“The rest are just ordinary folks, farmers or shopkeepers,” Serin explained. “They can’t talk to foxes anymore. Their wildness has been bred out, though they can still be dangerous with a weapon in hand. Do you think you can handle them alone? That’s why the Duke doesn’t want you to go to the village.”
Elena felt a wave of suffocation press down on her. Kennard’s concern, rather than comforting, sent a prickle of unease down her spine. Am I being unrealistic? she questioned internally. What exactly am I hoping for?
A gentle pat on the shoulder startled her from her thoughts. “Hazel will be back in the capital soon,” Serin assured her, “and eventually, His Grace will likely allow you your previous freedoms. Do you truly want to remain cooped up in your room?”
“Serin Elus!”
Before either could react, a thick, heavy scent filled the air. Simultaneously, Kennard’s voice boomed through the corridor. Elena and Serin whipped around, eyes wide with surprise.
Standing at the far end of the hallway, framed by flickering torchlight, was Kennard. The flames danced erratically, as if disturbed by an unseen wind. Even from a distance, Elena could detect a spark of youthfulness in his gaze, a spark brighter than the torches themselves.
“Your Grace!”
Kennard’s approach was marked by the deep bows of the knights, maintaining their respectful posture. Like a predator traversing its domain at the apex of the food chain, he exuded both leisure and majesty, yet his eyes, even from a distance, held the glint of glacial ice. As Kennard drew closer, an invisible pressure settled on Elena, pinning her to the spot.
“Haven’t you gone to bed?” Serin’s voice, though attempting composure, betrayed a tremor at the Duke’s unexpected arrival. Elena, however, was oblivious. Her gaze remained fixed on Kennard, mesmerized and terrified in equal measure.
Gone was his usual cloak, replaced by a luxurious silk robe that offered little in the way of modesty. Despite the sunless confines of Terra Demorte, his skin held a healthy bronze sheen, and the muscles beneath, sculpted with the precision of a sculptor’s knife, were on full display. Elena gaped, unable to tear her eyes away. It wasn’t just the undeniable appeal of his exposed upper body, but the scars etched across his skin, a constellation of marks mirroring the ones hidden beneath her own clothing, that held her captive.
“Did you come here assuming I was still in bed?” Kennard growled as he approached them, his voice laden with accusation.
Serin offered an awkward smile. “Of course not. I just happened to pass by and had a brief conversation with Elena.”
Kennard stared at them in silence for a moment before reaching towards Elena’s neck. Her body recoiled instinctively, a whimper trapped in her throat. But the scream that erupted belonged to Serin.
“Ugh. Your Grace!” Serin cried out as Kennard seized his wrist, which had been resting on Elena’s shoulder, and slowly raised it into the air. Blood drained from where Kennard’s grip held tight, turning Serin’s wrist a ghastly white. Below, his fingers seemed to dig into the flesh, pushing blood up, turning his palm and fingertips an angry red.
Veins bulged on Serin’s forehead, his eyes wide with astonishment.
“Weren’t you supposed to be going through documents in the office?” Kennard’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it carried more menace than a roar.
“I was,” Serin replied, his voice strained.
“So why are you here? The office is downstairs. Serin Elus, did you dare to relocate the office without my permission in just one hour?” Kennard’s murmured words felt like a threat, uttered so close that it seemed his nose might touch Serin’s face at any moment.
Elena felt the urge to intervene and calm Kennard down, but she hesitated. Interfering between them felt similar to a small herbivore leaping between predators.
“It truly was by chance. I was just passing by, saw Elena, and stopped to talk,” Serin explained, gesturing towards Elena even as he endured the pain in his arm.
At his words, Kennard turned to look, and Elena instinctively took a step back. For some inexplicable reason, whenever Kennard’s gaze fell upon her, her body moved instinctively, as if sensing a threat, involuntarily trying to distance herself from him. Despite knowing that it only agitated Kennard further, she couldn’t help it. And it was the same this time too.
Observing Elena stepping back, one of Kennard’s eyebrows rose, the long scar running from his forehead through his eyebrow seeming to writhe more fiercely.
“So?” Kennard released Serin’s hand as if nothing had happened and approached Elena.
“Why are you in this condition again?”
