Chapter 43

Elena glanced down at her hand, the callouses and faint scars a map of her past she couldn’t even remember. Compared to her arrival, they were softened, the wounds healing. Yet, beside Hazel’s flawless skin, she felt oddly inadequate.

“A name without a history,” Hazel mused, taking a step closer. “Who are you, truly?”

Elena’s silence drew Hazel in. Resting her chin on a palm, Hazel leaned close, scrutinizing Elena’s face. A sliver of apprehension snaked through Elena as Hazel grasped a lock of her hair, yanking it up.

A crimson streak marred Hazel’s pale wrist where she held the hair. Water trickled down her arm. “Red hair and gray eyes,” Hazel murmured, tilting her head, a flicker of intrigue in her gaze. “A rare combination.”

Hazel’s thumb stroked the hair, her lips pursed. Elena met her gaze unflinchingly, a curious mix of defiance and disdain flashing in her eyes.

With a sudden jerk, Hazel yanked the hair closer, eliciting a sharp cry from Elena. Pain flared on her scalp. When she squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, Hazel’s face was impossibly close.

“Why?” Elena gasped, reaching up to yank at Hazel’s hand.

Hazel’s grip tightened. “Speak.”

“What do you want?” Elena countered, voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

“How did you earn His Grace’s favor?” Hazel pressed, her voice laced with suspicion. “Did you seduce him?”

“Don’t speak so recklessly.” Fury surged through Elena. Hazel’s words were a blatant insult, not just to her, but to Kennard. She could handle rudeness, but accusations aimed at him were intolerable.

“Maybe not.” A cruel smirk twisted Hazel’s lips. “His tastes wouldn’t stoop to such an…unsightly body. But then…”

Hazel’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of hair near Elena’s forehead. A strangled cry tore from Elena’s throat as pain lanced through her scalp. She clawed at Hazel’s hand, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

“Why you?” Hazel hissed, her voice laced with venomous fury. “Why does he choose a nobody like you while his fiance is cast aside?”

Elena gritted her teeth, forcing out, “I don’t know.”

“If you don’t,” Hazel snarled, shoving Elena with surprising strength, “who does?”

The force sent Elena sprawling backward. Her hand, slick with moisture, found no purchase on the cold marble floor. She tumbled sideways, the impact stealing the breath from her lungs. Pain radiated from her side and arms, yet she lay there, momentarily stunned.

Hazel let out a guttural growl, her knuckles white as she gripped the bathtub’s edge. “It’s unreasonable that I should suffer humiliation from someone like you. How could this even happen?”

A slow, controlled anger burned in Elena’s eyes. Ignoring the throbbing ache, she pushed herself up, using the cool floor as a guide. When she finally faced Hazel, the other woman was a predator poised to strike.

A tremor ran through Elena as she saw the fiery defiance in Hazel’s tear-filled eyes. It  wasn’t pity, nor sympathy. It was raw anger.

“What difference does it make?” Elena countered, forcing her gaze to meet Hazel’s.

Hazel blinked, brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Why His Grace favors me,” Elena pressed, her voice growing colder with each word. “You asked. Yes, I care for him deeply, but…”

With each sentence, a chilling indifference settled over Elena. As if possessed, a steely calm replaced her earlier turmoil. “Like you said, Miss Hazel, I’m nothing but a commoner. What place do I have in such a position?”

Taking a shaky breath, Elena emphasized “commoner” as if the word itself held the answer. “Besides, it’s you, Miss Hazel, who will be his bride.”

Elena rose slowly, the waterlogged dress clinging to her like a lead weight, threatening to pull her back down. “I understand your displeasure. I don’t belong by His Grace’s side either. So wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if you removed me from the castle as soon as possible?”

With a formal bow and clasped hands, Elena pleaded, “Please.”

Hazel’s voice, laced with anger and tears, crackled. “Who are you to order me?”

Elena swallowed, a silent scream trapped in her throat. 

I want to cry too.

