Silence filled the room.
Lucien's grip tightened for a brief second—
Then loosened.
Slowly… deliberately… he pulled the blade away from Elian's throat, pocketing it.
Elian sucked in a sharp breath, his chest heaving as he remained pinned against the door, his pulse racing wildly beneath his skin.
He watched as Lucien stepped back.
And just like that—
Something shifted.
Gone was the suffocating pressure.
Gone was the raw, violent edge.
In its place…
Calm.
Controlled.
Composed.
"Enter," Lucien called, his voice smooth—too smooth.
The door opened gently, forcing Elian to step away from it, his pulse racing with curiosity and fear.
And she walked in.
Princess Rowena.
She moved with quiet grace, her presence soft yet commanding, her green gown flowing lightly with each step she took into the room. The candlelight caught in her dark hair, giving her an almost ethereal glow.
Elian's breath hitched.
She was…
Beautiful.
Not in the way that demanded attention—
But in the way that held it effortlessly.
He had never seen the princess this close before.
The rumors of her otherworldly beauty paled in comparison to how breathtaking she was.
She had called Lucien "my love." Does that mean…
He didn't care about whatever they were. It was just a pity he was going to kill the princess's lover in the end.
Rowena's eyes landed on Lucien first.
Then—they shifted.
To Elian.
And widened slightly.
Concern.
Confusion.
A flicker of something unspoken.
"Lucien…" she said softly, her gaze lingering on the blood at Elian's throat.
Lucien turned to her.
And smiled.
Elian froze.
That smile—it was different.
Subtle.
Refined.
Almost… gentle.
"My apologies, Princess," Lucien said calmly, stepping away from Elian as though nothing had happened. "A minor matter that required correction."
Elian's brows furrowed faintly.
Correction?
His fingers curled at his sides.
That wasn't the same man.
The one who had just held a blade to his throat—
Who had been ready to end his life—
Would not speak like that.
Would not look like that.
Rowena stepped closer, her gaze shifting between the two men.
"He's injured," she said, her voice softer now, laced with concern. "Should he even be standing?" Her eyes scanned Elian's body, worry visible in them.
Lucien's eyes flickered briefly to Elian.
Then back to her.
"He is more resilient than he appears," Lucien replied smoothly.
Elian clenched his jaw.
Resilient?
His vision was still spinning.
His body barely held together.
Yet—
Lucien spoke of him like he was… nothing.
Or worse—
Like he was something to be studied.
Elian's gaze lifted slightly.
Just enough.
He looked at Lucien.
Really looked.
The smile was still there.
The posture relaxed.
The tone calm.
Perfect.
But his eyes—
Cold.
Sharp.
Watching.
Not her.
Him.
Elian felt it.
The strange weight.
That strange presence.
Unchanged.
Hidden.
"Come," Lucien said, offering his hand to Rowena.
She hesitated for the briefest moment before placing her hand in his.
Elian's chest tightened.
Not from pain.
From something else.
Something he didn't understand.
Lucien's gloved fingers closed gently around hers.
Careful.
Measured.
Like everything else about him.
"Pay him no mind," Lucien added lightly. "He will be dealt with."
Elian's lips pressed into a thin line.
Dealt with.
Of course.
Rowena glanced at Elian one last time.
There was something in her eyes—
Something that didn't quite sit right.
Not pity.
Not fully.
But… awareness.
Then she allowed Lucien to guide her further into the room.
Elian stood there.
Bleeding.
Breathing.
Watching.
And for the first time—
Doubting.
Not his hatred.
Never that.
But the man standing before him.
Because the monster he had seen moments ago…
And the man beside the princess now—
Were not the same.
And yet…
They were.
He watched Lucien settle the princess beside the fireplace, and then he froze.
Lucien was looking at him, right into his eyes.
Out of Rowena's scrutiny, Lucien's eyes flashed with hatred and loathing, silently promising more pain.
"You did not inform me of your visit," Lucien spoke softly, never taking his eyes away from Elian.
"Why? Do you not want me here?" Rowena asked, tilting her head slightly.
"No, Princess," Lucien smiled, his green eyes softening as he shifted his gaze to Rowena. "I would have sent my special carriage to escort you here." He lifted her delicate hands and kissed the back of one.
Rowena flushed, her head turning toward Elian as she suddenly realized they had company.
"You can leave, servant. You're dismissed," Rowena said to Elian, her tone calm.
Elian didn't wait to be told twice and immediately turned to leave.
"Stop."
Lucien's voice halted Elian in his tracks.
Elian staggered to regain his footing, leaning his back against the door as he once more turned to face Lucien.
"Yes... Your Grace," he managed a weak reply, forcing his eyes to the ground.
He realized the Duke was pretending to be noble in front of the princess. He was just helping him perfect his act... for now. Until the time came for him to show the whole kingdom just how evil their Duke was.
