Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 197: Trap, Ambush or?...

Chapter 197: Trap, Ambush or?...

Jasper blinked. "What, you think he’s still here?"

"No," Damian said in a low voice. "I think he was here. Long enough to watch us scramble. Maybe long enough to plant something. This—" he gestured at the room, the guards, the rising tempo of patrols, "—is a distraction. A smokescreen."

Evelina’s breath slowed. Her hand curled unconsciously over her ribs. A low growl reverberated in her mind.

"He’s not hiding," Relia said. "He’s watching. Waiting. Like carrion circling before the kill."

The tension in the room thickened. Jasper looked between them. "So what do we do?"

"We prepare," Evelina said. Her voice was steel again. "Whatever this is—it’s not over."

Damian nodded once.

The days that followed were a haze of unease.

The following days passed in a haze of anxiety. Arcadia lay under a dull, gray sky. The once vibrant market squares closed up early, while the palace halls were filled with hurried footsteps and quiet conversations.

Guards doubled their rotations, worked longer hours, and the city gates remained shut except for approved convoys. The Council met daily, sometimes more than once, going over reports and trying to find a pattern to the chaos—yet nothing.

Luther remained a ghost.

No sightings. No letters. No new blood spilled in his name. It was silence. And it was worse than chaos.

Damian felt it gnawing at the edges of his instincts.

Every night, his dreams were filled with dark shapes—shadows that followed him but never attacked. Each morning, he woke up feeling like someone was watching him, with the hairs on his neck standing up before he even got out of bed.

"He’s baiting us," Storm murmured in the back of his mind. "Wearing you down. Waiting to see who cracks first."

"I know," Damian muttered under his breath one evening, standing alone on a balcony as Arcadia slept uneasily below. "But I won’t let it be her."

It was that thought of her that gave birth to his decision.

Two mornings later, Damian cornered Jasper in the armory while the younger man fiddled with a set of mismatched throwing knives, tossing a velvet-bound scroll at Jasper’s chest.

Jasper caught it with a blink. "This doesn’t smell like a death warrant. Should I be alarmed?"

Damian stood at the window, back to the sun, watching the outer courtyard with his arms crossed. "It’s an invitation."

Jasper cracked the seal. "You wrote her a poem?"

"It’s a map. Coordinates. Tell her to wear something comfortable."

A grin slowly spread across Jasper’s face. "You’re planning an outing? This is serious."

Damian exhaled slowly through his nose. "The city’s choking on its own paranoia. If we don’t breathe soon, we’ll go mad."

"Sure," Jasper said, flipping the scroll lazily between his fingers. "Or you just want to see her smile again."

He was teasing, but Damian didn’t respond.

"You’re softening," Storm murmured smugly from the recesses of Damian’s mind. "You used to be stone. Now you’re glass. All it takes is the right pressure, and—"

"That’s enough,"

But Storm only chuckled. "You’re not fooling anyone. Least of all yourself."

Damian ignored him and headed for the store, where he carefully selected items on the low table.

A bottle of pale wine from the vineyards near Lake Elenor. A silver tin of spiced dates and honeyed walnuts. A small round of white cheese that had made Evelina groan in pleasure the last time she tried it. And a folded tapestry, soft with intricate embroidery, dyed in dusk colors.

He took extra care with the arrangement. Everything wrapped in linen. No palace insignias. No guards trailing them.

Just... something normal. Or as close to normal as they could afford.

Jasper watched him in silence, then whistled low. "You’re really going for the soft charm today, huh?"

Damian allowed the corner of his mouth to curl. "Just bring her. And tell her... to dress casual."

—

It took some coaxing.

Evelina stared down at the scroll Jasper handed her like it was a riddle from a half-mad oracle.

"Coordinates," she muttered. "No message?"

"Other than dress casual? That’s the message." Jasper smirked.

She lifted a brow. "Did you write this?"

"Do I look like the romantic type?"

"Well, you did manage to charm a visiting princess. I don’t know how, because you still look like the type to mislabel a trap as a date."

He clutched his chest theatrically. "I’m wounded."

Despite herself, she laughed. It was short and soft, but real.

Which, Jasper noted, was the first laugh he’d heard from her all week.

—

The clearing was nestled between two hills, protected by birch trees and strong oak roots. It used to serve as a waystation—a stop on their old patrol routes—but now the stone markers were covered in moss, and the grass was wild with bright golden patches.

When Evelina arrived, the sun was just beginning to dip, bathing the glade in amber.

Damian was already there, his tunic loose and sleeves rolled, crouched beside the spread tapestry. His boots were off, his bare feet in the grass.

She froze at the edge of the clearing.

He looked up—and smiled.

Not the cold tilt of command. Not the tight, polite curl he used for diplomacy.

Just... a smile.

"You came," he said.

She hesitated, then stepped forward. "I wasn’t sure if this was a trap or an ambush."

"I considered both," he replied. "But the wine would’ve been wasted."

She stopped beside him, eyes sweeping the scene. The food. The folded napkins. The wine, half-poured in crystal glasses. "You planned this."

"Of course I did." He offered a glass. "Sit with me."

She did, slowly, legs folding beneath her with careful grace. She wore no armor, just a sleeveless tunic and leather riding trousers. Her hair was down.

He couldn’t stop staring.

Storm purred in the back of his mind. Now this is a foolish risk I can support.

Damian handed her the wine. "We’ve had one hundred and thirteen council sessions this week. I thought we deserved a single hour without war."

Evelina took a slow sip, then sighed. "It’s good."

"I know," he said, smug. "You drank three cups of it during the banquet."

Her brow lifted. "You remembered?"