***

The bathroom door creaked shut behind Elena. Cura, hovering anxiously outside, rushed towards her. Nearby knights cast startled glances at Elena, their eyes widening at the sight of her damp clothes.

“Elena-nim!” Cura exclaimed, her voice tight with worry. Reaching out, she grabbed Elena’s skirt hem, her trembling hands ineffectively dabbing at the moisture. “Are you alright? What happened in there?”

Elena turned, her gaze flickering past Cura’s shoulder towards the bathroom entrance. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

“It’s not nothing, is it?” A low voice came from behind. Elena spun around to see Serin leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“Lord Serin,” she stammered, “how did you…?”

“I heard you were wandering outside,” he interrupted, his voice calm but laced with authority. “But you weren’t in the garden. So here I am.”

Elena opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Serin pushed himself off the wall with a sigh, his gaze lingering on Elena for a moment before he brushed past her. “What are you waiting for?” he said, his voice clipped. “Aren’t you going to your room?”

With a hesitant glance at Cura, Elena reluctantly followed Serin. Cura trailed after her, the knights falling into step behind them.

Serin arched an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Elena and the closed study door. “News travels fast in this castle,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Word is you agreed to Hazel’s little game. What were you thinking?”

Elena swallowed, forcing a nonchalant shrug. “What?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Serin’s smile was thin. “Don’t play coy, Elena. We all know Hazel dislikes you. It’s hardly a secret, though I imagine you know that better than anyone.”

His words held a surprising weight, despite their gentle tone. His eyes, however, were a different story – sharp and probing, as if he could see right through her carefully constructed facade.

“Like I told His Grace,” she began, trying to sound confident, “I just needed some fresh air. Being cooped up all day was suffocating.”

“So suffocating you threatened His Grace you’d jump off the terrace?” Serin’s voice held a hint of amusement, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Elena lurched forward, her voice rising in panic. “Threatened? How could I threaten His Grace?”

Serin let out a short, humorless laugh, looking down at her with a knowing smile. “Really? You think I’m that naive? You knew the Duke would cave, didn’t you?”

Elena’s stomach twisted. A prickle of unease ran down her spine. The truth, as uncomfortable as it was, sat heavy in her heart. Serin was right.

Sleep had eluded her for nights on end. How could she convince Kennard to let her out? Begging wouldn’t work, that much was clear. Trapped in her room, her gaze drifted to the terrace doors. Below, the vast castle gardens lay shrouded in darkness.

A thought, fleeting and desperate, flickered in her mind. ‘If only I could jump…’ The idea startled her, yet it clung to her like a shadow.

Hazel’s suggestion echoed in Elena’s mind: “Escape to the terrace, at least.” Maybe mentioning it to Kennard would work. Surely, that wasn’t a threat? But a tiny voice whispered, ‘Did you not even consider it a little?’ Ignoring the unsettling thought, Elena straightened her shoulders.

Serin sighed, like he expected another denial. “Look, whatever happened, the Duke said yes. You’re out, that’s all that matters. But promise me something.”

He stopped and faced her. “Don’t leave the castle grounds. Not even the gardens. And stay away from Hazel, even inside.”

Elena fought to hide her rising panic. “Why?” she managed, trying to sound calm. Did Serin suspect she wanted to flee completely?

Her frantic heart hammered against her ribs, then plunged into a chilling silence as Serin spoke the next words. “Elena, the White Fox Tribe seems to be after you.”

The blood drained from her face, limbs turning to ice. “What? What do you mean?” she whispered, voice trembling.

Serin met her gaze for a fleeting moment before sighing. “Let’s talk privately,” he said to the knights and Cura following them. “Give us some space.” The guards retreated, leaving Elena and Serin alone.

Serin’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Remember the forest? When you were with the Duke? That’s when the White Fox Tribe attacked you.”

Elena froze. Her body locked in place, as if turned to stone. The memory of the terrifying encounter in the woods flooded back.

“Do you have any idea why they went after you?”