Chapter ten: war
Logan stepped forward. "Our scouts have observed increased military activity along Arcadia's borders. Troop movements. Supply caravans. The angels are mobilizing."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
"War," a demon general said flatly.
"The question is when," Ronan said, already thinking several steps ahead. "And what their strategy will be. Michael isn't reckless. He won't attack without a solid plan."
"He's coming for her," another demon said, gesturing at Angelina. "The archangel wants his daughter back."
"Or dead," Logan added grimly. "We don't know which."
All eyes turned to Angelina.
She forced herself to speak calmly, even though her heart was racing. "My father won't attack recklessly. He'll try to minimize casualties on both sides."
"How noble," a demon sneered.
"It's not nobility. It's strategy," Angelina shot back. "Michael doesn't waste resources. He'll use a multi-pronged approach. Something to draw your attention while the real strike happens elsewhere."
Ronan's eyebrows rose. "She's not wrong."
"Why should we trust an angel in our war council?" the demon general demanded. "She could be feeding information back to her father. This could all be a trap."
"If I wanted to trap you," Angelina said, meeting his gaze steadily, "I wouldn't be here. My father wants me dead just as much as he wants Lothaire imprisoned. I have nowhere else to go."
"She stays," Lothaire said, his tone brooking no argument. "Anyone who has a problem with that can leave now."
No one moved.
"Good. Ronan, your assessment?"
Ronan began pacing, his mind clearly working through scenarios. "Knowing Michael, I'd expect a frontal assault led by Raphael—purely to draw our forces. Meanwhile, an infiltration team slips through the chaos to target specific objectives. Probably capturing you, Lothaire, and securing the angel."
"And the ogres?" Logan asked.
"Cannon fodder," Ronan said dismissively. "Ramiel's forces will take the brunt of casualties. Michael won't risk his own soldiers unnecessarily."
"So we fortify," a general suggested. "Strengthen the gates. Position troops at key points—"
"No," Angelina interrupted.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"No?" Lothaire's voice was dangerous.
Angelina stood, her hands clenched at her sides. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to continue. "You're all thinking about this wrong. You're preparing to defend. But Michael expects that."
"What are you suggesting?" Ronan asked, genuinely curious.
"I'm suggesting... peace."
The word fell into the room like a stone into still water.
"Peace?" Logan laughed bitterly. "With the angels? After they imprisoned Lothaire for twenty-two years?"
"After they tried to marry me off to an ogre to suppress my powers," Angelina added. "I know what they've done. But war will only make things worse. More people will die. Both angels and demons. And for what? Pride? Revenge?"
She turned to Lothaire. "You want revenge on my father. I understand that. But is it worth destroying everything? Your people will suffer. Mine will too. And in the end, we'll all lose."
"What would you have me do?" Lothaire's voice was cold. "Surrender? Bend the knee to the archangel who bound me?"
"I'd have you negotiate," Angelina said firmly. "From a position of strength. Show him that you're not the monster he thinks you are. Show him that I'm not a prisoner or a traitor. Force him to see that his war is pointless."
"He'll never agree," Raphael's name came from a demon.
"Then we make him agree," Angelina said. "We offer something he can't refuse. Information about the prophecy. Answers about what I really am. A chance to prevent the destruction he fears without bloodshed."
The room erupted in argument.
"This is madness—"
"We should crush them—"
"The angel speaks sense—"
"Enough!" Lothaire's voice cut through the chaos. Silence fell.
He stared at Angelina for a long moment. "You really believe your father would negotiate? The same father who suppressed your powers? Who arranged your marriage to an ogre? Who now marches to kill you?"
"I believe he's scared," Angelina said quietly. "I believe he thinks he's protecting the realms. And I believe that if we give him another option—a better option—he might take it."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then we fight," Angelina said, though the words hurt. "But at least we'll have tried. At least we won't have started a war that could destroy everything."
Ronan watched this exchange with intense interest. "It's a risk. But... not a foolish one. If we could neutralize the threat without battle, we'd preserve our forces. And more importantly—" he glanced at Lothaire, "—we'd show the other realms that you're capable of reason. That could be valuable long-term."
"You're actually considering this," Logan said, disbelief in his voice.
Lothaire stood, walking down from his throne. He stopped directly in front of Angelina.
"If we pursue peace," he said slowly, "it will be from a position of absolute strength. We fortify our defenses. We prepare for war. And only then, if your father shows even the slightest willingness to talk, do we consider negotiation."
"That's all I'm asking," Angelina said.
"But understand this, little angel—if your father betrays us, if this is a trap, if he uses peace talks to weaken our defenses..." His eyes glowed with infernal power. "I will show no mercy. To him. To his armies. To anyone who stands against us."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Lothaire leaned closer. "Because the moment we step onto the battlefield, you'll have to choose. Your father or me. Heaven or hell. There won't be room for both."
Angelina's throat tightened, but she held his gaze. "I know."
The silence stretched between them.
Finally, Lothaire turned back to his council. "Here's what we'll do. Ronan, prepare defensive strategies. Logan, continue surveillance on Arcadia. I want to know every movement they make."
"And the peace option?" Ronan asked.
"We'll... consider it. But I want contingencies for every scenario. If Michael shows any sign of good faith, we'll extend an offer to negotiate. If not—" his smile was dangerous, "—we give him the war he's expecting."
