Reincarnated as the Villainess's Unlucky Bodyguard-Chapter 221: Strategy

Enara woke to the sound of quiet voices outside her chamber and the faint scent of blood and incense still clinging to the air. It was always there now. No matter how many purification spells the servants performed, no matter how many lavender satchels were tucked beneath the cushions, that scent lingered thick and metallic and laced with the memory of fire.

The war was moving closer. She could feel it in her bones before anyone said a word.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the ache in her shoulder the one she'd earned during the last skirmish, the one she'd refused to let the healers treat properly because she couldn't afford the time. There were too many moving parts, too many risks, and now too many people in this castle who had begun looking to her for answers she didn't yet have.

The morning light bled in through the tall, arched window red-gold and flickering like something aflame. It lit the obsidian tiles beneath her feet and threw long, jagged shadows across the wall. A cruel imitation of warmth.

She dressed quickly, choosing the black battle tunic with the reinforced leather across the ribs. Her swordbelt slid into place with a practiced movement. She hesitated only once, fingers brushing the edge of the mirror on her dresser. For a moment she imagined a different reflection one where Liria stood beside her, straightening her collar, complaining about early meetings, maybe brushing Enara's hand just a second too long.

Her gut twisted.

She stepped away before the ache could catch up to her.

The council chamber was already full when she arrived. Verida sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, her expression that familiar mix of proud and perpetually irritated. Nyssara was next to her, quietly pouring over a map like she was personally willing the terrain to shift in their favor. Daena leaned back in her seat, chewing absently on something that might have once been part of a monster. Ananara was reclining on a velvet pillow placed far too regally in the corner, sipping from a crystal goblet like he owned the place which, to be fair, he seemed to think he did.

And of course… Kael.

"Morning!" he said brightly when Enara entered, flashing that hero smile. The one that seemed entirely genuine and therefore offended her on some deep, molecular level.

She gave him a curt nod. "You're early."

"I like to be prepared," he said, with the audacity of a golden retriever and none of the self-awareness.

"You also like to talk about Liria before breakfast," she muttered as she took her seat.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

Kael frowned for a moment but let it slide, which only annoyed her more.

Nyssara cleared her throat delicately. "We've confirmed movement along the obsidian ridge. Azael's forces are constructing siege totems large ones. She's preparing to level the capital in one strike."

Verida nodded grimly. "She's not interested in conquering anymore. She wants annihilation."

"Because she's losing control," Enara said, fingers drumming against the table. "She's afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Kael asked.

Enara didn't answer right away.

Mostly because the list of things she was afraid of was getting a bit out of hand.

She was afraid of Azael, obviously anyone with functioning instincts was. She was afraid of what might happen if they failed to destroy her. Afraid of losing more territory, more soldiers, more pieces of her home.

But more than that, more than all the tactical horrors and political disasters piling up like a flaming tower of stress, she was afraid of Liria.

No afraid for her. That was the difference. That was the terrible, fragile truth she didn't want to say out loud. Because if she said it, it would be real. More real than the ache in her chest or the fury in her bones.

So instead, she took a slow breath, crossed her arms, and said the only thing that didn't sound like heartbreak.

"I'm afraid she's gone."

Kael frowned. "Gone like—dead?"

"No," Enara muttered, gaze hardening as she looked out the high window of the war chamber. The light outside was dim with ash again, the horizon stained with reddish clouds. "Worse. I'm afraid she's not coming back."

Kael shifted behind her. "She's being controlled. You said that yourself."

"Yes," she said flatly. "And every day she stays under that thing's grip, she gets further from who she was. From who I—"

She stopped. Cut the thought off before it bloomed into something soft and dangerous.

Kael was quiet a moment, then stepped closer. "I saw something in her eyes, Enara. I swear I did. It wasn't just Azael's shadow magic. There was pain. There was awareness."

"I know," Enara said tightly. "But looking isn't the same as coming back."

Kael didn't reply.

That silence was worse than arguing. It filled the space between them like smoke, curling through all the things left unsaid.

She knew Kael wasn't trying to make her feel worse. That was part of the problem. He was too good. Too noble. Too… glowing. She hated how much he believed in Liria. Not because he was wrong. But because it reminded her of how it used to feel believing in someone so much that even the whole world burning around you didn't matter, because you still had them.

Liria used to look at her like that.

Now she didn't look at her at all.

"I think," Kael said carefully, "that if anyone could break free of Azael's control, it would be her."

