Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 326: Chapter Three Hundred And Twenty Five

Camilla sat in her cushioned chair. She looked at the Prince then at Isolde. Princess Isolde did not look like the message was important.

Instead, Isolde let out a long exaggerated sigh. She crossed her arms over her dress and rolled her eyes.

"You are lying, Elio," Isolde spoke out loud. Her voice was flat and unimpressed.

She pointed a finger at her older brother.

"Mother isn’t calling me at all," Isolde accused him confidently. "You just want me to come to the training grounds to watch you spar with Ivan. You just want me to stand there and take your side as the winner when you two argue about who got the best hit."

Prince Elio stood near the edge of the gazebo. He tried to keep his face serious, but he failed.

The strict serious mask melted away immediately.

Elio threw his head back and laughed. It was a warm, bright laughter. It echoed happily among the red rose bushes.

"Fine, fine," Elio chuckled, raising his hands in the air to surrender. "You caught me. But you know Ivan always cheats when we practice. I need a fair judge."

Camilla sat silently, watching the two royal siblings. She was amazed by how normal they acted. They did not act like untouchable, arrogant royals. They just acted like a normal, playful brother and sister. The royal family really raised them well.

Camilla realized she needed to address her previous mistake. She remembered bumping hard into Prince Elio in the grand hallway earlier that morning.

Camilla stood up gracefully from her comfortable chair. She smoothed down the silk skirts of her dress. She placed her hands neatly in front of her and lowered her body into a proper curtsy.

"Your Highness," Camilla spoke softly, her voice polite and respectful. "I sincerely apologize for what happened in the morning. I..."

Before Camilla could finish her formal apology, Prince Elio quickly raised his hand. He smiled at her.

"Please, do not apologize, my lady," Elio stopped her smoothly. "I should be the one to apologize to you. I was in a terrible hurry, and I wasn’t looking at where I was going at all. It was entirely my fault."

He stepped slightly closer to the gazebo. He looked at Camilla with polite curiosity.

"May I know your name?" Elio asked politely, offering a small bow of his head. "I am Elio, by the way."

Camilla curtsied again. "I am Camilla Benson, Your Highness."

Prince Elio raised his right hand and gently touched his chin. He tapped his finger against his skin, thinking deeply about the name.

"Benson," Elio murmured quietly to himself. "Benson..."

Suddenly, his eyes widened slightly in realization. An amused spark flashed in his eyes.

"Oh," Elio said, his smile growing much wider. He looked at her with newfound understanding. "You are Damon’s wife?"

Camilla nodded her head slowly. "Yes, Your Highness."

Prince Elio let out a soft, playful chuckle. He shook his head side to side, looking around the garden as if checking the shadows for hidden monsters.

"Well," Elio joked, his voice full of teasing humor. "If he sees me talking to you alone in a gazebo, he is likely going to throw a fit. Damon is very protective. He might actually draw his sword on me."

Isolde, still sitting in her chair, waved her hand dismissively at her brother.

"Stop it, Elio," Isolde scolded him playfully. She smiled warmly at Camilla. "Damon just finally found true love. Do not ruin his day with your silly jokes."

Camilla stood near the white table. She looked at Prince Elio’s smiling face. She looked at his kind eyes and his polite posture.

A very strange, sudden feeling washed over her mind.

She stared at the Prince. She felt a very deep sense of familiarity. It was not a romantic feeling. It was a vague, blurry memory pushing against the edges of her brain.

Camilla frowned slightly. She thought to herself, her internal voice filled with curiosity.

"Why does he seem so familiar to me?" Camilla wondered in her mind.

She searched through the hidden memories of the original Lady Camilla.

"Did the original Camilla know him before she married Damon?" her thoughts questioned carefully. "Did she meet him at a royal ball? He seems very kind. Maybe he was one of the few people who actually treated her with respect when everyone else was bullying her."

Before Camilla could dig any deeper into the old memories, a new sound interrupted her thoughts.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The heavy, steady, unmistakable sound of leather boots walking on the stone path echoed through the quiet garden.

Camilla did not even need to look to know exactly who it was. She knew the exact rhythm of those footsteps.

She turned her head away from Elio and looked toward the entrance of the garden path.

Damon walked into view. His appearance looked imposing. But his face did not hold the cold, grim shadow he had worn during the royal council meeting.

When Damon saw Camilla standing in the white gazebo, his entire face softened.

Camilla’s face instantly lit up. A wide beautiful smile broke out across her lips. Her eyes sparkled with happiness. She was so glad to see him.

"My baby boy is here." She thought to herself.

Damon let out a small chuckle after hearing her thoughts. He walked straight up the small wooden steps of the gazebo.

As he approached her, Damon slowly raised his arms. He opened his arms wide, offering her a clear, open public welcome.

Camilla did not hesitate for a single fraction of a second.

She took a quick step forward. She walked into his open arms and wrapped her arms securely around his waist, pressing her body comfortably against his broad chest.

Damon wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. He pulled her close, burying his face very briefly into her hair. He breathed in the sweet scent of her soap. Holding her in his arms was the only thing that could wash away the terrible stress and the dark fears of the smuggled weapons from his mind.

"How was the meeting?" Camilla asked softly while resting safely in his arms. She looked up at him, her voice full of care.

Damon moved his hand. He gently, rhythmically rubbed the center of her back, soothing her completely. He did not want to tell her about the explosive iron pipes. He did not want to scare her with talks of high treason and the dark side of the kingdom.

"It went well," Damon lied smoothly, his deep voice a quiet, comforting rumble in his chest. "Just boring military reports."

After a long, warm moment, Camilla slowly stepped back. She broke the hug, dropping her hands to her sides.

Damon looked down at her. His eyes scanned her face, and then he looked down at her hands.

He noticed her silk gloves immediately. Because she had wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, the soft fabric of the gloves had bunched up again. They were slightly wrinkled near her wrists.

Damon did not say a word. He slowly reached out his right hand and gently took her wrist. With careful movements, he pinched the edge of the silk glove. He pulled the fabric slowly, smoothing out every single wrinkle until the glove sat flat against her skin. He did the exact same thing for her other hand.

His touch was devoted, attentive, and deeply affectionate.

Just a few feet away, Prince Elio and Princess Isolde were watching the entire interaction in silence.

AHEM.

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