Chapter 45

“I asked what happened. Why are your clothes and hair drenched?'” Kennard’s calm voice dipped to a near whisper.

Elena clutched the sodden hem of her dress tightly, struggling to find the words. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that Hazel had pushed her. It wasn’t solely out of embarrassment, but also due to her apprehension about Kennard’s reaction. Perhaps, revealing the truth could alter Kennard’s dynamic with Hazel. All the patience she had mustered over the past few days might become futile in an instant. 

“It’s nothing, Your Grace. I simply tripped and fell,” she finally managed to say, forcing a casual tone into her voice.

Kennard’s gaze intensified as he studied Elena, his pumpkin-colored irises piercing through his thick lashes. His eyebrows quirked dramatically as he observed Elena’s furrowed brow.

“Where did you fall?” he inquired further, his tone gentle but probing.

“In the bathroom,” Elena replied, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t use the bathroom here,” Kennard pointed out, casting a glance around the corridor where the knights and Cura stood aside, creating a subtle barrier. His gaze then shifted beyond them to the bathroom designated for Hazel’s use, where Carmen and a maid were emerging from the top of the stairs, frozen in surprise at the scene unfolding before them.

Quickly composing themselves, Carmen and the maid bowed respectfully to Kennard, acknowledging his presence with deference.

As Kennard’s silence stretched, Carmen took charge, leading the maid into the bathroom with a swift yet composed demeanor. Kennard’s gaze remained fixed on them, his expression inscrutable.

“Surely you’re not responsible for Hazel’s bath time,” Kennard redirected his attention back to Elena, his voice a low rumble that seemed to fill the corridor with an eerie weight. Despite the absence of overt anger or raised tones, the quiet intensity of his words hung heavy in the air, almost suffocating.

“Today was the first time,” Elena confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a hint of apprehension. “I’m not accustomed to it, hence the mishap. Please, don’t hold it against Hazel.”

“Elena!” Kennard’s sudden exclamation cut through the tense atmosphere, his grip on her arm tightening, fingers pressing into her skin with an almost painful force. Startled, Elena met his gaze, finding herself uncomfortably close to his face, his breath warm against her skin.

“Are you lying to me?” 

“No, Your Grace,” Elena rushed to assure him, her throat tight with nerves, each swallow sounding like a thunderclap in her ears.

“Return to your room,” Kennard commanded with a weary sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. The strands fell haphazardly across his forehead, accentuating the intensity of his expression.

Elena felt a rush of panic as if all vitality drained from her in an instant. The thought of being confined to her room once more sent a shiver down her spine, uncertainty clouding her mind like a thick fog.

“Your Grace!” She blurted out, instinctively clutching Kennard’s hand that gripped her arm. His touch, though firm, radiated a reassuring warmth. Elena couldn’t help but acknowledge the solace she found in his touch, even in the midst of such turmoil.

Kennard’s gaze flickered down to their joined hands, then slowly lifted to meet Elena’s. In the depths of his pumpkin-colored eyes, fleeting flames danced and vanished, swallowed by an abyss of darkness.

Elena knew she had to sway Kennard’s resolve, yet her mind seemed to draw a blank, her lips unable to form coherent words. All she could muster was a pleading gaze, beseeching him silently for understanding.

For a prolonged moment, Kennard studied Elena in silence, the tension gradually dissipating from his rigid frame as he released a deep sigh.

“I didn’t mean to lock you up again, I just meant that it’s getting late and you should go back to your room.” Kennard’s words washed over Elena like a soothing balm, easing the knot of anxiety in her chest. His gaze seemed to penetrate her very soul as she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

With a gentle touch, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering near her neck, tentative yet tender, as if unsure of their own intentions.

Kennard’s movements unfolded in a languid, almost ethereal manner, each gesture deliberate and unhurried, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. Elena averted her gaze, a sudden rush of self-consciousness flooding her senses upon meeting his deeply locked eyes. Yet, the glimpse she caught of Kennard’s exposed upper body beneath his robe stole her attention momentarily, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a mesmerizing sight.

“Elena,” his voice, devoid of any hint of anger, gently called her name, his gaze unwavering.

“Look at me,” he urged, his hand finding its way to the nape of her neck, threading through the damp tendrils of her hair. The chill from her wet clothes seemed to dissipate under the warmth of his touch, a soothing contrast against the icy tendrils of anxiety that coiled within her.

