Chapter 7
Daemon’s POV
I dressed in silence, the weight of my choices heavier.
Penelope haunted me and not in a way I could ignore.
She didn’t just slip into my hands.
She slipped under my skin.
The chamber was quiet except for the dull sound of metal locking into place as I opened the old iron chest at the foot of my bed. My hands moved by instinct, collecting only what I needed. No flashy regalia. Just purpose.
A set of twin blades, one for speed, one for bone.
Two daggers forged in obsidian fire, thin and silent.
And my traveling armor, less ceremonial, more fitted, perfect for movement and stealth.
This wasn’t a war yet.
But one thing was certain: my daughter is leaving that place alive.
Even if it meant I had to burn the kingdom of Northern Watters to the riverbed.
The door creaked open behind me. I didn’t turn. I already knew it was Lucas.
He stopped a few steps in, eyes falling on the weapons I was assembling.
"You're going armed?" he asked, carefully.
I glanced over my shoulder. “I’m not going in blind.”
Then added, “Prepare ten soldiers. Only ten.”
“Ten?” he echoed, uncertain. “That’s not even a third of your escort. That’s too light for”
“Exactly,” I said sharply. “This isn’t a parade, Lucas. We’re not going to show strength. We’re going to retrieve Callister with as little attention as possible. Stealth. Silence. Speed.”
He exhaled and gave a tight nod. “Understood. Who do you want leading them?”
“Cadrin, Rhel, and Mira. The rest, handpicked. No one who speaks too much. No one who panics.”
“Mounted?”
“Yes. But have them cloak their armor and blades. No sigils. The last thing I need is some old seer in Northern Watters having a vision about our banners before we even arrive.”
Lucas gave a wry smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So we’re ghosts, then?”
I strapped on my dagger belt. “Exactly. We go in, fix this, and leave before the whispers start.”
He turned to leave, but then stopped at the threshold, his body stiff.
“There’s something else,” he said, hesitating.
I looked up, eyes narrowing. “Speak.”
“I heard from a contact... Lord Ardan is there.”
I went still.
Lord Ardan. That name was a curse in my blood. A high-born from the inner circle of Northern Watters. A man with influence, cunning, and a vendetta. He never forgot a slight. And he had one against me from years ago.
My jaw clenched. “Of course he’s there.”
Lucas stepped back as I crossed the room to a locked cabinet embedded in the stone wall. I pressed my palm to the rune-etched metal. It clicked open, and inside, wrapped in deep blue velvet, was the weapon.
A dark steel spear, longer than most men, curved with old northern runes carved along the shaft. Its tip shimmered with a faint red hue as though it had tasted fire long ago and never forgot.
It was my father’s. A weapon passed through bloodlines.
The Raze-Spear.
Only used when there was no diplomacy left.
Only used when destruction was the message.
Lucas stepped forward, alarmed. “Daemon, that’s not necessary. We’re going for peace. It’s still salvageable”
I cut him off, voice low and final. “Bring the spear.”
He opened his mouth again, then closed it. He saw the look in my eyes and nodded
Penelope’s POV
I left the beach with the sun warm on my skin and salt in my hair.
The guards at the archway barely glanced at me, some recognized me, but none dared stop me. I wasn’t officially “welcomed” in this palace, but I had long stopped needing permission to move through places. Especially not after last night.
My steps were slow, deliberate, like I was floating.
God, my body still tingled.
I made it to my room and locked the door behind me. The moment it clicked shut, I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Trouble,” I muttered to myself, untying the wrap around my waist. “That Callister girl is always in some kind of chaos.”
Not that I cared. She could fall into a pit and I’d probably toss her a rope after a few hours.
Still, the whispers I heard on the way in stirred my curiosity. Something bad had happened.
Bad enough for Daemon to ride out tonight.
Bad enough that maybe… just maybe, I could use this.
I turned to the mirror.
My reflection didn’t lie.
Hair wild. Skin flushed. Bite marks on my neck, still pink and pulsing.
Daemon’s marks.
My fingertips trailed over them, and I smiled.
"That was a good one,” I said aloud, licking my lips.
Revenge, that’s what it had started as. A game. Payback.
But gods…that man. That night. That fire.
It had been a long time since anyone touched me like that with rage, with hunger, like I was the storm and he was desperate to get caught in it.
And the worst part?
I wanted more.
Not love. Not softness.
More chaos.
More of his teeth on my throat. More of his hands pinning me down like he needed to ruin me to breathe.
