Camilla let out a very soft, quiet breath. The adrenaline from her perfect acting performance was slowly leaving her body.

She chuckled nervously.

Heh. Heh. Heh.

She rubbed her hands together.

"You believed me?" Camilla asked softly. Her voice was full of genuine surprise. She truly thought he would take the side of the head physician who had saved his life. She thought he would be angry at her for causing trouble in his camp.

Damon did not answer her question with words. He stood completely silent. He just looked down at her face, his expression completely unreadable.

Camilla saw his silence. She did not feel threatened by it anymore.

Camilla smiled. It was a very warm, very real, and very sweet smile.

"Thank you for believing me," She said gently. She bowed her head just a tiny bit in a show of true respect. "You are the most disciplined man I have ever met. You did not let personal feelings blind your judgment."

She meant it. In her former life, she had met many powerful men who would easily believe a beautiful, crying doctor over a wife they did not like. Damon had proven he was incredibly fair.

Camilla looked at his broad shoulders and his dark blue military uniform.

Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was quiet and completely honest.

"He’s actually not bad," Camilla admitted in her mind, feeling a very strange, new sense of appreciation for her grumpy husband. "He has a little conscience. He is beginning to actually pay attention to the truth. Seems Ida’s betrayal woke him up."

Damon stood perfectly still. He heard her think he was "not bad." He heard her appreciate him.

Since the mention of divorce, she had only thought of him as a monster, a tyrant, a grumpy man and a cold stone. This was the very first time she had ever thought of something truly good about him. The first time her thoughts did not insult him.

Damon felt a sudden, massive rush of warmth completely fill his chest. It was a very satisfying feeling.

Damon puffed his chest out slightly. He stood even taller. His broad shoulders pulled back with male pride. His wife had just complimented him sincerely, both out loud and in the absolute privacy of her own mind. It made him feel incredibly powerful.

Damon looked at her smiling face. He decided to reward her for her good behavior.

"Weren’t you bored?" Damon spoke smoothly. His deep voice was calm and surprisingly gentle.

He took a step toward the desk.

"Come," Damon invited her.

He reached across the space between them. He stretched out his large right hand toward her, holding his palm completely open, waiting for her to take it.

Camilla looked at his large hand. She blinked in surprise.

She walked slowly from behind the table. She moved towards him, her dress sweeping softly against the floor.

She stopped just a few inches away from his outstretched hand.

Camilla thought to herself. Her internal voice was filled with deep suspicion and high caution.

"What is he planning?" Camilla wondered frantically in her mind. "Where is he taking me? Is he going to lock me in a cell for breaking the rules? Is this a trick?"

Despite her strong, internal doubts, she did not want to ruin the rare, peaceful moment between them.

She slowly raised her arm. She reluctantly took his hand.

Her soft, pale fingers rested gently in his large, calloused palm. Damon closed his fingers securely around her hand. His grip was completely firm, but it was not painful like it had been under the dining table last night. It was a protective hold.

Damon turned around. He led her directly out of the quiet command tent.

They walked together into the bright, hot sun. The soldiers in the camp stopped their duties and bowed deeply as the General and his wife walked past them hand in hand.

Damon led her firmly toward a large, open field at the very edge of the military camp.

It was the archery grounds.

There were several large, round targets made of thick, tightly woven straw set up at the far end of the field. The ground was covered in dry dust and scattered with wooden arrows.

As Camilla walked onto the field, her eyes widened in absolute shock.

She saw Mildred.

The young medical assistant was completely tied up. Thick ropes bound her arms and legs tightly to the wooden post of the largest archery target. A cloth was tied securely around her mouth, completely gagging her and preventing her from screaming for help or pleading for mercy.

And resting perfectly still on the very top of Mildred’s messy brown hair was a single, bright red apple.

Mildred’s eyes were wide with terror. Tears were streaming rapidly down her pale face, soaking into the cloth gag. She was shaking so violently that the red apple on her head wobbled slightly.

Kade stood quietly a few feet away. He was holding Damon’s personal weapon.

He walked forward, bowed respectfully and brought out Damon’s dark wooden bow and a long leather quiver filled with sharp, deadly arrows. He handed the weapons to the General.

Damon took the bow. He tested the string with his fingers. It made a sharp, tight snapping sound.

Damon let go of Camilla’s hand. He stepped smoothly around her.

He stood directly behind Camilla.

He was so incredibly close to her that Camilla could feel the solid, hard heat of his muscular chest pressing lightly against her back. She could feel his slow, steady breathing brushing the top of her red hair.

"Hold this," Damon instructed softly.

He reached around her. He placed the wooden grip of the bow directly into Camilla’s left hand. He covered her small hand with his large, leather-gloved hand, helping her support the weight of the weapon.

Then, Damon reached into the leather quiver with his right hand. He pulled out a long, sharp arrow with white feathers.