The idea that Kennard might reciprocate her feelings seemed like nothing more than wishful thinking, a fragile hope she couldn’t bring herself to fully embrace. Even if by some chance Kennard did harbor the same emotions, she couldn’t deny the possibility that he might already be bound to another. If he were, indeed, tied to someone else, he would inevitably depart from her side. This fear gnawed at her, distinct from the prospect of his marriage to Hazel. It was this fear that fueled her desire to distance herself from him, to leave before he could abandon her.
Despite enduring countless humiliations at Hazel’s hands, Elena found herself perpetually scheming her escape from the castle, from Kennard. In her efforts, she had always feigned ignorance of the hand Kennard extended towards her. But now, the disparity in their feelings mattered little. She wanted to seize his hand, to intertwine their destinies.
“I want you,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What?” Kennard’s eyes widened at her unexpected declaration.
“I want you, Your Grace. Please, take me with you.”
Why did uttering those words feel like wrenching open a sealed chest, releasing a flood of pent-up emotions? Tears streamed down Elena’s cheeks, no longer held back by the dam of her reluctance.
“Finally, you say it,” Kennard whispered tenderly as he wiped away her tears. He shed his coat and enveloped her in it, cradling her as though she were made of delicate porcelain. Water cascaded from their bodies, mingling with the pool below as a cold wind swept through the shattered roof of the greenhouse. Despite the chill, being ensconced in Kennard’s embrace brought a warmth to Elena’s soul that defied the biting cold.
Kennard, holding Elena close, stepped out of the fountain and abruptly halted, turning to fix his steely gaze on Hazel.
“I’ll give you until tomorrow morning,” he declared, his voice resonating with an unmistakable edge. “It’s in your best interest to vacate this castle promptly. And never again presume to present yourself before Elena or me.”
With each word, Elena sensed the simmering fury coursing through Kennard’s sturdy frame.
“What significance does this wretched woman hold for you that you treat me with such disdain?” Hazel’s voice cracked with emotion, her features contorted with frustration.
“Why?!” Her words rang out, punctuated by the chill of the damp air, her shivering form a stark contrast against the backdrop of Kennard and Elena.
Serin, Cura, and the knights stood frozen, their gazes darting between Hazel and Kennard, stunned by the unprecedented confrontation unfolding before them.
“Silence.” Kennard’s command cut through Hazel’s tirade, his voice lower than usual yet filled with a restrained intensity that chilled the greenhouse air.
“This is your final warning,” he continued, his words laden with an ominous weight. “Should you dare lay a hand on what belongs to me again, I will show you no mercy.”
Elena knew without doubt that Kennard meant every syllable. The anger swirling in his deep golden eyes sent a shiver down her spine, the palpable aura of menace making her tremble involuntarily.
Kennard’s gaze softened as he looked down at Elena. “Let’s get you warmed up with some hot water when we return,” he suggested, his once cold and steely eyes now gentle. He cast a brief glance back at the knights remaining in the greenhouse.
“After sunrise tomorrow, anyone not among my people still within the castle may be dealt with, regardless of their status.”
“Yes, sir!” came the swift and dutiful responses from Serin and the knights as Kennard turned to leave.
***
Elena gazed silently at Cura’s reflection in the mirror before settling into a chair. Cura, who had been drying Elena’s hair with a thick cloth, managed a strained smile when their eyes met. Her eyes were swollen from crying, barely able to open, and her usually cheerful freckles seemed subdued, reflecting her current state.
Cura hadn’t had a moment’s rest, immediately attending to Elena’s needs upon their return to the castle. Despite Kennard’s attempts to delegate the task to another maid, Cura insisted on seeing it through herself.
Elena gently took the cloth from Cura’s hand, placing it on her lap before grasping Cura’s hand in return. “It’s alright now,” she assured softly.