I reached behind me, letting my robe fall, letting the air kiss my skin.
Marks everywhere, on my hips, my waist, my thighs.
Proof that Daemon Baldur didn’t just want me.
He claimed me last night.
And oh, how I let him.
But this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
If he thought that night was a slip, a one-time sin, he was wrong.
He opened a door, and now I was walking through it in heels and a smile.
A slow grin crept across my face.
What if I followed him?
To Northern Watters.
Oh, Callister would lose her perfect little mind.
Imagine her face when I show up beside her father, all smug and untouchable.
Would she see the marks? Would she know?
Even better, what if I seduced him again?
This time slower. This time in full daylight.
This time knowing exactly what I was doing.
Hell, maybe I'd wear white. Just to be petty.
I started moving around the room, pulling out clothes, nothing too formal, just enough to look bold and impossible to ignore.
Black boots. Tight pants.
If Daemon was bringing soldiers and a blade, I was bringing perfume, sarcasm, and the kind of energy that makes kingdoms fall.
Let him try to resist me again.
Let him try to forget the way he groaned my name.
This time, I’d leave more than scratches.
I’d leave a mark so deep, not even time could wash it off.
And maybe I’d ruin him.
Just like he ruined me, softly, slowly and with one damn unforgettable night.
The water clung to my skin like silk as I stepped out of the bath, the steam curling around me like a lover’s embrace. My body still hummed with the memory of Daemon, his mouth, his hands, the way he had gripped me like I was his last breath.
Gods.
I wrapped the towel around me and stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked ruined.
In the most delicious way.
My neck was bruised with his bite, my lips still swollen from his kiss, and my skin still flushed from the fire he set off inside me. And yet I wanted more. Craved it. Like a thirst I couldn’t quite quench.
Then came a knock.
My heart jumped.
I froze, towel still clutched to my chest. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Was it him?
Was Daemon really standing on the other side of that door?
Shit. What would I even say?
“Hi, remember me? The woman you devoured last night?”
I padded softly across the room, every nerve awake.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t him.
It was just a young maid with a tray of food in her hands.
Disappointment crashed over me, fast and sharp.
“Good evening, my lady,” the girl said sweetly. “Your food.”
I forced a small smile. “Thank you. You can leave it on the table.”
She walked in and gently placed the tray down. The smell of roasted lamb, herbs, and something warm filled the room, but I wasn’t hungry. My appetite was elsewhere.
“Would you need anything else?” she asked, voice polite.
“No,” I said, already distracted. “That’ll be all.”
She nodded and left.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence.
It was already getting dark outside.
The sky turning violet, the air cooling.
Still… no word from Daemon.
No summons. No knock. No message.
My teeth grazed my lower lip as I stared out the window.
Could he really not remember?
Was he that drunk?
A man doesn’t kiss a woman like that, touch her like that, and then forget.
But maybe I meant nothing more than a blurry night to him.
The thought made something bitter twist in my gut.
Fine.
If he wouldn’t come to me… I’d go to him.
Revenge wasn’t passive. It was power. And I wore mine in red.
I slipped into the dress like it was made of fire.
Short. Tight. Barely legal.
It clung to my curves like second skin, rising dangerously high over my thighs, showing the full curve of one side of my bum if I moved too quickly.
Perfect.
I let my hair down, brushing it until it flowed like midnight silk over my shoulders.
Then came the perfume, warm, floral, with a hint of something dark.
One that clung to the skin and made men follow with glassy eyes and open mouths.
I oiled my legs slowly, taking my time. My skin glowed, smooth and bronze under the low candlelight.
No one was going to ignore this entrance. Not even a brooding Alpha with a kingdom to run.
I stepped out into the hall, strutting like I already owned the night.
I didn’t know where Daemon’s room was, but luck or strategy was on my side.
A young maid passed by, holding folded linens in her arms.
I caught her attention instantly. She almost dropped the cloth.
“Excuse me,” I said with a soft smile, my voice smooth like honey.
She blinked, already flustered. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I’m Penelope.”
“Oh I know who you are,” she said quickly, eyes flickering over my body and back to my face.
“I need directions to the Alpha’s quarters,” I said, playing it cool. “He sent for me.”
She paused. And not in the polite way.
She scanned me from the gloss on my lips to the thighs barely covered by red silk.
And if she looked at me like that, jealous, intrigued and speechless.
I could only imagine what Daemon would do when he saw me.
Boom.
Game on.