Chapter 51

At Elena’s reassurance, a fresh wave of tears welled in Cura’s eyes.

“No, please,” Cura choked out, her voice thick with emotion. “You must have been far more terrified, Elena.”

Witnessing Cura’s trembling sobs, a lump formed in Elena’s throat. She, too, had been caught off guard by the ordeal. But compared to the recent traumas she’d faced, this felt…manageable.

Elena, heavy with guilt for causing the young girl such distress, reached out and squeezed Cura’s hand. “I’m truly sorry, Cura. This is all my fault.”

“Don’t even say that,” Cura countered, her voice rising in protest. “Miss Hazel has tormented you for so long. You’ve tolerated her cruelty only to be thrust into this danger. It’s infuriating!”

Elena offered a weak smile, then attempted to rise from the bed. A groan escaped her lips as a wave of pain washed over her. Her entire body felt like it had been pummeled.

The gash on her chest, inflicted by Hazel, wasn’t life-threatening, but it throbbed with a dull ache. “Let me tend to your wound,” Cura said, her voice laced with concern. “Just rest for a moment.”

Hurrying to the table beside the bed, Cura retrieved a delicate porcelain box. Lifting the lid, she scooped out a spoonful of a greenish paste with a comforting herbal scent.

Cura’s touch was gentle as she began applying the paste to Elena’s wound. With each press, Elena flinched, the sting a sharp counterpoint to the throbbing pain.

“Does it hurt?” Cura’s brow furrowed with concern as she dabbed the paste on Elena’s wound.

“I’m alright,” Elena mumbled, her gaze distant. “But what about Miss Carmen?”

Cura’s hand stilled. “Sir Leto administered the antidote, but…” she trailed off, her voice heavy. “It seems it might be too late.”

“And the doctor?” Elena pressed.

“He came,” Cura confirmed. “But since you…” she hesitated, then continued softly, “since you left with Sir Leto, he hasn’t returned to the castle.”

Elena winced, not just from the sting of the paste, but from a pang of guilt. “What about Miss Hazel?”

Cura shook her head. “I haven’t heard. But with the Grand Duke’s orders, she’s likely packing for her return to the capital.”

After a moment, Cura wiped the wound clean with a warm cloth. The scent of chamomile mingled with the earthy aroma of the paste. She carefully adjusted Elena’s chemise and secured the lid on the ceramic jar filled with the herbal remedy.

Elena watched Cura move in a daze. A knot of worry tightened in her stomach. With everything that had happened, she hadn’t had time to think. Now, calming down, a wave of anxieties crashed over her. What if Miss Carmen died or Miss Hazel was expelled? Wouldn’t His Grace be in trouble because of her?

Cura draped a soft robe over Elena’s shoulders, gently tucking her hair beneath the collar. A flicker of worry crossed Cura’s eyes, mirroring Elena’s own turmoil. “That might be the case,” she murmured, her voice laced with concern.

“Because of me…” Elena began, her voice barely a whisper.

Cura quickly cut her off, shaking her head. “No, you mustn’t think that way. His Grace holds immense power. Even His Majesty wouldn’t dare cross Duke Kennard lightly,” she whispered, her voice laced with concern.

Elena barely registered Cura drawing the heavy drapes shut, the world outside fading into a blurry canvas of worry.

The door creaked open, revealing Kennard in a state of barely contained energy. Damp tendrils of dark hair clung to his forehead, and his thin shirt barely contained the breadth of his muscular chest.

“Your Grace.” Elena rose from the sofa as she saw Cura bow her head in greeting.

“Cura, you should go and rest now.” Kennard gestured towards the door, his voice a low rumble.

Cura hesitated. “But it’s still early…”

“Serin has been restless,” Kennard cut in, his gaze flickering to Elena for a fleeting moment. “Go show your face, at least.”

Cura looked at Elena, seeking guidance. Elena offered a small, hesitant nod. “I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Cura dipped her head in another curtsy and left the room, the heavy oak door sighing shut behind her.

Although Elena had said she was fine, she regretted not keeping Cura with her a bit longer.

With only a few lamps and the fireplace illuminating the dark room, being alone with Kennard made even standing still feel awkward.

