Chapter 71

“Oh my!”

Cura, who had been squatting down, was so startled that she toppled backward onto the floor.

“Cura!”

Beside her, Elena jumped in surprise, instinctively reaching out to steady Cura. But instead of helping, her hand caught the wide hem of her own dress, which was spread out like a fan on the floor.

“Ah!” Elena gasped as she lost her balance. She reached out, desperate to brace herself, but her fingertips barely grazed the ground before her body tipped backward.

In that fleeting moment, as she teetered on the edge of an ungraceful fall, a familiar scent brushed past her senses—Kennard’s pheromones.

Before she could comprehend what was happening, the sharp impact she’d braced for never came. Her body, which had been about to collide nose-first with the floor, was suddenly suspended in midair.

“What now?”

The low, clipped tone pulled her attention. Turning her head, she found herself staring into Kennard’s narrowed eyes. His expression was cool, displeased, and unwavering as his arm, strong and steady, wrapped securely around her waist.

“Y-Your Grace,” Elena stammered, her voice faltering.

“We greet Your Grace!”

Cura scrambled to her feet, her face flushed with embarrassment, and bowed deeply toward Kennard.

It wasn’t just her.

Startled by the Duke’s sudden arrival, the attendants hastily rose from their seats, their movements hurried and awkward as they bent into deep bows.

“We greet Your Grace,” they echoed in unison, their voices laced with a mix of respect and apprehension.

Kennard’s gaze shifted toward Leto, who stood among the attendants with a casual air.

Removing his hat, Leto pressed it to his chest in a gesture of respect, though the deepening furrow in Kennard’s brow suggested the display didn’t impress him.

“Leto,” Kennard said, his tone edged with cool authority. “What brings you here? Haven’t you only ever appeared reluctantly when summoned?”

“Ah, well…” Leto replied, scratching the back of his head with an awkward smile.

“I went fishing for the first time in a long while and ended up catching more than I expected,” he explained, his fingers idly stroking the long, white beard that cascaded to his chest. He gestured toward a large wooden barrel beside him.

Kennard’s eyes flicked to it, his expression unreadable. Inside, the barrel brimmed with fish, each one plump and gleaming, their size surpassing a grown man’s forearm.

Elena, still firmly held against Kennard’s chest, watched the interaction in silence. His arm remained snug around her waist, an arrangement she found increasingly mortifying as she noticed the subtle glances from the attendants—and Leto’s unabashed stare.

She didn’t need a mirror to know her face was aflame. The heat crawled across her cheeks, spread to her ears, and even reached the tips of her fingers.

Don’t react, she told herself, willing her hands not to move. Fanning her cheeks or attempting to cover her embarrassment would only draw more attention to her already precarious situation.

As Kennard leaned slightly to inspect the fish, Elena seized the opportunity to subtly attempt to free herself from his grasp. Her hand lightly touched his arm, pushing gently.

But before she could succeed, his head snapped toward her with startling speed, his golden eyes gleaming beneath long, dark lashes. The scar etched along his right eye twitched, as if betraying his displeasure.

“Don’t,” Kennard said softly, his voice low and commanding. His arm tightened fractionally around her waist, an unspoken warning not to test his patience.

Elena held her breath, caught in the spell of Kennard’s gaze. Her reflection was vividly mirrored in his golden eyes, yet it felt as though she was being pulled into their depths, drowning in an intensity she couldn’t escape.

“Were you watching this?” Kennard’s voice was soft but probing, his gaze on her sharpening even further.

“Yes. It was… fascinating,” Elena murmured, her lips barely moving, as though she were entranced.

“What’s so fascinating about it? Have you never seen a fish before?”

Elena hesitated. “I’ve never seen one… this big before.”

The words tumbled out before she could stop them, but she caught herself just in time from admitting more—that she had no memory of seeing a fish at all.

Kennard’s expression didn’t betray whether he noticed her slip, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, scanning her as if searching for something beneath her composed exterior. Then, without another word, he turned back to the barrel of fish.

“Leto,” Kennard began, his tone sharp, “where did you catch these?”

“Pardon?” Leto blinked, startled by the abrupt question.

“I’m asking where you went fishing,” Kennard repeated, his voice edged with impatience.

Leto’s eyes darted briefly to Elena, who stood motionless in Kennard’s firm grasp, before lowering his gaze. “The river on the way up to Seven Point Hill, Your Grace.”

“You mean near the hot springs?” Kennard asked, his brow arching slightly.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Kennard frowned. “If there are hot springs, wouldn’t the water be too warm for fish to thrive?”

“The summit has the hot springs,” Leto explained, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “But the lower areas have cooler waters. In places like Terra Demorte, where winters are long, such conditions are perfect for fish habitats.”

“Hmm.” Kennard’s free hand moved to his chin, stroking it as he considered the explanation. His other arm remained snug around Elena’s waist, her body still pressed lightly against him.

“Elena.”

His sudden address caught her off guard, and she blinked up at him, startled.

“Have you ever been fishing?”

The unexpected question left her momentarily speechless, her lips parting as her mind scrambled for an answer.

“Fishing…”

Elena repeated the word, her thoughts swirling as she racked her brain. Yet no memory of fishing surfaced. If she had ever done it before losing her memory, it was long buried in the void of her mind.

