Crown Princess Camilla forced herself to unclench her fists as she and her most trusted knights, The Royal's Blades, exited the royal courts. Her fingers relaxed only slightly as they stepped into the open air. The court's vultures circled overhead, their gossip and whispers piercing through the stillness. Her siblings' attempts to undermine her were growing bolder by the day.

She drew in a deep breath, the crisp air heightening her senses. She needed to figure out a solution to deal with them as her anger began to fume some more.

"Let's see if our speed has improved in the forest to release some anger," Milly,suggested eagerly, her voice echoing in Camilla's mind.

"No," Camilla replied, a dangerous smirk tugging at her lips as her eyes narrowed. "Time to remind everyone why we're not just crown princess by birth."

A howl emerged from Milly, evoking approval, a surge of electricity running through Camilla's veins at the sound.

"What do you have in mind?" Milly pressed, though the answer was already evident.

"We're heading out," Camilla said to her knights, her voice brimming with anticipation as she led the way, her stride purposeful and commanding.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," the ten Royal Blades responded, their voices charged with anticipation as they sensed their Crown Princess's intent.

Their presence was a testament to Camilla's strength; they had fought by her side when she crushed the revolt led by a banished lord and his army of two hundred. In three days, they would deliver another message—to Lord Hestiah to remind him of the power she holds as they drove to his territory to sneak up on him.

As they approached Lord Hestiah's territory, Camilla's heart grew heavy. The townspeople's faces, etched with lines of hardship and despair, reflected the state of the land under Hestiah's rule. The malnourished children and weary mothers stirred the compassion Camilla guarded beneath her stoic mask. The weight of their suffering was a burden she silently bore.

Milly, however, was less composed. Anger rippled through her, her growl reverberating in Camilla's mind. "He lets them suffer like this? How dare he! Let me rip out his throat!"

"We can't," Camilla replied, though her voice trembled even in her mind. The agony in her people's eyes gnawed at her, but she knew she had to tread carefully. "If we act out of anger, we'll prove them right—prove that we're growing unstable because we're not mated."The words tasted bitter, and she felt her resolve waver watching her people's suffering.

Milly snarled, frustration boiling over. "To hell with their theories! These people are suffering, Camilla. We can't just stand by and do nothing!"

A sharp breath escaped her, more sigh than conviction. She knew Milly was right; every part of her ached to stop this. "I know," Camilla assured her, determination hardening her voice. "But we need to be smart about this. If we're to be their ruler, we can't let our emotions dictate our actions."

"You're right," Milly growled, heading further in her mind, "We're heading to him now!"

Camilla lowered the car window, inhaling as the oppressive stench of decomposed matter contrasted sharply with the scent of fine wine, highlighting the disparity between the impoverished townsfolk and the select few wealthy individuals. The thick odor of neglect and ruin made her jaw tighten.

Steeling herself, she allowed Milly to surface, letting her royal power ripple subtly beneath her skin. With focused intent, she drew a deep breath, her senses sharpening as she sifted through the layers of muddled scents. Then she found it—Hestiah's muddy, distinct scent, cutting sharply across town like a dark thread woven through the air, which she would follow.

As Camilla entered the battleground, the soldiers stopped mid-training, her rainforest scent cutting through the stench as all eyes turned toward her.

"It's an honor to be in your presence, Crown Princess Camilla," they chorused, bowing deeply, their voices laced with stress. Their eyes were wide, and their posture conveyed worry and fear.

"At ease," Camilla commanded, her tone sharp and authoritative. "Return to your training."

Lord Hestiah appeared, his eyes widening at the sight of Camilla and The Royal Blades. "An unexpected honor, Your Highness—and the Royal Blades, nonetheless," he asked, struggling to maintain an air of calm.

Camilla's lips curled into a cold smile as she surveyed his troops. Their movements were sloppy, their eyes dulled by the unmistakable haze of intoxication. A faint sneer crossed her face.

"Just wanted a closer look at the army that keeps falling to vampires," Camilla replied, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. The soldiers shifted nervously under her gaze, acutely aware they were being watched—and judged.

The stench of alcohol and wolfsbane hung thick in the air, acrid and overpowering. Camilla frowned; who could expect to train in such a stupor? Instead of confronting him directly, Camilla chose a more purposeful approach.

"How about a mock battle, Lord Hestiah?" Camilla suggested, her tone deceptively light. "It would be a good way to demonstrate the speed and precision your soldiers should strive for. First one down, loses, simple."