With hesitant reluctance, Elena lifted her eyelids, once more met with the unfiltered view of Kennard’s sturdy frame. Cheeks ablaze, she quickly averted her gaze, only to be caught off guard by his next words,.

“I haven’t any spare clothes tonight. However, if you wish, I could assist you with this robe,” Kennard’s offer, though seemingly innocuous, ignited a fierce blush that spread from her cheeks to every corner of her being.

“No, thank you. I-I’m fine, truly,” Elena stammered, her hands fluttering in surprise as she declined his offer. A subtle curve tugged at the corner of Kennard’s lips, a semblance of a smile that failed to reach his eyes.

“Really? Then hurry back to your bedroom. Not anywhere else, straight to your bedroom. Understand?” Kennard’s tone brooked no argument.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Elena affirmed, her response swift as Kennard withdrew his hands, allowing space between them.

With a gesture, Kennard indicated the direction she should take, his arm extended to the side. Elena offered a respectful nod before hastening down the corridor, footsteps echoing in the silence. The soft shuffle of Cura and the knights trailing behind her barely registered as she focused on her destination, determined not to look back.

“Cura, see to it that Elena has a warm drink,” Kennard’s command rang out behind her.

“At once, Your Grace,” Cura acknowledged promptly, hurrying to join Elena’s side.

“I thought my heart was going to sink,” Cura whispered to Elena, her voice a mere murmur meant only for her ears.

Me too, Elena thought inwardly, quickening her pace.

***

“So, care to explain why you crossed paths with Elena?” Kennard perched on the edge of the bed, one foot planted firmly on the ground, his gaze fixed on Serin, who stood at attention.

“I already told you, it was purely coincidental,” Serin replied, his wrist caught in Kennard’s grip, a faint crease forming on his brow.

“Coincidental? Do you expect me to believe that? Shall I recount how you ended up in a place you had no business being?” Kennard’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his tone laced with incredulity.

“I was merely passing through…” Serin began, his words trailing off as Kennard’s patience reached its limit.

“Serin Elus!” Kennard’s voice cracked with exasperation, the tension finally breaking.

“Fine, fine. Yes, I intentionally sought her out. Is that why you’re squeezing my wrist like that? Lucky it’s still in one piece,” Serin grumbled, his tone laden with annoyance.

“And here I thought you were about to catch some sleep,” Kennard retorted, a mixture of disbelief and irritation coloring his expression.

Serin shot Kennard an incredulous look, shoulders lifting in a helpless shrug, hands gesturing in a manner that seemed to say, “What else could I do?”

“Even with our naturally high body temperatures, it’s still chilly, and you breeze in like a gust of wind,” Serin remarked with a hint of annoyance.

“Serin!” Kennard’s sharp tone cut through the air, interrupting Serin’s retort.

“You sensed that my pheromones were in the same vicinity as Elena’s,” Serin continued, undeterred by Kennard’s reprimand.

“Enough!” Kennard snapped, his patience wearing thin. The urge to throttle Serin for his impertinence surged within him.

“Are you jealous of me, of all people?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Kennard scoffed, though the idea irked him more than he cared to admit. Serin’s audacity bordered on madness, provoking Kennard’s temper to its breaking point.

“If you persist in spouting nonsense, I might just be inclined to silence you permanently. If you value your life, answer my questions,” Kennard threatened, his voice low and menacing.

“Why do you always antagonize me?” Kennard demanded through gritted teeth, his gaze burning holes into Serin.

As Serin met his gaze and then lowered his arms, a sense of resignation washed over him. 

“I merely wished to alleviate Your Grace’s concerns,” Serin offered.

“How does your meddling ease my concerns? And did you say anything untoward to Elena?” Kennard pressed, his patience wearing thin.

“Untoward? Are you referring to the “witch”?” Serin’s words trailed off abruptly, his gaze averting from Kennard’s penetrating stare. The tension in the room thickened as Kennard waited for Serin’s response.

“I didn’t utter anything of the sort,” Serin finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a resigned sigh, Kennard rose abruptly from his seat, sending Serin a sharp glance before moving to the nearby table. Retrieving a jewel-adorned box, he selected a vanilla-scented petal with delicate tongs and infused it into a teacup, the rich aroma filling the room as he poured hot water over it.

Kennard took a sip of the fragrant tea before settling back into his chair, his gaze fixed on Serin with unwavering intensity.

“If not that, then why did you seek her out?”