Semua Bab Game of hearts: The Ruthless Alpha and his warrior bride : Bab 181 - Bab 190

EdgarDawn broke over the battlements like a thin promise, light spreading hesitantly across snow-laden slopes. The enemy had withdrawn overnight, but their absence was not relief. It was anticipation. I could feel it in the slope beneath my boots, in the way the wind whispered across the walls, in the tenseness of every soldier who moved silently, checking weapons, scanning the horizon. The calm before a storm was always sharper than the storm itself.Hale appeared beside me, cloak pulled tight against the cold, eyes on the distant ridges. “Northern push seems lighter today,” he said cautiously. “I think they’re regrouping, testing morale.”“They will overreach,” I replied. My voice was low, measured. “Every time. Desperation always reveals weakness. Observation is everything. Control is everything. Fear can be a weapon if wielded correctly. And they are about to hand us that weapon.”I traced the horizon with my gaze, imagining the enemy’s movements, projecting their missteps. The

Celeste The morning mist clung stubbornly to the forest floor, curling around roots and boughs, turning everything it touched into shapes that seemed almost alive. I moved slowly, deliberately, letting the soldiers behind me fall into rhythm. Each step was careful, measured; each breath drawn deep, steady, controlled.We had held the ridge overnight, contained the enemy, and watched them retreat, but their absence didn’t ease the tension. Silence in war was always a lie. I could feel it, heavy in my chest, pressing down on my shoulders as I stepped over frozen roots and angled rocks.“Mist is thick today,” Mara whispered beside me, voice low. “Could make archers’ aim harder.”“Or make their approach easier,” I said, scanning the folds of the ridge, the shadows curling between trees. “They’ll think it hides them. It doesn’t. Shadows are predictable if you’re patient.”The soldiers moved quietly behind us, weapons ready, faces pale but focused. Fear had not gone anywhere—it had been re

Celeste The sun had not yet risen, but the pale light of dawn seeped into the edges of the forest, casting long, cold shadows across the ridge. The air was sharp with frost, biting through the layers of my cloak and making every breath sting. I moved slowly, deliberately, along the narrow path, feeling the ridge’s subtle angles under my boots, listening to the faint crackle of ice and snow.The night had been quiet, too quiet. There had been no attacks, no movement from the enemy beyond the occasional whisper of distant soldiers, but I knew better than to trust silence. Every lull carried the weight of anticipation. Every shadow could conceal danger.Behind me, the soldiers followed in careful alignment, weapons at the ready, eyes scanning for the slightest anomaly. Fear had not vanished; it had been refined into focus. That precision, that awareness, was our advantage. One misstep, one moment of hesitation, could be costly.“Mist is thick,” Mara whispered beside me. “Could make aim

Celeste Night didn’t fall so much as it faded in.The clouds swallowed the moon, and the world turned to layers of charcoal and ash. Snow stopped shining and started swallowing light, leaving the ridge outlined only by the faint glow of shielded braziers and the low red pulse of buried coals.I stayed on the crest through first watch, boots numb, fingers stiff inside my gloves.Below us, the enemy camp looked different than it had before. Not closer — just wider. Fires placed with care, not for warmth but for spacing. Lines where there had been clusters. Order settling into the dark.They were shifting their weight.Mara came back with the watch report tucked into her belt, her breath fogging between us.“Western slope’s gone quiet,” she said. “No patrol sounds.”“They pulled farther back,” I replied, eyes still scanning. “Making space.”“For what?”I watched a group of silhouettes far below dragging something long across the snow, moving slow, deliberate.“Lanes,” I said. “They’re c

Celeste Night did not end so much as loosen its grip. The darkness thinned in layers, retreating from the ridge inch by inch as the sky shifted from black to slate. Clouds still clung low, but there was a sense of movement now, a subtle stirring, like the world stretching before pain returned. I hadn’t slept. Not properly. Not at all, if truth mattered. I’d closed my eyes once, leaning against the stone outcrop that marked the ridge’s highest point, but the moment my breathing slowed, my mind surged forward again, counting supplies, tracing enemy lanes, replaying the sound of shields striking snow-packed ground. Endurance didn’t come from rest. It came from refusal. Below us, the enemy camp woke early. Fires were banked rather than extinguished, embers coaxed back to life with careful hands. Men moved between trenches and half-built frames, passing tools, carrying timber, reinforcing the low snow walls they’d shaped the day before. No panic. No rush. Confidence looked a lot