His eyes flickered with fear. "But, Your Royal Highness," he began, his voice oily with false concern, "It would be improper for me to attack you, especially if there's a chance of causing you harm. Some might even consider it treacherous."

Camilla locked eyes with him, "This isn't a request. You must be tired from all that training; we will commence tomorrow," she finally said, each word a sharpened blade as she turned and left the battleground, her royal cloak trailing behind her.

As Camilla and her Royal Blades entered the lavish Hestia Hotel. Its grandeur was unmistakable: intricate stonework, gleaming arched windows, and a lobby awash in golden light from crystal chandeliers. Rich velvet drapes and the faint scent of exotic flowers filled the air. Behind the desk, Lady Hestiah berated a worker, her scorn shifting to surprise at Camilla's approach.

"G-g-good d-day, Your Ro-yal Hi-gh-ness," a young worker stammered, hand trembling as she offered a price list.

Camilla accepted it gracefully, noting the exorbitant rates with a flicker of disdain, yet the citizens suffered, she thought.

Lady Hestiah hastily interjected, "Your Highness does not pay," snatching the list.

"It's fine—I'm a guest and can cover my soldiers," Camilla replied as a Royal Blade handed over a credit card. With keys in hand, she ascended to her suite, where the amenity bordered on excess: plush carpets, silk-draped beds, and marble baths with panoramic views of the impoverished town below—a bitter contrast.

"General Frank, would you like to accommodate me with a run through the territory?" she asked through mind-link.

"It would be my honor, Crown Princess Camilla," he enthusiastically replied. She considered correcting him to simply "Camilla," but he had never adjusted his formality over the century, so she let it be.

As they raced through the territory in their wolf forms, their speed left only Camilla's fresh rainwater scent lingering in their wake, a deliberate sign of her presence. The town remained on edge, the air crackling with unease.

"It's so nice to stretch my legs again," Milly said, her voice filled with relief after being confined to their human forms for days as their fur rippled through the breeze.

"Crown Princess Camilla, what will you do about Lord Hestiah exploiting the people?" General Frank asked, curiosity laced with respect in his tone.

"I'll observe for now," Camilla replied, her gaze focused ahead. "But first, he needs to learn a lesson."

General Frank wisely refrained from pressing further and followed her, his breath coming in steady puffs as he struggled to match her pace.

Milly let out a low, eager growl. "Quick and painful—for our people suffering."

"No," Camilla said firmly. "He's had power for too long. We'll give him false hope and toy with him."

"He doesn't deserve hope for going against us, even if it's with our brother and our people suffering," Milly growled in disagreement, chasing a deer and swiftly dispatching it, sharing the meat with General Frank.

"That is the exact reason he doesn't deserve mercy, which is quick," Camilla reasoned as Milly hummed in agreement.

As Camilla and General Frank returned, five knights stood watch outside her door and five on her balcony, their vigilance unwavering throughout the night.

Camilla strode into the arena in casual sweats, radiating a calm indifference that struck Hestiah as bold and unnerving. His eyes narrowed, anger flashing at her apparent disrespect, yet unease crept into his gaze as he considered slipping away.

Before he could move, Camilla launched herself from the arena's upper ledge, fifty feet above. The wind tore past her as she plummeted, every eye fixed on her in suspended awe. She hit the ground with a force that sent shockwaves rippling outward, leaving the earth trembling beneath her feet.

Gasps echoed around the arena as Camilla straightened, unscathed and unbothered. Every eye remained fixed on her—a testament to the relentless training she had endured under her parents, King Francois and Queen Mirabella.

Lord Hestiah's unease deepened as he recalled the rumors surrounding the royal children; they were bred for battle, forged in combat since the tragic death of Prince Beck. And now, with Prince Caspian still absent, Hestiah faced her alone.

"Lord Hestiah, are you ready?" Camilla's voice was cold and steady, her gray gaze darkening as she locked eyes with him—a reminder that this was no question but an inevitability. As Milly seeped through her stare, a low growl flickered in her eyes, slicing through the silence.

Hestiah's face flushed as he tried to summon the courage to meet her challenge, acutely aware of the cameras capturing every detail on the mega screens for the townspeople to see.

"General Frank," Camilla's voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding. "Referee the match. The rest of you—watch and learn."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," General Frank replied, his voice steady as he stepped forward. Soldiers moved to the stands, watching as the video feed began.

