Chapter 67: [Ester Deathstrike is confused by her own feelings]

The road opened up before them again.

The snow fell lighter, in scattered flakes that landed on shoulders and hoods like small white embers, slowly melting. The silence of the road seemed almost welcome after the raucous spectacle of the young redhead and her broken carriage. Damon rode at his usual pace, relaxed in the saddle, his lance resting on his shoulder, as if the explosion minutes ago had been nothing more than another minor setback.

Ester, on the other hand, held the reins steady. Her blue eyes fixed on the horizon, but her mind was not there.

She relived every detail.

That irritating girl—so loud, so useless. Ester felt sick just thinking about the noblewoman’s futility and feigned despair. And yet, it wasn’t the girl who stole her concentration. It was Damon.

More specifically… Damon hugging her.

She felt heat rise to her face, even in the biting cold. The memory was all too clear: his firm arms pinning her from behind, preventing her from moving forward. The unexpected, direct, warm contact. And the way she froze—not willingly, but out of sheer shock.

She hated it.

She took a deep breath, as if the frigid air could erase the memory, but the more she tried to push it away, the more it replayed in her mind. His grip hadn’t been hesitant. It had been…decisive. As if he had the authority to stop her. As if he were taming something that was out of control.

Man.

The word flashed through her mind, dry, incisive. And immediately she rejected it, pressing her lips together.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered to herself, inaudibly. Damon was nothing but a rude fool, always mocking, always ready to provoke her. There was no merit in his actions. And yet…

He had kept his gaze fixed on the redhead. He had silenced the girl as no one would ever dare.

And he had ordered her, Esther, to use her powers—and she obeyed.

The blush rose again, faint, but enough to bother her. Obeying wasn’t something she did. Not to just anyone. But now, for some reason, her will gave way. Maybe it was just logic—getting this scene over with. Yes, that was it. Just logic.

But she couldn’t erase from her mind the image of him behind her, holding her.

“Damn him…” she thought, gritting her teeth.

Meanwhile, Damon seemed oblivious to the silent battle she was waging within herself. He whistled softly, almost as if mocking the silence between them. The black horse snorted from time to time, the sound echoing through the icy valley.

After a few minutes, Damon broke the silence after seeing a certain notification…

[Ester Deathstrike is confused by her own feelings]

A cue…

“You’re too quiet, Ester,” he said lazily. “Normally, you would have already blasted me with three different lectures.”

She took a deep breath, composing herself. When she answered, her voice was firm, but there was a note of harshness more than usual:

“I see no reason to waste words on you.”

Damon smirked, without turning around. “Ah… so you’re thinking. That’s even more dangerous.”

Ester looked away toward the pines, as if the wind carried something interesting. She wouldn’t admit it. Never.

But Damon knew her well enough to notice. He chuckled softly.

“I bet you’re remembering the hug.”

The blush that was already on her face burned brighter.

“Shut up, Damon,” she replied immediately, too dryly.

He laughed louder this time, pleased with the reaction.

“Then I got it.”

Ester tightened her grip on the reins. The horse sensed the tension and snorted, but she controlled it effortlessly. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, trying to appear indifferent. But inside, her heart was beating faster, irritatingly faster.

She hated how he disarmed her. With just a few words.

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” she murmured coldly.

“Yes, I do,” Damon replied, his tone surprisingly calm, almost serious. “You were going to freeze that girl. I saw it in your eyes.”

Ester remained silent.

“I only held you back because I knew you would lose control,” he continued. “And losing control… doesn’t suit you, does it?”

Those words struck deep. Deeper than Ester would have liked. She had always prided herself on her discipline, on her coolness. But he had seen her hesitate. And, worse, he had restrained her.

She swallowed. “You didn’t have to touch me.”

Damon arched his eyebrow, glancing at her sideways with a half-smile. “Ah… so that’s what bothers you.”

She looked away, remaining rigid.

“You’re insufferable,” she said simply.

“And yet you didn’t freeze me,” he countered, laughing.

The silence returned, but this time heavier. Ester knew he had won this little exchange. And she hated to admit, even to herself, that… part of her hadn’t wanted to let go at that moment.

The memories came flooding back, as if her body were imprinting the warmth and firmness of his embrace. This was dangerous. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by things so… human.

She took a deep breath, adjusting her cloak on her shoulders, trying to banish the feeling.

But with each step of the horse, the scene returned.

And worst of all: his voice echoed in her mind, firm, harsh, holding her not just with his arms, but with authority.

Man.

The word returned, this time heavier, harder to push away.

Ester closed her eyes for a moment, ashamed of herself.

“No,” she thought, “this is ridiculous. I won’t let it affect me.”

When she opened them again, the outline of towers began to appear on the horizon, rising above the snow and trees. The next city. Salvation for her troubled mind.

She straightened her posture, firm, as if the chill of the wind were enough to erase any memory.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t.

She knew that, no matter how hard she tried, that scene would continue to haunt her.

And most humiliating of all… was the persistent blush on her face, burning beneath her cold skin.

Damon, of course, noticed. And just smirked, saying nothing.

For now.

“So, what are we going to do?” he asked.

“Let’s just go to the next town, and then to the next, and the next to the dukedom.” She said seriously.

“Okay, let’s go.”

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