16

Prince Damien was withering. His insides were eating him. He needed another assignment. He needed to get away from everyone. There were two women he valued in his life, he had managed to skewer his relationship with them in one day. He had yelled at Amara and he had left his mother crying on the floor. What kind of monster was he becoming?

The kind that she cursed you to become, a voice inside his head answered him. 

He was in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling miserable. 

He should've said something. He should've hugged his mother. Apologized a million times for walking away like that and a million more for being such an asshole. 

He tried to open up to her but he was never sure how she would take it. When he told her about the curse, she'd lost her mind. She was so mad. She wanted the blood of the person who had cursed him. He never told her or anyone. It would drive her out of her senses. She would do everything and anything to remove it. It would mean war. And he couldn't allow that. He loved his people. He would never want war. 

His eyes fell on his cupboard. 

The reason for his curse was in there. He could never part with it. It reminded him that his brother had been avenged. It reminded him of the one time he had been victorious. If he mustered up the courage to return it, it would be gone. The curse. The pain. 

But it was a part of himself. No matter what he wished for, he could never forget that. It had ruined him. 

He wanted to crumble and cry, just like his mother had. Mentally, he had already done that but his physical self just stayed put on the edge of the bed. 

He needed to go away. 

He didn't know for how long he was sitting there. 

There was a knock on his door. 

He didn't move, 'What is it?' 

'Prince Damien, the King has summoned you. It's urgent.' 

'I'll be there.' 

He struggled on his feet. His heart weighed heavy. Maybe his father wanted to talk about his mother's condition. He shut his eyes. He wasn't ready. He couldn't face all those feelings; neither could he disregard a direct order from the King. 

So he straightened his clothes and drew in a few deep breaths. When he put on his mask of indifference, he walked outside and allowed the escort to guide him. 

He had been the last to arrive in the Hall. All the ministers were there. His father and next to him was his mother. He thought of how alike they were. No one could look at his mother and tell that she had been bawling her eyes off a few hours earlier. None could look at him and tell that he was suffering. It was the mask of indifference that protected them. 

He took his seat at the table. It was right next to the King, as always. 

'I have called for this important meeting as we have received very troubling news from the Tracovian Province,' The King spoke. 'Duke Trent has asked for our help.' 

Prince Damien never liked Duke Trent. He always thought him as the kind of man that loved power more than anything else, the sort of men disgusted him. 'What seems to be the problem?' He asked. 

'Hear it for yourselves,' The King motioned the warrior that stood at the end of the hall. 

The warrior marched toward the table and bowed, 'Greetings.' He stood straight, 'I am Duke Trent's messenger and I come to you bearing ill tidings. A month ago, the Tracovian Province was attacked from its western border. Swarms of demons came in. We managed to drive them off. The people were not affected. Four days ago, they attacked again. We were unable to hold them. They broke through the borders. Three hundred and seven warriors have died along with a hundred and forty-eight civilians. A major fraction of both is injured. For now, we are safe. The city has been evacuated and everyone is brought inside the Tracovian fortress. The stocks are depleting rapidly. We don't have enough resources to last us another week.' 

'How did you escape?' one of the ministers asked. 

'He almost didn't,' the King spoke. 'When he came to us, three days ago, we thought he wasn't going to make it.' 

'Good Lord!' One of the minsters exclaimed. 

'Duke Trent requests more warriors,' the warrior spoke. 

'Yes, of course,' the King said. 'How many would he-' 

Prince Damien cut him off, 'No, Father. Tracovia doesn't need more men.' That power-hungry Duke would just want to be the boss and show his power off. He clenched and unclenched his fists. So many of his people, killed. He would slay the entire population of demons there. 

'What are you thinking of, Prince Damien?' Sir Rowan asked. 

'I will go there with my warriors. I will make sure each and everyone demon is accounted for.' 

'But Prince Damien, you have only returned from a battle. It has barely been a month,' Lord Tyhane spoke. 'I could go if you'd allow me to.' 

'No, Lord Tyhane,' Damien shook his head. 

'Lord Tyhane is right, son,' the King started speaking. 'You should stay-' 

The Queen placed her hand on the King's shoulder, 'Dear, I have faith in my son. He will handle this situation. He is the best choice for our military and for our people.' 

He wanted to cry. Even after all he had done... or not done, she still vouched for him. She wanted him close to her but she understood him. She understood that he wanted to get away from here. She gave in to his choices so easily. It broke his heart. 

'I suppose it is, dear,' the King spoke. He looked at his son, 'When will you leave son?' 

'Immediately. We will carry extra blankets and food for the people locked inside the fortress. I will stay there for a month or so till Tracovia starts functioning properly.' Prince Damien tried not to be affected by the look in his parents' eyes. 

There was nothing they could do. 

It had already been decided. 

He was to leave immediately.