Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Phillip moved through the shadows, keeping his steps light and steady.
He knew these paths as well as he knew his own castle halls.
They were hidden trails and shortcuts Mal had shown him long ago.
They wound through the undergrowth, providing him with perfect cover.
He heard the murmur of voices, the clinking of armor, and the crackling of campfires just beyond the next ridge.
He drew closer to the heart of the enemy encampment, his mind already strategizing the words he would need to sway them.
Enemy.
Unfortunately, that's what they were. When he'd left to secure the borderlands, he left the castle in Aurora's hands, surrounded by her protective detail. It had never occurred to him that he was letting an adversary in so close. Though these soldiers were plenty, they weren't exactly… top tier.
Phillip easily moved past a pair of sentries.
Their attention was on their dice game rather than the dark forest beyond.
His path was clear, the camp's defenses laughable.
He saw how he could undo their plans single-handedly: sabotage their machines, disarm their guards, or spread chaos with a false command.
The camp sprawled before him in a disorganized mess.
Tents leaned precariously. Weapons were scattered about, abandoned on makeshift racks or left propped against barrels.
Conversations floated through the cool night air, careless and loud.
Soldiers openly discussed their orders for the tree leaves and night creatures to hear.
“They’ll move at dawn,” one soldier was saying, his voice carrying authority. “With the forest still dark and the creatures barely stirring, we can cut through the edge and make straight for the heart. If we’re swift, the fae won’t even have time to organize.”
"Not that they could organize. They're plants and beasts."
There was laughter.
Phillip’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. His stomach twisted at the callousness of the man’s words. This wasn’t just a campaign—it was a desecration. A betrayal of everything the forest had given their kingdom.
A blade pressed against his back, sharp enough to make the hairs on his neck rise. “Don’t move.”
Phillip was royalty, unused to following orders. Unless they were given by a horned fae. He turned his head slightly, enough to catch the glint of moonlight on the sword, and found the stern face of Lord Queros. The man’s dark eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Well, well, the prodigal prince returns. Sneaking into camps now, are we? Has the throne fallen so far?”
Phillip raised his hands slowly, feigning surrender despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Queros. I see you’ve taken to skulking about with Aurora’s men rather than defending the people you swore to protect.”
"That’s what we’re doing here, Your Highness. Expanding our borders. Ensuring humanity’s survival.”
Phillip’s gaze flicked to the soldiers gathering behind Queros, their weapons raised but their stances uncertain.
His lips curled into a faint smirk, though the pressure of the blade against his back reminded him to tread carefully.
“Is that what you call destroying forests and displacing its inhabitants? My father welcomed you into these lands after you lost your king.”
Aurora's soldiers exchanged glances, their grip on their weapons loosening ever so slightly. Phillip’s words cut through the veil of confidence they had tried to maintain. He saw the doubt creeping in, the uncertainty flashing in their eyes as they looked at one another, questioning, hesitating.
It was working. On them. It was one of his own citizens he had to worry about.
Lord Queros's grip tightened on his sword. “We follow the queen’s command.”
Technically, Aurora wasn't a queen. Not until she married Phillip. Which was never happening. But he was choosing his battles at the moment.
"I am the ruler of this land."
"The only thing ruling you is your cock. Consorting with an animal in the woods, a creature beneath your station.”
So that's what this was: bigotry, pure and simple. “You won't win against the Forest Folk and their magic."
"Think your female deer will come to save you?"
Phillip heard an E instead of an A in the endearment.
He vaguely remembered Mal complaining about Aurora and vowels.
He focused on reining in the urge to spit out the truth—how Aurora had cursed him and betrayed both their kingdoms. But he could see the hardened faces of the men and women around him.
He knew those words would fall on deaf ears tonight. So instead, he chose a different truth.
“The forest is alive. It won’t be conquered, not by your machines, and certainly not by brute force.
Those machines you’re so confident about?
They’ll break down before they reach the heart of the Enchanted Forest. On foot, you’ll be met by the forest folk themselves.
This isn’t a battlefield you can master.
It’s a grave you’re digging for yourselves. ”
The soldiers shifted uneasily. Some of them, anyway. The women soldiers stood fierce and unyielding, their grips on their weapons steady, while the men glanced at one another, the slivers of doubt taking root in their eyes.
Lord Queros lowered his sword, as though Phillip was no real threat. “If you think you know so much, then act as our commander. Tell us how to defeat the forest and its creatures. How to tame this land you claim to understand so well.”
Phillip held the man's gaze, his heart steadying as he allowed himself a moment of clarity, a reminder of why he was truly here. “The only way to defeat it is with love.”
A heavy silence followed his words, his voice echoing in the stillness of the camp. Then, as if on cue, the men and women erupted into laughter, their voices loud and mocking, disbelief written across their faces.
Phillip’s heart didn’t waver, not even as their laughter filled the air.
He looked out at them, and a sadness settled over him.
They would never see the forest as he did, never feel its pulse, its strength.
They would never understand what it meant to protect something for the love of it, to defend it not with force but with loyalty and reverence.