The council began dispersing, demons discussing strategy in low voices.
Ronan approached Angelina before leaving. "That was either very brave or very stupid, angel. I haven't decided which yet."
"Can't it be both?" Angelina asked tiredly.
He laughed. "I think I'm starting to see why Lothaire mated with you. You're interesting." He walked away.
Once the room cleared, only Lothaire and Angelina remained.
"You realize what you've done," Lothaire said quietly. "You've made yourself responsible for this peace. If it fails, if your father attacks anyway, my people will blame you."
"I know."
"And yet you still pushed for it. Why?"
Angelina looked at him. Really looked at him. "Because I've seen what war does. I've heard the stories about the Great War. Thousands dead. Realms torn apart. And for what? Pride? Control? I won't be the reason that happens again."
"Even if it means protecting the father who betrayed you?"
"He's still my father," Angelina said softly. "And your demons are still your people. I don't want either side slaughtered because of me."
Lothaire studied her face. In the torchlight, she looked younger, more vulnerable. But there was steel underneath.
"You're not what I expected," he admitted.
"What did you expect?"
"A weapon. Or a victim. Something I could use or discard." He paused. "Not someone who would fight for peace in the middle of a war council. Not someone who would defend both sides."
"I'm full of surprises," Angelina said with a weak smile.
"Yes," Lothaire agreed. "You are."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"The mating bond," Angelina said suddenly. "Does it... does it make you feel things you wouldn't normally feel?"
Lothaire's expression darkened. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I can feel you sometimes. Your anger. Your... other emotions. And I don't know if they're real or if it's just the bond forcing us together."
"I've been asking myself the same thing."
"And?"
"I don't have an answer yet." He moved closer. "But I know this—bond or no bond, you're dangerous, little angel. To me. To your father. To everyone."
"Because of the prophecy?"
"Because you make people want to protect you. Even people like me, who shouldn't care."
The words hung between them, charged with meaning.
Before either could speak again, rapid footsteps echoed in the hallway. Logan burst through the doors.
"My lord," he said breathlessly. "We have a situation at the eastern border."
"What kind of situation?"
"A lone rider. She breached our outer defenses. Injured, but determined. She's demanding to speak with—" his eyes flicked to Angelina, "—with the princess."
Angelina's heart stopped. "Who is it?"
"An angel. She says her name is Seraphina."
The world tilted.
"Sera?" Angelina's voice was barely a whisper. "She's here? How—"
She was already moving, running toward the doors. Lothaire caught her arm.
"It could be a trap."
"It's Sera," Angelina said desperately. "She wouldn't—she's my friend—"
"Your father could have sent her."
"Then let me find out!" Angelina pulled free and ran.
Lothaire cursed and followed, Logan close behind.
They raced through the palace corridors, down to the main gates. A crowd of demon guards had formed a circle, weapons drawn.
In the center, barely standing, was Seraphina.
Her dress was torn and bloodied. Exhaustion lined her face. But when she saw Angelina pushing through the guards, relief flooded her expression.
"Linnie!" Sera's voice cracked.
"Sera!" Angelina rushed forward, but Lothaire's hand on her shoulder stopped her.
"Not yet," he said quietly. "We don't know what she knows. Or who sent her."
"Let me go—"
"Angelina." Lothaire's voice was firm. "Think. Your father could have sent her to lure you out. To make you lower your guard."
Angelina looked at Sera—her oldest friend, standing battered and exhausted among hostile demons.
"How did you find me?" Angelina called out.
"I had to warn you," Sera said, swaying on her feet. "They're coming. Michael—he's planning to—"
Her eyes rolled back. She collapsed.
"Sera!" Angelina broke free from Lothaire's grip and caught her friend before she hit the ground.
Sera was burning with fever, her breathing shallow. Blood seeped from wounds on her arms and side.
"She needs a healer," Angelina said, looking up at Lothaire with desperate eyes. "Please. Help her."
Lothaire stared down at the unconscious angel in Angelina's arms. Every instinct screamed trap. But he saw the genuine fear in Angelina's face. The loyalty.
"Take her to the healers," he finally ordered. "But she's under guard. No one speaks to her without my permission. Understood?"
The guards nodded.
As they carried Sera away, Angelina followed, but Lothaire caught her hand.
"Whatever she came to tell you," he said quietly, "it was important enough to risk her life. Angels don't abandon their realm lightly."
"I know," Angelina whispered.
"Which means the situation in Arcadia is worse than we thought."
Angelina looked back toward where they'd taken Sera. Her friend had crossed into enemy territory, injured and alone, to bring her a message.
What had happened in Arcadia? What had Sera learned that made her risk everything?
And most terrifying of all—what if the warning came too late?
"You said the same thing about your father once," Lothaire's words from earlier echoed in her mind.
Trust. Betrayal. War. Peace.
Everything was spiraling out of control, and Angelina felt like she was standing at the center of a storm, unable to stop the destruction coming from all sides.
She touched the mark on her neck—the mating bond that tied her to the devil.
Five days until Michael's army marched.
And now Sera was here, bringing a warning that could change everything.
The war hadn't started yet.
But Angelina could feel it coming, inevitable as nightfall.