Despite being a noble lady, Hazel had spoken casually about bearing his child to become the next emperor. The audacity of such words left Kennard taken aback. It was evident what kind of relationship would lead to such an outcome, yet the casualness with which she mentioned it astonished him. But there was something else on his mind.
“I want to hear those words from you.”
“What?” Elena’s wide-eyed surprise met his statement. “I wo-wouldn’t say such things first…”
Kennard realized Elena must have misunderstood, thinking he wished for her to make such advances first. He considered correcting her, but decided against it. Whether it was his genuine desire or her misunderstanding, his longing to make her his remained unchanged.
As he silently observed Elena, he pondered what her reaction would be if he were to kiss her flushed cheek. Just the slightest touch seemed to startle her like a rabbit, her body stiffening to the point of collapse. Even the gentlest caress of her flaming red hair made her fair skin blush deeper.
Kennard restrained his desires, having only gone as far as holding her hand or tenderly stroking her hair. Countless times, he had yearned to hold her longer, to touch her more intimately. Yet, he suppressed these urges, often compensating with a fiercer demeanor in Elena’s presence.
While Hazel imposed her unwanted presence upon him, Elena seemed only to wish for distance.
Kennard let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers roughly over his forehead. He noticed Elena flinch, and a pang of guilt washed over him. “It’s because of you, Elena,” he muttered through clenched teeth, holding back the urge to speak his mind.
His gaze wandered down to Elena’s exposed neck peeking out from beneath her cloak. Confined to the room, she wore only lightweight dresses that accentuated her collarbones. A trickle of water meandered along her slender neck, casting delicate shadows on her skin.
“Damn,” Kennard cursed under his breath, tearing his eyes away from the tantalizing sight. As much as he longed to hold her close, he knew he had to restrain himself. Taking advantage of her in her vulnerable state was out of the question. If he were to forcibly embrace her, she would undoubtedly try to escape the confines he had imposed upon her.
With a resigned sigh, Kennard retrieved a small box from his pocket and handed it to Elena. “Open it,” he instructed gently.
Elena accepted the box with a puzzled expression, her curiosity evident. Slowly, she lifted the lid, revealing its contents. Her eyes widened in awe as she beheld the tiny flute nestled inside, crafted from pure gold and adorned with small rubies.
“This is…” Elena began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the words.
Kennard watched her reaction with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, silently urging her to continue.
Observing Elena’s captivated gaze fixed upon the flute, Kennard couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “It’s a royal flute,” he announced proudly, lifting the delicate chain crafted from pure gold that dangled from the instrument. With a gentle sway, the flute caught the sunlight streaming through the window, causing the rubies to gleam with a mesmerizing sparkle.
“A royal flute?” Elena echoed in surprise.
Kennard draped the chain around Elena’s neck, carefully arranging her hair to cascade over it like flowing waves between his fingers. Tempted by the silkiness of her hair, he reluctantly withdrew, giving her space.
“It appears extravagant, but it’s for your protection,” Kennard explained. “With this, you won’t have to venture outside the castle alone, nor will you be at risk of encountering the White Fox Tribe as before. Consider it a precautionary measure.”
Elena’s fingers traced the intricate details of the flute, her touch reverent. “I had considered giving you a dagger for defense, but I thought this might suit you better, because I figured you’d use it on me.” Kennard admitted.
“I would never harm you, Your Highness,” Elena responded earnestly, her surprise evident as she glanced up at Kennard.
His heart clenched at the sudden pallor of her face, wondering if his words had been too presumptuous. However, he spoke honestly, harboring genuine concerns that continued isolation might lead her to desperate measures.
“Carry it with you always. If ever in danger, blow it to signal for aid,” Kennard instructed, his tone gentle yet firm.
Elena nodded in acknowledgment, her fingers still caressing the flute’s surface as she bowed her head. Unable to discern her thoughts, Kennard urged her to try blowing it.
