Chapter 59

Kennard pulled on the reins, slowing his horse as he glanced back at Serin. “Why the sudden change of plans?” he asked. “The men must have already prepared for our arrival. By the time we reach the next outpost, it will be the dead of night.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check one more place today,” Serin replied, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Kennard. A flicker of suspicion danced in his shadowed gaze. “If Your Grace wishes to alter the schedule, so be it. But why the sudden urgency?”

“I’m just tired,” Kennard responded. “Haven’t slept well in days.”

Serin scoffed. “And whose fault is that? If you’re tired, it would be wiser to rest early at the next outpost rather than pushing ourselves.” He grumbled for a moment before his eyes widened. Nudging his horse closer, he asked, “Don’t tell me you’re planning to rush back to the castle because of Elena?”

Kennard ignored the question, urging his horse forward.

“Seriously?” Serin shouted, racing to catch up. “Is that the reason? Is it true?”

Kennard glanced back with a teasing smirk before disappearing into the forest.

***

“Ugh… it hurts,” Elena groaned, turning onto her side. An overwhelming pain throbbed through her body. It felt as though she had been trampled by a horse; her entire form was heavy and aching. Slowly, she opened her eyes, scanning the darkened room illuminated only by the flickering fireplace and a solitary lantern. How long had she slept? She couldn’t recall falling asleep or waking up. Everything seemed like a distant, hazy dream. Pushing herself up, she supported her weight on the floor as the fur blanket slid from her shoulders.

Suddenly, a strange sensation stirred within her, followed by a warm liquid gushing forth. Startled, Elena hastily discarded the fur blanket and sheets. Her hands moved with a sluggish, weakened urgency as she pushed the fur aside to examine the soaked linens. Clear fluid drenched the fabric. 

“What do I do…?” she whispered to herself, feeling a surge of embarrassment. Her face burned with shame as she buried it in her hands. The memory of her first intimate encounter flooded her mind—the excruciating pain as if her body were being torn apart, followed by an indescribable sensation…

Kennard’s ravenous touch, claiming her through the night, sent shivers of ecstasy through her body as she welcomed him within. As these memories resurfaced, her toes curled, and a warm sensation ignited from her core. 

“No… no,” Elena whispered, shaking her head vigorously to dispel the embarrassing thoughts. The longer she remained still, the more they threatened to consume her. With effort, she forced herself to move. Thankfully, she was still wearing her chemise. Sliding off the bed, she placed her feet on the cold floor. 

“Ah!” she gasped as her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground. Her strength was depleted; she couldn’t stand. Gripping the edge of the bed, she desperately tried to pull herself up.

The door burst open, revealing Cura, who gasped in shock at the sight. Hastily placing the tray she carried onto the table, she rushed to Elena’s side. Cura slipped her arms beneath Elena’s, helping her to her feet. 

“Thank you,” Elena murmured. 

“Are you alright? No, why did you collapse? Were you feeling dizzy?” Cura asked, her voice filled with concern.

Elena shook her head, declining to lie down. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed. “Could I have some water…?” she croaked.

“Just a moment!” Cura replied quickly, pouring water into a glass from the table and handing it to Elena. As Elena drank, she realized the extent of her thirst. She drained the glass completely and handed it back to Cura. “How long was I asleep?” she asked.

Cura looked up, calculating the time. “It’s been three days since you returned from the greenhouse,” she replied, counting on her fingers.

“Three days?” Elena exclaimed, surprised.

“Yes. His Grace ordered that you be left to rest, so he didn’t even allow me to enter the room. He’s been here with you the entire time,” Cura explained.

“His… His Grace?” Elena began, but a coughing fit seized her.

“Oh dear, Miss Elena!” Cura exclaimed, rushing to refill the glass of water and handing it to her. Only after several sips did Elena’s coughing subside. She pressed a hand to her throat and took a deep breath.

“Would you like to eat something first? Once you’ve finished, I’ll help you with a bath,” Cura suggested, supporting Elena as she guided her to a chair by the table. She carefully transferred the dishes from the tray to the table in front of Elena. Seeing the stew, bread, steak, and even chocolates laid out before her, Elena felt a sudden, unexpected surge of hunger. She devoured the food rapidly, and before she knew it, only empty plates remained.