"Shift if you need to," General Frank added, signaling the start of the fight with a curt nod.

Lord Hestiah wasted no time settling for a direct attack. With a guttural snarl, he shifted into his wolf form, his body expanding into a mass of dark fur and bulging muscle. He charged at Camilla, his claws ripping through the earth with explosive force as he barreled forward.

But instead of meeting him head-on, Camilla sidestepped, her movements smooth and effortless. Hestiah roared in frustration and lunged again, but she evaded him again, leaving him snapping at empty air.

She circled him like a predator toying with its prey, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Each time he tried to close the distance, she slipped just out of reach, her speed and agility creating a mockery of his brute strength.

As Milly surfaced, "You'll have to be faster than that, Hestiah," Milly taunted, her voice light and playful, as though this was a game—because to them, it was.

Hestiah snarled and spun, his massive form kicking up dust, attempting to blind and corner her. But Camilla remained a step ahead, gliding past him with the effortless precision of a royal. The tension in the air grew heavier as the soldiers watched, their eyes wide with disbelief as she toyed with their lord.

Frustration flared in Hestiah's wild eyes, each ragged breath betraying his growing desperation. With a snarl, he lunged at her again, his powerful legs driving him forward with reckless abandon in a last-ditch effort to catch her off guard. Camilla held her ground until the last moment, letting him believe he'd finally cornered her.

Then, with a sharp pivot, she sidestepped again, her body moving with a fluid grace that belied the raw power behind it. Hestiah's momentum carried him forward, and without anything to stop him, he collided with the wall behind her with a bone-rattling crash.

The ground trembled with the force of his fall, and for a moment, stunned silence filled the arena as Hestiah staggered to his feet, startled and disoriented.

"Missed," Camilla said, her voice laced with mockery as she watched him struggle to stand. Her gaze was ice-cold, her posture unbothered.

Camilla smirked, anticipating his move. As he descended, she backflipped gracefully, her feet slamming into his ribcage with bone-shattering force, sending him hurtling across the field. Before he could hit the wall, she blurred forward, landing above him in a heartbeat and driving him down with a final, crushing kick.

She blurred to the center of the battlefield, watching Hestiah writhe, a few bones likely cracked. It was a pity she hadn't put more force into it—he might have been coughing blood. But the fight wasn't over.

"Is that all you've got?" Milly's voice cut through the silence like a death knell. "Or was that just a warm-up?"

Anger and humiliation burned in Hestiah's eyes as he spat blood, forcing himself to his feet. One last burst of energy, he charged, but Milly was ready.

"Time to end it," Camilla and Milly agreed.

As Hestiah charged, Milly met him mid-leap. In a single fluid motion, she shifted, her powerful jaws snapping shut around his neck with brutal precision. Blood seeped from between her teeth as she held him there, suspended, her grip unyielding. His eyes went wide, a flicker of raw terror crossing his face as he realized the truth—his life hung by a thread in her grasp.

As Milly flung his weakened body away from her, she couldn't help but think how pathetic he looked. As she ascended in the mind, returning control to Camilla.

The crowd fell silent as Lord Hestiah lay defeated, his chest heaving with labored breaths. Camilla stood over him, her gaze steady and unyielding.

General Frank declared, "The winner is Crown Princess Camilla."

The soldiers stood in stunned silence, their eyes reflecting a mix of awe and fear. They had always known the royal family to be formidable, but the Crown Princess had proven herself to be something far more terrifying.

Just as the tension peaked, a subtle scent of soft rain seeped into the air as Prince Caspian's slow applause shattered the silence. His expression was a complex blend of pity and simmering anger as he took in Lord Hestiah's battered form.

"Well done, sister," Caspian said, his voice dripping with controlled menace. "Such a battle is a pity I missed."

He turned to Camilla, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Perhaps now they deserve a real mock battle?"

The soldiers exchanged nervous glances, the weight of Caspian's words sinking in as the ominous promise of more to come hung heavily in the air.

.
.
.
.
.

Thank you all so much for reading this chapter! I know it was a bit longer, but I felt every detail was necessary to capture the tension. If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a vote and sharing your thoughts!

How did you feel about the battle between Camilla and Hestiah?

And what are your thoughts on Caspian's sudden arrival?

Would you be interested in seeing the Camilla and Caspian  face off in a battle?