“Your Grace? How did you—” Elena began, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.
Kennard’s gaze sharpened as he took in Elena’s appearance, his eyebrow quirking inquisitively. With a gentle touch, he lifted her chin, inspecting her face with a scrutinizing eye.
Her features, delicate and refined, held a certain vulnerability softened by the rosy hue of her cheeks. Despite the subtle signs of improvement since her arrival, there was a troubling anomaly that caught Kennard’s attention.
“Why is your cheek swollen?” Kennard’s voice was tinged with concern, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the slight puffiness marring Elena’s otherwise flawless complexion.
Elena met his gaze with a mixture of surprise and apprehension, her eyes widening as if caught off guard by his scrutiny. She swallowed nervously, her slender throat working visibly.
Kennard’s patience waned as Elena struggled to respond, a flicker of frustration dancing behind his eyes.
“That’s…” Elena began, her voice faltering as she searched for an explanation. “I… I was descending from the bed and… accidentally struck my foot against the pillar,” Elena explained hesitantly, her words coming out in a rush.
Kennard’s expression darkened, his suspicion growing with each hesitant word that left Elena’s lips.
“You struck it against the pillar?” Kennard repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. Elena nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet his penetrating stare.
Kennard turned his head towards the bed, his gaze falling upon the pillars that framed it, their slender forms adorned with cascading chiffon curtains.
“The bed pillar?” Kennard’s voice was tinged with incredulity, his brows furrowing in confusion.
Elena’s response was barely audible, her eyes fixed on the bed as she confirmed his suspicions.
Kennard’s irritation grew, his attention momentarily shifting to Cura, who stood nearby, uncertain and tense, perhaps anticipating interrogation regarding Elena’s injury.
“Cura, wait outside,” Kennard commanded.
Cura nodded in understanding, casting a quick glance at Elena before exiting the room, leaving the knights to discreetly observe from the periphery.
“I should consider removing or replacing that pillar,” Kennard mused aloud, his gaze returning to Elena, who seemed flustered by his suggestion.
“No, there’s no need for that. It was my carelessness. I’ll be more cautious,” Elena insisted.
Kennard’s scrutiny intensified as he gently lifted Elena’s cloak, his touch tracing down her wrist to her elbow, revealing no sign of injury beyond the swollen cheek.
“Anywhere else?”
Elena’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she shook her head, her gaze momentarily meeting his before she nervously patted down her opposite arm.
“Truly, there’s nothing,” Elena reassured him, her words tinged with a hint of desperation.
Kennard’s gaze lingered on the faint scars that marred her skin, remnants of past trials and recent battles. Anger surged within him at the sight of the still-red scars, a visceral reminder of the dangers Elena had faced.
As memories of the White Fox Tribe attack flooded his mind, Kennard felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
As realization dawned upon him, Kennard released Elena’s wrist with a sheepish apology, his fingers uncurling from their tight grip.
“Ah… sorry,” he murmured, his tone contrite, though he still retained a gentle hold on her wrist.
“You mentioned wanting to speak with me, didn’t you?” Kennard continued, his gaze searching Elena’s face for any hint of discomfort or distress. He had arrived promptly after receiving Cura’s message earlier that morning, intuitively understanding the reason for Elena’s request without needing it spelled out for him.
“If you had simply bid me farewell, I would have come to you,” Kennard remarked, a hint of reproach lacing his words as he recalled the moments leading up to his unexpected visit.
Elena’s expression shifted, surprise mingling with regret at Kennard’s sudden appearance.
“Did you want to leave this place?”
The question seemed to strike a chord with Elena, her lower lip caught between her teeth in contemplation. However, Kennard quickly dismissed the idea, his concern for Elena’s safety outweighing any desire for temporary freedom.
Though she was not confined like a prisoner, Kennard couldn’t bear the thought of Elena wandering beyond his sight, fearing she might vanish without a trace. He had implemented strict measures to ensure her security, allowing her only brief excursions to the bathroom under close supervision of the knights.
