Chapter 133

“What are you doing?”

Kennard started in alarm and crossed the distance to Elena in an instant. He tried to lay her back down, but she shook her head in refusal. With a resigned sigh, he supported her until she could sit, then climbed onto the bed himself and let her lean against his shoulder. One arm wrapped around her, he brushed the hair that had fallen across her face back behind her ear.

Elena looked up at him in silence. Between the tousled black strands that nearly covered his brows, golden eyes glinted. They were warm as they rested on her, yet flashes of anger surfaced beneath, as though he were forcing himself to restrain his fury at the people protesting outside. Watching him, a dull ache spread through Elena’s chest.

“You must be exhausted,” Kennard said, his gaze lingering on the moisture in her eyes as he let out a quiet breath. “Why are you forcing yourself to move?”

“You must not kill them,” Elena said.

The words scraped their way out of her throat. A stinging pain followed, but she pressed on. “What happened to them is entirely my fault.”

Kennard frowned deeply. “Your fault? What do you mean by that?”

Elena steadied her breathing before she spoke again. She had no idea how much of what she was about to say anyone would believe.

“It’s all right,” Kennard added gently, noticing her glance toward the figures by the window. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Go on.”

“When I was taken by His Majesty, a priest of the White Fox Tribe was with him.”

“What?” Kennard’s body went rigid. “You mean the one with the grotesque markings carved into his face and body?”

This time, Elena was the one taken aback. “Yes. How did you know…?”

“I met him once, when I attended the White Fox Tribe’s sabbath in Terra Demorte,” Kennard said. His expression darkened with every word. “Did he harm you? Was he the one who left those wounds on you?”

As his features grew increasingly savage, Elena swallowed and nodded. The fury rolling off him was so intense it was almost tangible.

“If only I hadn’t let him escape,” Kennard muttered.

She did not know what had passed between him and Azis, but his rage was unmistakable.

“What did he do that makes this your fault?” Kennard asked again, forcing his anger back down.

Elena pressed a hand lightly over the injuries on her body. “He collected my blood.”

The instant the words left her mouth, a murderous pheromone surged from Kennard.

“He took your blood?” he growled. “For what purpose?”

A bestial rumble rose from deep in his throat.

“I lost consciousness after that, so I don’t know for certain,” Elena said quietly. “I only guessed after hearing what the people by the river said when I came to.”

“What did they say?”

“They said Duke Blade gave them something to drink. He told everyone gathered there to drink it.”

As she spoke, Elena felt as though her entire body were shrinking in on itself. Admitting that she was the source of all this was no easy thing. She feared Kennard might be disappointed in her, or worse, look at her the way the White Fox Tribe had and call her a witch. The memory of how her own biological father had treated her rose unbidden, and she hesitated.

What if Kennard wants to use my blood too?

The thought hurt more than it frightened her. To be betrayed and reduced to something to be used by the person she loved would be the cruelest thing imaginable. She considered changing her story, offering something vaguely similar instead of the truth, but her mind went blank.

She looked up at Kennard. Concern and affection were still clearly reflected in his eyes. If that gaze were to turn into contempt, she felt she would lose all reason to go on living.

“Elena?” Kennard prompted softly.

“I don’t know whether what they drank was water or alcohol,” she said at last. “But my blood must have been mixed into it.”

“What?” Kennard’s lips parted in shock. “You’re saying they drank your blood, and that’s why they’re moving as if they’re under mass hypnosis?”

“I know it sounds unbelievable, but it’s true,” Elena said. “My blood has the power to influence memories and thoughts. I didn’t cast any spell myself, so Azis must have done it.”

Her heart pounded wildly once she finished. She had no idea how much Kennard would believe, and even if he did, she did not know how he would see her afterward. He stared down at her as if time itself had stopped, not blinking or even breathing.

The longer his silence stretched, the tighter Elena’s chest became, as though someone were closing a hand around her throat. She waited tensely, unable to guess what he would say.

The first to react were the others who had stood listening in silence until now.

“Lady Elena,” Serin asked, eyes wide. “You can use sorcery? With your own blood?”

He braced a hand on his hip and rubbed the back of his neck roughly, muttering in disbelief.

“My god,” Benzef said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “What kind of madness is the Emperor orchestrating now?”

Curiously, his focus was not on Elena, but on the emperor himself. Only Argon remained silent, staring at Elena without looking away.

Elena lowered her gaze, unable to meet their eyes. If Kennard was looking at her the same way, she could not bear to see it. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for his silence to break.

After what felt like a long while, Kennard’s low voice finally reached her ears.

“Don’t tell me,” he said slowly. “Your memories came back.”

Elena opened her eyes. Kennard had drawn back from her slightly, and in the space where his warmth had been, cold air rushed in. She shivered.

She still did not have the courage to look at him.

Kennard gently took hold of her chin and lifted her face. “Elena, tell me. You remembered everything, didn’t you?”

His eyes wavered between his long lashes. There was no shock there, no contempt. Instead, his expression was strangely twisted, as though he were holding back tears.

Relief and an overwhelming rush of emotion flooded her. Summoning her courage, Elena slowly raised her hand. The small movement sent pain rippling through her body, but she did not stop. Her fingers traced the scar that ran diagonally across Kennard’s brow.

Her chest ached at the feel of it. She could only imagine the time he had endured, but it must have been harsh and painful beyond measure. Kennard did not blink, watching her the entire time.

Elena followed the line of the scar down and met his golden eyes. “You didn’t have this scar before.”

Tears welled, blurring his face, but she forced a smile. Sliding her hand down, she cupped his cheek. Kennard covered the back of her hand with his own, turned his head slightly, and pressed a kiss into her palm. The roughness of his lips and the warmth of his breath lingered.

“Do you remember the day we first met?” he asked, his voice trembling faintly.

Elena wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms, but she had no strength left for that. Even leaning against him was almost too much, cold sweat breaking out across her body. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and nodded.

He gathered her close, stroking her hair and back with gentle care.

“I remember everything,” she said softly. “Even the day I first met you in the tower of Terra Demorte Castle.”

“Kennard,” he corrected quietly, adding his name to the end of her sentence. “Back then, you called me Kennard.”

Elena let out a breathy laugh. “That’s right. I called you Kennard. I never even thought to ask your family name, even though I knew you weren’t from the White Fox Tribe.”

“I was the same,” Kennard replied, his voice pouring over her head like warm light. “Even though you looked nothing like them. From the moment you were imprinted on me, nothing else mattered.”

“You finally remembered,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. Moisture seeped into his voice. “At last.”

After a moment, Kennard pulled back slightly and looked down at her.

“But Elena,” he said, his tone firm despite its gentleness, “no matter what you ask of me, I cannot forgive them.”