Camilla slowly nodded her head. She kept her body relaxed against the rough canvas wall of the tent. She looked up at his face.

She thought to herself, her internal voice sounding very quiet and deeply observant.

"Look at his eyes," Camilla thought.

Damon, who was listening to her thoughts perfectly, felt a sudden, massive surge of pride. He stood up a little straighter. His broad shoulders pulled back, and he puffed his chest out slightly. He expected her to think of a very sweet, highly romantic compliment. He thought she was going to think about how handsome he was, or how safe she felt in his strong arms, or how much she loved his dark brown eyes. After all, he had just saved her from a public scene, wiped her tears, and held her very gently.

But the table flipped completely and aggressively in the next second.

"What a completely naive boy," Camilla’s thoughts suddenly declared, her internal voice turning incredibly cold, mocking, and full of deep amusement.

Damon’s eyes widened slightly.

"He is so incredibly gullible," Camilla’s mind laughed ruthlessly at him. "With just a few fake tears and a sad, trembling voice, he is already feeling completely sorry for me. He actually thinks I am a fragile, helpless noblewoman who couldn’t even afford to hire a private master. How completely pathetic."

She let out a silent, highly amused mental snort.

"If I ever run out of gold," Camilla planned happily in her head, "I can easily make a fortune. I will just take this handsome, foolish husband of mine and sell him directly to a high-end male brothel in the capital city. He has such a perfectly built body and a pretty face. The wealthy ladies would pay a mountain of gold just to look at him. And he is so gullible, he would probably be too happy to count the heavy bags of money for me while I walk away."

Damon completely froze.

His hand, which had been resting so gently on her cheekbone, began to tremble slightly from pure, unadulterated shock and massive, deeply wounded male pride.

"A male brothel?" Damon thought to himself, his mind completely failing to process the scandalous, highly disrespectful words. "She wants to sell me? The commanding General of the Benson Army? To a brothel? Just like that? You never seize to amaze me, Camilla."

His ears turned a very bright, burning shade of hot red. He felt a wave of intense heat rush straight up his neck to his cheeks. He wanted to shake her by the shoulders. He wanted to tell her that he was not naive, and he was certainly not a foolish boy who could be sold for gold coins. But he couldn’t say a single word without exposing his mind-reading secret. He had to endure the insult in complete, painful silence.

Damon quickly pulled his hand away from her cheek, as if her skin had suddenly turned into hot iron. He took a large step backward, creating a safe amount of physical distance between them. He needed to clear his head. He needed to stop her from thinking about selling him to wealthy capital ladies.

Damon cleared his throat very loudly.

AHEM.

The harsh, scraping sound was slightly strained, but it successfully snapped Camilla out of her deep, mocking thoughts.

Camilla blinked her eyes rapidly. The cold, calculating look instantly vanished from her face. She put her sweet, cute, innocent mask back on. She looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, acting like a devoted, fragile wife once again.

Damon forced his face to become cold. He crossed his strong arms over his chest, trying to look fully in command of the situation. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"So what skills have you learnt so far?" Damon asked. His deep voice was flat, calm, and completely devoid of any warmth. He wanted to test her. He had watched her defeat her opponent so fast, and he wanted to hear how she would lie about it.

Camilla did not answer him with a serious explanation. She knew she had used advanced combat moves, and she had to pretend it was all just a silly accident.

She let out a soft, nervous chuckle.

Heh, heh.Heh...

She stepped forward, moving back into his personal space. She raised her small, pale hand. With a playful, highly affectionate gesture, she lightly hit him on his broad shoulder, acting like a cute, teasing wife.

"Why should I tell you, My Lord?" Camilla asked sweetly. She tilted her head to the side, letting her messy brown wig bounce slightly. She put a very soft, playful pout on her pink lips. "It won’t be a wonderful surprise anymore if I just tell you everything right now. You must be patient."

Damon did not look at her cute face.

He slowly lowered his eyes. He looked down at the exact spot on his shoulder where her hand had just landed.

Damon’s military coat was made of a very expensive, pristine dark blue wool. But Camilla had just spent thirty minutes rolling around in the dusty training ring, holding a dirty wooden practice sword, and touching the rough canvas of the supply tents. Her hands were covered in grey dirt, white chalk, and dust.

Where her hand had hit his shoulder, she had left a very clear visible grey palm print.

The dusty handprint stood out brightly against the dark blue fabric of his pristine uniform.

Damon stared at the mark. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Camilla slowly followed his gaze. She looked down at his shoulder. She saw the dusty outline of her own hand printed clearly on his expensive coat.

Her cute, playful smile froze for a split second. She looked at his serious face, and then she looked back at the dirty mark. She realized she had just ruined his uniform.

Camilla let out another soft, very nervous chuckle.

"Oh," Camilla said out loud, making her voice sound deeply apologetic and sweet. "I’m so sorry, My Lord. I didn’t realize my hands were so dirty. I made your beautiful coat dirty. I will clean it off for you."