Elena gnawed on her lip, a sliver of regret pricking at her for dismissing Cura. Now, alone with Kennard in the cavernous room, the silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension. The fire cast long, dancing shadows across the walls, the only light competing with the dim glow of a few scattered lamps.

A sudden gust of wind seemed to follow Kennard as he crossed the room, the flames in the fireplace flickering wildly. “How are you feeling?”

His golden eyes, reflecting the firelight, looked down at her intensely. Startled, Elena’s heart hammered against her ribs. She instinctively stepped back, only to find herself trapped between Kennard’s imposing form and the fireplace.

Kennard moved closer again, not allowing her any space to retreat. A cloying scent, heavy as incense smoke, filled Elena’s nostrils, a stark contrast to the delicate floral fragrance clinging to her own skin. Had she not clasped her hands in front of her in a desperate attempt at a barrier, his body would have been flush against hers.

“I-I’m fine,” Elena stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Kennard’s hand shot up, the movement swift and startling. Elena flinched as his fingers brushed against the bandage covering her wound. “I should have killed her right then and there,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he spoke. Even though the words weren’t directed at her, Elena felt a cold dread pool in her stomach.

Kennard’s sigh washed over Elena’s forehead as she forced herself to respond. “The wound isn’t deep.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Elena dared not move, her breath caught in her throat. Kennard loomed over her, his every breath a warm current against her chilled skin.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Elena whispered, her voice barely audible.

A shiver ran down Elena’s spine. Trapped between the fireplace and his imposing form, she realized escape wasn’t an option. 

As Kennard’s breath brushed against her, Elena felt that even her own breathing might touch him, making her feel unnatural about even that simple act. In the suffocating silence, it felt like the air was evaporating, and her body was shrinking. Her breathing grew more rapid.

A droplet of water from Kennard’s disheveled hair fell onto Elena’s chest, soaking her thin chemise. The chill from the damp fabric sent another jolt through her.

“Your Grace, why are you here so late…?” Elena tried to speak nonchalantly as she pulled the hem of her robe tighter.

“Why do you think I came?” Kennard’s voice was low and deep, sending shivers down her spine.

Though he was close, he didn’t touch her or make contact. Yet it felt as if his hands were already caressing her body, a phantom warmth against her chilled skin. Elena’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the slow, deliberate way he spoke.

“Do you remember when you said you wanted me?”

A blush crept up Elena’s neck as she met his gaze, a silent confirmation of her earlier words. “I remember,” Elena whispered, her voice barely a whisper.

Kennard gently lifted her chin, making her look up again. “And do you remember when I said that if you took my hand, you could never let go?”

“Yes…”

“Elena.” 

The single word echoed in the vast silence, laced with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine. Stronger than the cloying perfume, his pheromones filled the air, a primal call that resonated deep within her.

His hands, calloused and warm, cupped her face, sending a jolt through her that singed all the way to her core. Kennard’s face lowered to just above hers, making her tilt her head back. Elena met his gaze, her breath catching in her throat. The air crackled with unspoken desire, an electric current that hummed beneath her skin.

His golden eyes glowed with heat between his long eyelashes. “I’ll give you one more chance to choose.”

They were so close their noses almost touched. Their lips brushed lightly as he spoke, sending a delicious tingle through her that spread to her toes. 

“What do you…” She tried to speak through her lips, not wanting to touch his, but it was useless. Even that small movement made her delicate lips brush against his, preventing her from continuing.

“Tonight, I will embrace you,” he murmured, his voice a husky caress. His sharp nose brushed against the soft curve of hers, sending another tremor through her, a mix of fear and raw desire that left her breathless. “To make you completely mine.”

He brushed past her lips, then tilted his head the other way, softly kissing the corner of her mouth. A soft moan escaped Elena’s lips before she could stop it.

Kennard’s lips roamed her lips, teasingly, leaving her unable to think of anything else. “So if you don’t want that, say so now.” His lips touched hers as he spoke, and his hot breath filled her mouth with each word.

The world narrowed to the press of his lips, the intoxicating scent of him filling her senses. With a desperate gasp, Elena forced the words out.

“If I say I don’t want it…”