Enara turned to him sharply. "And what makes you so sure?"

Kael didn't flinch. "Because she's still fighting. I can feel it."

Her jaw clenched. "You don't know her."

Kael blinked. "I'm trying to."

"Don't."

That word came out sharper than she meant it to, and Kael's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to know her," she snapped. "Don't talk about her like you've spent years watching her grow into someone powerful and clever and absolutely impossible. Like you understand her."

Kael took a cautious step back. "Okay… I think I've missed something here."

Enara exhaled through her nose and turned away. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"The… knight in shining armor thing," she said, waving vaguely in his direction. "With your stupid sword and your stupid good intentions and your face. It's annoying."

"My face is annoying?"

"Yes. It's very… sincere."

Kael blinked. "Wow. You really don't like me, huh?"

"I don't know you," she said stiffly. "And I don't like that you talk about her like she's already yours."

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to."

She met his eyes then, and to his credit, he didn't look away.

"I've seen that look before," she said, voice lower now. "The way you talk about her. Like she's some lost princess you're going to save. Like her heart is just waiting to be claimed by the first fool with a sword and good hair."

Kael raised a hand. "Okay, the hair is not my fault."

Enara didn't laugh. Not really. But her mouth twitched, which was as close as she got these days.

"Look," Kael said more gently, "I'm not trying to replace anything. I'm just trying to help."

"I know," Enara said, because she did. That was the worst part. "And thank you. Truly. For what you did back there. You saved our lives. You might be the reason we even have a plan."

Kael's face softened, but Enara cut him off before he could say something heroic.

"But," she said sharply, "if you so much as sigh longingly in her direction again, I will hex your boots to bite you every third step."

Kael blinked. "That's oddly specific."

"You're not the first."

He looked horrified. "You've cursed other people's boots?"

"Some of them deserved it."

Kael opened his mouth, paused, then wisely closed it again.

"Good choice," she said, then turned back toward the war table where her mothers were already laying out new maps, new markers, new long-shot hopes disguised as strategies.

The doors opened behind her, and Daena entered with a scowl and a scroll tucked under one arm. Ananara floated behind her in a tiny fruit-sized levitation circle, sipping some unholy demon-berry juice through a ridiculous paper straw.

"Oh, good," the pineapple said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Still not stabbing the hero. We're making progress."

"Barely," Daena muttered. "Can we talk about something useful now? Like the forty-seven ways this next mission could kill us?"

Nyssara nodded from the far end of the table. "Indeed. We've received new intelligence. One of the scouts spotted the edge of Azael's latest construct a tower made of bone and black crystal. It's pulsing with unstable magic."

"That's definitely not ominous," Kael said.

Verida growled low in her throat. "We burn it down."

"Carefully," Nyssara amended. "If it's housing the control nexus, we may be able to sever part of Azael's network before she reinfor—"

Suddenly, the crystal on the table flared—an alert rune. A single pulse of energy, brief but distinct.

Everyone froze.

"What was that?" Enara asked.

Nyssara frowned, turning toward the crystal. "It's from the magical sensor we left on the battlefield. The one attuned to trace shadow magic fluctuations."

"It's not supposed to activate unless—" Verida began.

"Unless Azael's magic shifted," Daena finished grimly.

Enara's heart stopped.

"No," she whispered. "Not another attack."

"No," Nyssara said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Not more magic."

"Less," said Daena. "There was a drop."

The room fell still.

A drop.

A drop in Azael's magical grip.

"Could it be her army?" Kael asked. "Maybe she's moved them?"

"No," Enara said, voice low. "The sensor wasn't attuned to her army. It was attuned to her. To her control."

Everyone looked at each other, the silence thick with disbelief.

And then Ananara snorted.

"Oh, she wiggled, didn't she?"

Enara turned. "What?"

"Liria," the pineapple said smugly. "Your terrifying little shadow-bride. She twitched. Slipped the leash for half a second."

Nyssara nodded slowly. "It's possible. The sensor only reacts to distortions in sustained enchantments. That drop could've been internal."

"She's breaking free," Kael whispered, eyes wide.

Enara felt her heart rise into her throat.

She's fighting.

It was like watching a candle spark to life in the darkest hall—tiny, frail, but undeniably burning.

"Then we move," Enara said, her voice steel. "Now."

"But" Kael started.

"She's trying," Enara snapped. "We're not letting her fight this alone."