"He's not to be let free, Princess. He's a danger to us all. I will see him out... for your safety," Lucien told Rowena in a serious tone.
"Oh? Please do, my love. Thank you," she replied, sending Elian a dismissive look.
What the hell was he talking about?! A danger to who?
Elian gulped as Lucien walked over to him in long, elegant strides.
Lucien's shadow cast over the slouched boy, his brows knitting together when he saw Elian lowering his head to purposefully cover his face with his curly hair.
Blood still dripped onto the floor from Elian's neck, and he wondered if it would have been Elian's head rolling on his floor if Rowena hadn't interrupted them.
"Turn around, Young Morel," Lucien whispered.
Elian gulped, nodding slowly.
Grunting, he turned himself to face the door.
Lucien moved as if he was about to reach for the door from Elian's side, but he did nothing.
He simply stood, lingering just slightly too long behind Elian, watching him, reading him, learning him.
Elian wasn't so sure which one he was going to pass out from—the pain tearing brutally through his body, or Lucien's suppressing presence behind him.
Just when he was about to black out from the tension, Lucien's voice anchored him.
"Open the door, Young Morel," Lucien instructed calmly.
Elian shuddered as he sighed.
He was almost suffocating.
With shaky, blood-stained fingers, he reached for the knob, twisting and pulling it open.
To get the door fully open, Elian needed to step back, and when he did, he was almost consumed by the heat from Lucien's body.
Quickly, he limped out of the solar, needing to get as far away from the devil as possible.
But Lucien was right behind him.
"Follow," Lucien said as he walked past the limping boy.
It was anguish going down those long stairs. Each step was accompanied by a deep, painful groan as every one of Elian's joints screeched from unending torment.
He did not stop.
He climbed down into the grand hall and followed Lucien toward the hallway that led to his private study—the first place they had met privately.
Elian was scared.
Was he being led to be finished off?
Maybe Lucien didn't want the princess to witness him committing murder.
He suddenly stopped walking when he saw Lucien simply standing in the hallway.
Elian watched Lucien, wondering what evil the Duke was up to.
"Finn," Lucien called calmly.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Elian heard a voice answer from the end of the hallway.
Quiet.
Composed.
Who was that?
He heard footsteps approaching Lucien and lifted his eyes to see who it was.
"I'm here, Your Grace," Finn appeared, a young guard with graceful features.
Elian narrowed his eyes.
He had never seen this guard before.
Was Finn even fit to be a guard?
Finn was just as built as Elian—slim.
How could he guard the Duke looking like that?
"Escort the traitor to the stables. Chain his wrists to a stall. It'll be your head if he escapes—"
He was suddenly interrupted by the loud growl of Elian's stomach.
Elian immediately lowered his head as he saw Lucien snap his head his way.
"I apologize, Your Grace," he murmured.
He could feel Lucien's eyes slowly running over him, and he didn't need to look up to know that the look was filled with hate.
"I understand, Your Grace," Finn spoke quietly, nodding his head.
Lucien frowned, taking his eyes away from Elian.
Without another word, he walked away.
Elian might have imagined it, but as Lucien reached his side, he paused for the briefest second to take a better look at Elian before leaving as if nothing had happened.
"Go," Finn said to Elian, standing in front of him with an unreadable look.
Elian sighed, the reopened cut on his neck tightening and pulling painfully as he tried to look at Finn.
The young guard didn't have a sword like the others; he simply wore the uniform with the Valemont badge on his shoulder.
Perhaps he was simply a messenger.
"I can stand here and let you do your assessment all night, but that would warrant my head on a plate by morning. So, please, move. To the stables," Finn said, gesturing toward the exit behind Elian.
Elian blinked.
He noted one thing.
Finn wasn't as forceful as the others.
Was this a weak link?
His chance of executing his plan?
Slowly, he turned and started limping toward the large doors.
Outside, the sky was clear again, the moon shining brightly and casting Elian's shadow against the long stairs as he limped down.
Finn kept his face straight, watching Elian struggle to walk with no visible reaction.
The silence between them was thick.
Elian could not wait to rid himself of the young guard.
Away from the stone-walled mansion, Finn slowly neared Elian, offering his hand.
"I can help you," Finn said.
Elian paused, staring at Finn's hand, and then at his face.
He studied those brown eyes for a moment, wishing he could read a person just by looking into them.
"I made it this far on my own. I'm fine," Elian murmured and continued his limping journey.
Elian could not trust Finn.
In the whole of the Valtheris Kingdom, Finn was the only one who had offered help since his father's execution.
That kind of enemy was more dangerous than Edgar, who showed you exactly how much he hated him and was willing to kill him.
He wasn't taking that helping hand.
He wasn't touching Finn.
"I know who you are," Finn's words halted Elian in his tracks.
Elian froze.
For a second, his pain was forgotten—
And what remained was fear,
reaching its hand deep into his soul.