Chapter 10

“Excuse me?” Cura blinked her eyes in surprise, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Why do you believe that?” 

“Well,” Elena began, her voice thoughtful, “it’s just that every time I encounter the Grand Duke, his pheromones are so potent that it leaves me breathless. I used to attribute it to nervousness, but it doesn’t seem to be the case.” 

Suddenly, Cura burst into laughter, her mirth filling the air around them.

“Cura?” Elena watched her friend with a puzzled expression, noticing the freckles dancing across her nose and cheeks as she laughed uncontrollably.

Cura, tears forming in her eyes from the laughter, wiped them away and managed to stifle her giggles. “You have no idea, Elena! You still haven’t seen what the Grand Duke is like when he’s truly angry. When he’s furious, no one dares to approach him. Sometimes, his pheromones are so overwhelming that he can barely breathe…”

Cura paused, shivering at the memory. “If you ever happen to be the cause of his anger, he could be utterly merciless. I don’t think he’s that severe with his own kind, but when it comes to other races, he shows no mercy—be it a woman, a child, or an elderly person. I even heard that he wiped out the entire White Fox tribe when he conquered Terra Demorte.”

Even in ordinary circumstances, Kennard had always carried an air of formidable and intimidating presence about him. However, the notion of him as a ruthless tyrant, as Cura described, had never crossed Kennard’s mind. Instead, whenever he directed his piercing gaze at someone, it often yielded kindness and favor.

“So, when the Grand Duke appeared with you, Elena, it took everyone by surprise. Nobody could pinpoint which tribe you belonged to, and the fact that he looked after you,” Cura explained, “led people to gossip and wonder.”

“My tribe?” Elena questioned, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing upon her.

“There’s no tribe with red hair and gray irises. Elena, you emit a unique scent that even others can’t identify.”

Elena couldn’t help but be overcome by a sense of anonymity. She sighed deeply and buried her head in the pillow. A sudden headache washed over her, and her entire body felt heavy. Elena covered her forehead with her hand and closed her eyes.

“I might have divulged too much information all at once. Just rest for today,” Cura advised, tending to Elena’s sleeping area and adding more logs to the fireplace.

As the lamp in the bedroom was extinguished, Elena lay in the darkness with her eyes slowly reopening.

Who am I, truly? Why does the Grand Duke care for me when he knows nothing of my real identity? Is it even right for me to continue like this? She pondered, her mind inundated with countless thoughts and questions, her heart growing heavier with each passing moment.

Elena couldn’t shake the feeling that she was leading a life of comfort, relying on Kennard’s kindness without truly comprehending his underlying intentions.

“You still haven’t seen what the Grand Duke is like when he’s truly angry. When he’s furious, no one dares to approach him. Sometimes, his pheromones are so overwhelming that he can barely breathe…” Cura’s words echoed in her mind.

However, Elena couldn’t dismiss the imposing scent that always enveloped her in Kennard’s presence. While Kennard had entrusted her to Cura’s care, she felt that if she wished to continue residing here, she needed to find her own path.

***

“What are you up to?” Kennard’s gaze lifted from the parchment he was signing as he addressed Elena.

Despite ink dripping from the pen onto the parchment, Kennard didn’t divert his attention from her. As soon as Elena stepped into Kennard’s study, his scent enveloped her, as usual.

Elena pushed herself to move forward, despite being affected by Kennard’s pheromones and unwavering gaze. She did her utmost to appear unruffled, but it was far from easy.

The tea saucer sported a deep green hue, featuring a picturesque landscape of a serene lake and majestic mountains. Delicate flowers were meticulously engraved on the teacup. The teacup’s base was crafted from exquisite pottery, mirroring the landscape design found on the saucer.

As Elena brewed jasmine tea, its fragrant aroma filled the room.

“It’s jasmine tea. I thought you might enjoy it when you’re weary, so I prepared it,” Elena said, placing the saucer delicately in front of Kennard with both hands. Despite the simplicity of the gesture, her hands trembled slightly.

With each movement, the teacup and saucer emitted a faint clinking sound. Kennard regarded her with curiosity. “So, why did you bring this? And where are Serin and Lassino?”

Elena hadn’t yet met Serin, but she had exchanged pleasantries with Lassino earlier in the day. Lassino held the position closest to Kennard, and today, through Cura, Elena had made a request that seemed almost like a plea to serve Kennard’s tea.

“I inquired if I could serve your tea, Lord Kennard.”

“My tea? You? Why?” Kennard set down his pen and reclined in his study chair. His pumpkin-colored eyes, partially veiled by long eyelashes, gleamed with intrigue.

Elena swallowed nervously and averted her gaze, avoiding direct eye contact with Kennard. “You saved me, and you’ve allowed me to stay here. I feel a debt to you, and I want to do something in return,” she replied meekly.