“You must have been starving,” Cura chuckled softly as she poured Elena a cup of herb tea. After filling her stomach and moving around a little, Elena still felt sore and achy all over, but the discomfort seemed somewhat bearable now.

As Cura helped her into a dress, drowsiness began to overtake her once more. Elena stifled a yawn behind her hand, hearing Cura’s soft chuckle. Embarrassed, she covered her flushed cheeks with her hands and turned away. Did Cura know about her intimate encounter with His Grace the Duke? Uncertainty about Cura’s knowledge made every word, action, and expression feel awkward. Elena could only hope that Cura remained oblivious. No matter how close they were, it would be mortifying if Cura knew the truth.

“Cura, what happened to Lady Carmen?” Elena asked. Cura, who had been adjusting the hem of Elena’s dress, paused briefly before retrieving a coat draped over the sofa.

“I heard she passed away,” Cura replied. Elena was so shocked that she turned around immediately. Cura, who had been about to drape the coat over Elena’s shoulders, paused and then hung it over her own arm.

“When Teacher Leto arrived at the castle, the poison had already spread throughout her body. They tried an antidote, but it was too late,” Cura explained.

“So, where is she now? Is she still at the castle?” Elena asked.

Cura shook her head. “Remember when His Grace ordered Lady Hazel and her party to leave before dawn the next day? They embalmed her body and sent it to the capital in the carriage. I only heard about it from Teacher Leto, though; I didn’t see it myself.”

“I see…” Elena replied, feeling a heavy stone settle in her chest. Although Hazel had been more direct in her tormenting, Carmen had not been a saint either. Even if she had only followed Hazel’s orders due to their noble status, from Elena’s perspective, Carmen had been a bystander. Still, she had never imagined that Carmen would lose her life so suddenly and tragically.

“Don’t worry too much. They brought it on themselves, after all. Both Lady Carmen and Lady Hazel treated you terribly,” Cura reassured her, brushing off the coat that had been draped over her arm. She moved behind Elena to place it over her shoulders, then came around to the front to tie the knot beneath Elena’s chin.

Despite Cura’s reassurances, Elena still felt uneasy. She also worried about how this incident might affect Kennard. The thought that everything had escalated because of her weighed heavily on her mind.

“What about Teacher Leto?” Elena asked, a hint of warmth spreading through her at the mention of his name.

“He returned to the village shortly after Lady Hazel and her party left,” Cura replied.

“He didn’t stay longer? It’s been such a long time since I last saw him.”

“If it hadn’t been for Lady Carmen, he wouldn’t have come at all this time either. He was so anxious about running into His Grace that it was almost painful to watch,” Cura explained.

Teacher Leto was banished from the castle because of me too… Elena thought, letting out a deep sigh. Cura glanced at Elena, concerned by her expression.

“It’s his fault for saying unnecessary things to you. Why didn’t he even mention the White Fox Tribe still living in the village? You almost left without knowing anything,” Cura grumbled as she supported Elena, guiding her toward the door.

As they stepped into the hallway and headed toward the bathroom, the path felt strangely unfamiliar, almost new. According to Cura, it had only been three days. But in just those three days, so much had changed for her that the once-familiar surroundings now seemed foreign. The lanterns and paintings lining the walls, the lavishly arranged vases with various flowers spaced at regular intervals—all of it looked different to Elena, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

As they walked, the head butler, Lassino, appeared at the opposite end of the hallway with three or four maids in tow. 

“Butler Lassino!” Elena offered a slight bow as she greeted him, and Lassino approached her with a warm smile. 

“Miss Elena, how are you feeling?” 

It was a simple, everyday greeting, but for some reason, it made Elena’s cheeks flush. 

“I’m alright,” she replied quickly, turning her gaze to the maids beside him.

On any other day, they would have barely acknowledged her with a polite nod. Having seen her suffer while serving Hazel, their initial coldness had given way to something closer to pity. But today, when they met Elena’s eyes, they bowed deeply, offering her a more respectful greeting than she was used to.