DEMON CRY

23.

The King had doubled the warriors around the castle. 

No one wanted that awful incident to re-occur. Lord Jeremiah had seen to it that none would leave or enter without the notice of his warriors. The Second-In-Command, Lord Tyhane was assigned to protect the King and the Queen. The King appointed Lord Jeremiah for Prince Damien's protection but the Prince shrugged it off. He had Lord Jeremiah look after his wife and his father-in-law. He had the Supreme Sorceress to protect the children. He was determined to take care of Amara himself. 

None of the Royals protested. His mother surprised him by not fussing over it. His father responded the same way. 

Prince Damien sat on a chair he pulled next to Amara's bed. She was breathing gently. He sat there for some time, his gaze lingering on her pretty face. Her brown hair was sprawled all over her pillow. Tiny strands clung to her forehead. Her face was paler than usual. Her eyelashes touched her cheekbones. She was gorgeous. 

He didn't want her to wake up to him staring at her. That would be awkward. So he busied himself. He wrote a letter to the General he had appointed in Tracovia for updates and sent the messenger on his way. Then for a moment, he left Amara alone to get his Dithraiyan from his room. He would finish it while he was here. 

He didn't know about the time. He kept writing and writing and writing until he heard a small whimper. Frowning, he looked up from the leather-bound book. He saw Amara move. This was the first time she had shown any signs of movement after the attack. The Prince got up from his seat and rushed toward her. 

He placed his hand on her hand and the other on her forehead. She was burning. Phoebe had warned him about it. She told him she had already given Amara everything she had needed and that Amara would feel pain for some time. 'Amara,' her name was a mere whisper from his mouth. She continued to whimper. She was crying. 

Then she stopped. 

Her face was back to normal, only the trails of tears served as a reminder of her strange behaviour. He sighed. He took a towel and wiped her tears gently. When he was satisfied, he went to his book. He knew for a fact that Amara wasn't crying in pain. She was dreaming. He couldn't tell about what. 

As soon as he sat on his chair, he felt as if a powerful wave had crashed into him. He held on to the table for support. 

Confused, he looked up at Amara. He could practically see the magic oozing from her. 

For a few moments, he couldn't even move. His legs felt too weak against the tides of magic that crashed and receded. He felt like his entire weight was resting on the table. He was astonished. He stared at Amara unable to wrap his head around the power she possessed. He had been with great and powerful magic-wielders before and none of them had this sort of power, not even Phoebe. 

Another wave of magic crashed into him. 

He felt his insides clawing. Fear gripped him. 

His beast wanted out. 

Dread filled him. He fought his beast for control. He simply could not lose his composure. He clenched his jaw. His body was trembling because of the strain. His breath shortened. He could barely breathe. His vision became hazy and the room spun around him. 

'Prince Damien!' 
He thought he heard Phoebe's voice but it came from afar.

He thought he heard multiple voices after that. He couldn't make out the words but he could sense their urgency. 

'Amara! Stop this!' 
He thought he heard someone yell at her. 

That was all it took. His beast overpowered him.