Kennard leaned forward, his expression stern. “You’re doing something unnecessary. There’s no need for this. Return to your room.”

Elena remained resolute. “No. I won’t feel at ease if I don’t contribute in some way.”

“So, you wish to serve my tea?”

“Yes.”

With a heavy sigh, Kennard ran his fingers through the furrowed brow between his eyes, his thoughts hidden behind the gesture.

Kennard’s pheromones enveloped Elena like a turbulent whirlwind, momentarily blurring her vision and inducing dizziness. Nevertheless, she steeled herself against the sensation.

“Do you believe just anyone can serve my tea? Lassino hails from a lineage that has served as stewards to our royal family for generations. He was bred for stewardship from birth. Are you suggesting that you, rather than someone like him, should serve my tea?”

Elena’s voice remained earnest and unwavering. “I am aware of my limitations. I’m more than willing to learn under Lassino’s guidance. I’m prepared to undertake even the most modest and mundane tasks. Please, permit me to serve the Grand Duke’s tea. I implore you.” Elena lowered her head in deference to Kennard.

Though discomfort prickled at her back, she displayed no outward sign of pain. The form-fitting dress she wore, starting from her chest and descending to her waist, forced her movements to feel somewhat unnatural. Until this point, she had exclusively worn flowing dresses that draped gently from her shoulders, avoiding contact with the wounds on her body.

Even though her current attire allowed for greater freedom of movement, the fabric still irritated her healing wounds, causing discomfort.

Perhaps it was too ambitious? Should I have offered to assist with the castle’s cleaning instead of serving the Grand Duke’s tea? she wondered. The alternative idea hadn’t entirely escaped her thoughts, but for some inexplicable reason, since she had made up her mind to contribute to the castle, her focus remained steadfast on serving Kennard’s tea.

“Raise your head,” Kennard’s voice cut through the air, cold as ice. Elena tightly shut her eyes.

Ding, ding. Kennard picked up the handbell from beside a stack of documents and shook it, producing a clear, echoing sound throughout the study.

“Your Highness, did you summon me?” Before the reverberations had fully dissipated, Lassino entered through the adjacent door leading to the study. The elderly head butler’s countenance remained composed, as if he had foreseen Kennard’s call.

“Lassino, have you heard about this matter too? Why did you take action without my permission or even my request?” Kennard’s voice was stern.

“I apologize.”

“You’ve exposed your role to just anyone. Does your position hold little worth?” Despite the absence of any physical threat, Kennard’s tone exuded menace, sending a shiver down Elena’s spine. Her legs felt weak, and she feared she might collapse at any moment.

“No, Your Highness. There’s no truth to that.”

“Return to Montefiano immediately.”

“Your Grace, I apologize. I simply believed it would be beneficial for Miss Elena to be by your side… I acted hastily.” Lassino bowed deeply.

Elena swiftly knelt before Kennard. “I’m sorry. I implored Mr. Lassino without thinking,” she confessed. Her throat felt as though it might dry up, and she couldn’t find words to respond to the Duke’s stern reprimand. But she saw no other option; she couldn’t bear to witness Lassino lose his position because of her.

Kennard’s sigh was accompanied by a weighty silence that hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Inside the study, it was as if the entire world had vanished, with even the softest breath muffled into oblivion. The stillness was so profound that it seemed to magnify the minute movements of dust particles suspended in the air, as though they, too, were making their presence known.

“What about Serin?” Kennard finally broke the silence with a question.

“He’s in the barracks, Your Grace,” Lassino replied promptly.

“If he learns of this, his response will likely be more severe than mine.”

“That’s quite likely, Your Grace,” Lassino concurred, bowing even deeper in acknowledgment.

Tap, tap. Kennard slowly tapped his fingertips on the desk. Elena’s lowered head prevented her from seeing his expression, her vision instead marred by a flaw in the carpet’s pattern.

“Lassino, go check.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” From Elena’s vantage point, Lassino vanished behind the imposing wooden desk as the sound of the door indicated his departure from the study.

“Stand up.”

Elena, confronted by Kennard’s leather boots nearly in front of her face, attempted to rise but found her legs trembling, rendering her unable to stand.

“You’ve stirred up quite a commotion,” Kennard grumbled with irritation, taking hold of Elena’s arms and gently raising her to her feet.

As Elena rose with both arms steadied, she did so hurriedly and accidentally stumbled forward, her foot entangling with the hem of her dress. The mishap led to her inadvertently burying her face in Kennard’s chest, her nose pressing against a golden button.

“Ouch,” she muttered in response, a twinge of pain resonating from the tip of her nose, causing an involuntary groan to escape her lips.