Kennard studied her intently, his piercing gaze tracking every flicker of confusion on her face. Without warning, he tilted her chin upward, his fingers firm yet unhurried, guiding her to meet his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if you haven’t,” he said, his voice low, the corners of his lips curving faintly. “You can just do it with me.”

“Pardon?” Elena blinked, startled by the unexpected offer, her disbelief evident in her voice.

Kennard, however, seemed uninterested in clarifications. He turned his attention away from her without a second glance.

“Leto.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I’ll be taking Elena fishing. Inform Lassino to prepare everything we’ll need.”

“You mean Your Grace intends to go fishing yourself?”

Leto’s jaw dropped, his wide eyes deepening the creases on his weathered face. The attendants nearby were no less stunned, their hands flying to their mouths as they exchanged shocked glances.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Kennard’s tone dropped, sharp and final.

“But, Your Grace,” Leto stammered, hesitant yet concerned, “there could be bears coming out of hibernation—it’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Kennard echoed, a faint chuckle rumbling from his chest, his expression touched with amusement. “For whom, exactly?”

Leto hesitated, visibly flustered. “Could you possibly be referring to me?” Kennard pressed, his golden eyes glinting.

“Of course not, Your Grace,” Leto hurriedly replied, his tone growing more deferential. “It’s just that… since Lady Elena is accompanying you, I was merely expressing my concern.”

“Didn’t I already say I would be with her?” Kennard’s voice was calm, but his gaze sharpened like a blade, slicing through the older man’s feeble objections.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I was worrying needlessly. I must be growing senile in my old age,” Leto muttered, bowing so low that his thin, white hair caught the light.

“Then… when do you intend to go?”

Despite his cautious tone, Leto’s eyes darted nervously toward Kennard, studying the duke’s expression as though fearing he might take the question as defiance.

“Now.”

“Pardon?” Leto asked, his surprise overriding his usual discretion.

Kennard’s eyes narrowed, his tone sharp and clipped. “Do I look like I’m joking? We’re leaving immediately. Prepare everything at once.”

The restrained irritation in his voice sent a ripple of urgency through the room. Leto and the attendants bowed deeply before scurrying toward the servants’ entrance, their hurried footsteps echoing in the hall.

Kennard turned back to Elena, his arm still firmly around her waist. “We should prepare to leave as well. It’s colder in the forest than it is here.”

He grasped her wrist with his free hand, as though ensuring she couldn’t slip away.

“Y-Your Grace,” Elena stammered, her voice catching as the reality of his words began to sink in. “Are you really serious about this?”

Kennard didn’t answer immediately. His steady pace only faltered when her question finally registered. Glancing at her, his reply was simple, yet resolute. “Yes.”

“But…”

Elena trailed off, her feet rooting her in place despite his firm grip.

Kennard, sensing her resistance, stopped and turned to face her fully, his golden eyes piercing. “Why? Do you not want to go?”

“It’s not that…” Elena’s voice wavered, her uncertainty growing. “Are you certain I’m coming along?”

Kennard’s expression remained composed, but there was an unmistakable edge to his reply. “I already said you were. Or do I strike you as someone who speaks in empty words?”

Elena quickly shook her head, her face flushing with heat. “It’s just that… Seven Point Hill is outside the castle, isn’t it? Am I really allowed to go?”

Her voice faltered, and her heart pounded in her chest. The very idea of leaving the castle felt unreal. “Am I really going to leave the castle?”

At her question, Kennard’s gaze softened briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes before his usual steadiness returned.

Elena’s cheeks burned, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment. Unlike the earlier flush caused by the eyes of others on her, this was different.

The memory of her long-held yearning to step beyond the castle walls washed over her, distant yet vivid. And now, faced with the possibility, the thought overwhelmed her.

Moments when Elena realized her feelings for Kennard and tried to distance herself, moments when she endured Hazel’s relentless humiliations while clinging to the fragile promise of freedom—it all felt surreal now.

For so long, her life had been confined within the castle walls. Even during Kennard’s absences, unseen knights had always lingered in the shadows, ensuring she couldn’t escape unnoticed.

And now, just like that, I’m allowed to leave?

Elena’s thoughts churned in turmoil. She wanted to feel joy, the kind of unrestrained elation she had dreamed of for years. But something held her back—a weight she couldn’t name. The unfamiliar sensation left her more confused than ever.

Kennard, sensing her hesitation, turned fully toward her. Closing the distance between them, he cupped her face with both hands. His touch was steady, yet possessive, and his forehead gently pressed against hers, as though he could see into her very soul.

“Yes. You’re really leaving the castle,” he murmured. His golden eyes, darkened with emotions she couldn’t decipher, locked onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

Slowly, Kennard tilted his head, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. Then, with deliberate tenderness, he placed a light kiss on her forehead.

Elena’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, her body responding instinctively to the warmth of his touch. She felt his breath ghost over her eyelids, and then his lips pressed firmly against hers, grounding her in a way that left her trembling.

“With me, you can go anywhere,” Kennard whispered, his lips grazing her eyelashes as his words hung in the space between them.

It was in that moment, as his quiet promise sank into her heart, that Elena finally understood the source of her inner conflict.

The freedom she had so desperately craved existed only because he was by her side. And that freedom, bound to him, was what brought her comfort.