Was that all? A petty prince had caused all this? A war of thousands—for what? So he could parade around, showing off like a peacock? Was this the war they had been training for? Was this ridiculous excuse the reason the kind maid had died for? Was it for this that Damian had lost the very few people who treated him like a human instead of a monster?
"Stand up, brat, show some respect!" Aramis barked, but Damian paid him no mind, remaining seated as he weighed the significance of everything he'd just heard.
"Leave him be," the elf commander said quietly, regaining her composure. Her expression returned to its cold, unreadable state. "He has no obligation to me. The rest of you, sit down. We need a plan."
"Isn't it simple?" Aramis suggested. "We attack their camp just like they did ours."
