Chapter 350 - Three Hundred And Forty Nine

Chapter 350: Chapter Three Hundred And Forty Nine

Camilla stepped back three paces to create distance between them. She held her left arm with her right hand, feeling the warm blood trickling down her skin. She panted softly, her chest rising and falling beneath her outfit as she caught her breath.

"Seems he doesn’t know I’m Damon’s wife." Camilla thought to herself. " That makes this much easier."

General Howe quickly recovered from his shock. A nasty, confident grin spread across his face beneath his thick mustache. Seeing that his opponent was a young woman who was already injured and bleeding gave him a surge of arrogance.

"So, you are just a woman hiding behind a hood," Howe mocked, taking a firm stance and pointing his sword straight at her throat. "You fought well, but your strength is fading. I will finish you once and for all!"

He prepared to spring forward to drive his blade into her heart.

Then, something happened that made Howe’s blood run cold.

Camilla stopped panting. Her face did not show fear. Her eyes did not show pain.

Instead, her lips slowly curved upward. Her shoulders began to tremble softly, and a low, quiet sound came out of her throat.

She was laughing.

It was not a soft or happy laugh. It was a cold wicked laugh that echoed eerie and loud through the bedroom.

General Howe’s eyes narrowed into tight slits. He stopped his advance, caught completely off guard. A strange, heavy dread began to creep up his spine.

What is she playing at? Howe thought, his stomach turning into a tight knot. Why is she laughing when a sword is pointed at her face? Has she lost her mind?

While Howe stood there confused, Camilla relaxed her hands. She unclasped her fingers and simply let go of her weapons.

CLATTER!

Both of her daggers dropped out of her hands, hitting the hard floorboards with a clear, sharp sound.

She did not pick them up. She did not reach for another weapon. Instead, Camilla walked over to a high-backed chair sitting near the desk. She turned around, sat down comfortably on the soft cushion, and crossed her long legs, resting her arms casually on her lap like a noble lady sitting down for afternoon tea.

General Howe stared at her in bewilderment. He pointed his sword at her chest, his arms shaking slightly.

"What are you doing?" Howe demanded, his voice laced with confusion and anger. "Have you given up?"

Camilla looked up at him from her chair. Her eyes locked onto his face, and her wicked smile widened, showing her straight white teeth.

"I’m not sure I can beat you in close combat right now," Camilla spoke softly, her tone calm. "My body is bruised, my arm is injured, and I’m certainly not up to your high military standards with a blade."

She paused, her expression turning terrifyingly cold as her eyes burned into his soul.

"But you must pay for what you did to him."

General Howe felt he was wasting precious time listening to her nonsense. He tightened his grip on his sword, his face darkening with anger.

"Crazy woman!" Howe shouted, lunging forward with all his strength, bringing his sword down to split her head in two. "Die!"

Camilla did not move from her chair. She did not raise her arms to shield herself. Her fingers simply tapped rhythmically on the armrest. Her eyes devoid of emotions.

When she opened her mouth, her voice dropped into a freezing register that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the room.

"I hope the air you breathe leaves your lungs."

The second those words left her lips, the invisible atmosphere inside the bedroom shifted violently.

General Howe’s sword arm stopped mid-air, inches away from her head.

Suddenly, Howe’s eyes bulged wide out of his sockets. He opened his mouth wide to take a breath, but no air entered his throat. The oxygen inside his chest was violently pushed out of his body. He tried to draw air back into his lungs, but the air around his face refused to move into his mouth. His lungs burned as if they were filled with fire.

CRASH!

The sword slipped from Howe’s weak fingers, dropping onto the floor.

Howe fell straight onto his knees in front of her chair. He raised both of his trembling hands and grabbed his own neck, his fingernails digging frantically into his skin as he tried to pull his throat open. His face quickly turned from red to a dark, bruising purple. Sweat poured off his forehead like rain as his body thrashed uselessly on the floorboards, choking violently on his own empty throat.

Tears of agony streamed down Howe’s face. He looked up at Camilla sitting calmly above him, his eyes filled with horror.

He managed to force a faint, cracking sound out of his crushed airway.

"You... you are... a witch..." Howe choked out, his voice barely a rasp.

Camilla leaned forward slightly in her chair, looking down at his pathetic, thrashing body. Her voice was dark, quiet, and echoing with malice.

"You know... it has been long since I used this," Camilla said softly, watching him choke. "After I finished dealing with my enemies, I told myself I would never use this jinx again, I will focus on my skills. I never thought I would use this ability to actually kill someone."

General Howe felt his vision darkening at the edges. Large black spots danced before his eyes, and his brain screamed for air. He knew he was seconds away from dying of suffocation.

He fell forward onto his hands and knees at her feet, his body shaking violently as his voice cracked into a desperate, dying whisper.

"Please..." Howe begged, his eyes rolling toward the back of his head. "Let... me... go..."

Camilla slowly stood up from her chair as she walked over to his kneeling form.

She stopped right in front of his trembling face and looked down at him with cold, dead eyes.

"Did you let him go?" Camilla asked softly.

She did not wait for an answer. Camilla reached down, gripped the hilt of her fallen dagger from the floor, and swung her arm with brutal force.

CRACK!

The steel pommel smashed directly into the side of Howe’s jaw.

General Howe’s eyes went limp. The agonizing choking stopped, and his body collapsed face-first onto the floorboards, unconscious.

Camilla did not waste a single second. She grabbed the leather packing straps lying near his trunks. She pulled Howe’s arms behind his back and bound his wrists tightly together, pulling the leather straps until they bit deep into his skin. She then wrapped another thick strap around his ankles, tying him so securely that he would not be able to move even an inch when he regained consciousness.

Just as she pulled the final knot tight, heavy, frantic footsteps rushed up the outer hallway.

Kade burst through the broken doorway into the bedroom, his long steel sword drawn and ready for battle. He was panting heavily, his face pale with fear that Camilla had been overwhelmed by Howe’s guards or Howe himself.

"My lady!" Kade shouted, his eyes scanning the room frantically.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

On the floor near the entrance lay Howe’s aide, knocked out cold. In the center of the room sat General Howe himself, bound tightly with leather straps and bleeding from his jaw, unconscious.

Standing near the desk was Camilla. Her hood was down, her curly hair fell over her shoulders, and her left sleeve was torn and bloody, but she was standing tall, calmly wiping her dagger clean against her cloth.

Kade let out a long breath of shock, sheathing his sword slowly. He stepped forward and dropped down onto one knee before her.

"My lady!" Kade said, his voice filled with intense relief. "Are you unharmed?"

Camilla turned her head to face him, her expression returning to its calm, composed authority.

"Kade," Camilla spoke softly.

Kade raised his head. "Yes, my lady?"

Camilla looked down at the tied-up traitor lying at her feet, then looked out the open window toward the dark road leading to the capital.

"Let’s go," Camilla commanded quietly. "The King’s men will handle this the appropriate way."