes for truth, I want to understand who I'm really serving."
"Then trust me until I can show you why this secrecy matters," she said. "When the time comes, you'll understand everything."
Gravenor nodded once. "A life debt demands that trust. You have it."
They returned to the main force as if nothing significant had passed between them. Just a commander checking on his coordinator after a successful engagement.
But everything had changed.
Alaric was waiting when she rejoined the command group. His eyes moved between her and Gravenor with new calculation.
"You seemed concerned about Duke Gravenor's safety," he observed.
"Professional responsibility," she replied. "We need all our commanders functional."
But his suspicion was growing. She could see it in the way he watched her interactions with the other dukes. The way his hand found her back more frequently. The way his kisses became more territorial.
He sensed something had shifted. He just didn't know what.
The second wave came an hour later with lessons learned from the first engagement.
These demons moved differently. Smarter. They used shields to block sword strikes and coordinated their attacks to exploit gaps in human formations.
Caelan was in the thick of it, his sword work deadly and precise. But through their bond, Seraphina felt his constant awareness of her position. His magic sparked with protective instincts that threatened to break his cover.
A soldier beside her went down with a spear through his chest. His scream cut off abruptly as blood filled his lungs. Another man lost his sword arm to a demon's axe, the limb spinning through the air in a spray of red.
She felt Caelan's surge of panic through their connection as he saw her danger. His magic flared visibly for a moment before he forced it under control.
Stay where you are, she projected firmly. Don't compromise yourself.
Through the chaos of clashing weapons and dying men, she saw both Caelan and Alaric fighting separate battles.
Caelan moved like controlled lightning, but his attention kept splitting between his opponents and her position. A demon's club nearly crushed his shoulder while he was watching her instead of focusing on his immediate threat.
Alaric was fighting three demons at once, his blade work clean and efficient. No wasted motion. Each strike either killed or disabled. His sword took one demon's head clean off, the body collapsing in a fountain of dark blood.
But both men had gotten separated from their forces, caught in different parts of the chaotic battlefield.
A demon's spiked club caught Alaric in the ribs with a wet crack of breaking bone. He staggered, sword dropping as he clutched his side. Dark spots of blood appeared on his surcoat where the spikes had punched through mail.
He went down hard, legs pinned under the debris from a shattered supply wagon. The wooden wheel trapped his thighs against the ground. He struggled to free himself, but the weight was too much with his injuries.
More demons spotted him struggling in the wreckage. Five of them, moving with the focused intent of predators who'd found wounded prey.
They approached slowly, savoring the moment. Their weapons dripped with the blood of other fallen soldiers.
Seraphina watched from her position, memories flooding back with crystal clarity.
Finally. After what you did to me. After you watched me burn.
Smoke. Screams. My own voice breaking until nothing came out. The smell of burning silk, the weight of chains around my wrists. His face, cold as stone. He let me burn.
You killed me once. You had me executed and felt nothing.
The demons raised their weapons for the killing strikes. Their crude blades caught the afternoon light as they prepared to end him.
You burned me alive and showed no mercy. Now it's your turn.
She remembered the taste of ash in her mouth. The way her vision had dimmed as fire consumed everything she'd been.
Let them give you the death you gave me. Let them show you the same mercy you showed when you lit that pyre.
The demons brought their weapons down toward Alaric's unprotected body.