Damon sat completely still in his wheelchair.
He listened to her entire ntal confession. He listened to her admit that she had killed the assassin. He listened to her correctly guess that Ida had sent the man. And he listened to her dark, twisted laughter about Ida’s death.
Damon slowly turned his head away from Camilla. He looked back at Kade. His face was a mask of cold, unreadable stone. He did not show a single hint of surprise.
"Don’t worry," Damon told Kade. His voice was calm and flat. "Do not waste your n on a dead rat."
Kade looked slightly confused. "But My Lord, an assassin breached our walls..."
Damon raised his hand to stop his aide from speaking. "I know who did it," Damon said smoothly. He did not want Kade investigating Camilla. He did not want his n trying to arrest his own wife for murder, especially when she had only killed an enemy spy in self-defense.
"Let it slide," Damon ordered firmly. "Tell the guards to throw the body in the forest with the other trash. I do not want to hear another word about it today. And tighten the security around the mansion. Make sure the safety of this place is improved."
"Yes, General," Kade replied quickly, accepting the order without question.
Camilla, who was listening closely, looked down at Damon with pure, absolute shock.
Her eyes were wide open. Her delicate eyebrows pulled together in deep confusion.
"What?" Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was completely baffled. " Just like that?"
She stared at the back of Damon’s head. "He is totally unpredictable!" she thought wildly. "An assassin is found dead under his own roof, and he is just letting the person go? Without a single question? Without investigating the cause and looking for suspects or even torturing a soone?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, analyzing his strange behavior.
"Is it because he knows it was Ida who sent the man?" Camilla wondered internally. "Maybe he thinks Ida killed the assassin to tie up loose ends before she died? Yes, that must be it. His military brain is making completely wrong assumptions."
Camilla let her arms drop to her sides. She relaxed her shoulders.
"Well, I do not care," she thought, shrugging off the problem entirely. "As long as nobody is pointing a finger at , he can think whatever he wants. It saves the trouble of hiding a body in the garden."
Then, a sudden, bright thought flashed across her mind. It lit up her eyes like a spark of fire.
"Wait a minute," Camilla thought, her internal voice suddenly filling with exciting mischief.
Damon heard the change in her tone. The lazy, annoyed voice was gone. The new voice was sharp, playful, and completely dangerous.
"I haven’t tried my newfound ability on him yet," Camilla realized in her mind. A slow, wicked smile began to curl the corners of her pink lips.
She looked down at Damon sitting in his wooden wheelchair. She looked at his broad shoulders and his dark hair.
"Let us see what I can do to the great Tyrant General." She thought happily. "Let us test the limits of this ability on the strongest man in the kingdom."
Damon sat very still. He slowly raised one dark eyebrow.
"What is she up to again?" Damon thought to himself. He felt a tiny prickle of warning on the back of his neck. He knew she was planning sothing terrible. He braced himself for an attack. He waited for her to insult him or try to force him out of the chair.
But Camilla did not attack.
She stepped forward and stood directly beside his wheelchair. She smoothed her hands down her beautiful red dress. She put on her very best, most polite, innocent smile. She looked like a sweet, loving wife who only wanted to care for her injured husband.
"My Lord," Camilla spoke out loud. Her voice was incredibly soft, gentle, and as sweet as warm sugar.
Damon looked up at her carefully. He did not trust that sweet voice at all.
"The weather is so nice today," Camilla continued nicely, gesturing gracefully toward the large glass windows near the front doors. The sun was indeed shining brightly. "The fresh air would be very good for your healing leg. Shall I take you to the garden for a walk?"
She asked the question so nicely, with such innocent eyes, that anyone else would have believed she was an angel.
Damon stared at her smiling face. He knew she was plotting against him. A smart man would have said no. A smart man would have ordered Kade to push him back to his bedroom.
But Damon wanted to know exactly what he was dealing with.
He kept his face completely blank. He looked her right in the eye.
"Of course, my dear wife," Damon replied out loud. His voice was deep, calm, and perfectly polite. He accepted her dangerous invitation without a single hint of fear.
Kade, who had been standing nearby, quickly moved aside. He stepped back against the wall, leaving the heavy wooden handles of the wheelchair open for Camilla to take.
Camilla smiled even wider. Her eyes sparkled with mischievous victory. She stepped behind the large wooden wheelchair. She placed her small, pale hands firmly on the thick wooden handles.
She leaned forward slightly, preparing to push the heavy chair across the marble floor.
"This is going to be so much fun," Camilla thought to herself, her internal voice laughing with dark glee.
Damon sat straight in his chair. He rested his large hands casually on his lap. He did not look back at her. He looked straight ahead toward the large double doors that led out to the beautiful, sprawling gardens of the mansion.
"I would love to see," Damon thought to himself, his own mind sharp and calculating, "what other tricks you have up your sleeve, my dear wife. Bring it on."
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