“Yes, the earth seems to have sunk as last winter’s snow melted,” Serin explained.
“I see,” Kennard murmured, his fingers brushing his lower lip in thought.
“Hazel?” he abruptly shifted topics, causing Serin a moment of confusion.
“What about her?”
“Has she left?”
“Yes,” Serin replied. “She left very early this morning. Her attendants packed quickly, but in their haste, they left a few things behind.”
“Dispose of them,” Kennard ordered curtly.
Serin hesitated. “But there are some valuable items, my lord. Perhaps we could organize and send them after her?”
“Why waste the effort?” Kennard dismissed the suggestion. “How’s Carmen?”
Serin shook his head, a grimace etching his features. “There was nothing left to be done.”
“I see,” Kennard said indifferently. He had witnessed countless deaths, many at his own hand. The news of another, especially someone he held no attachment to, barely registered.
“Old man Leto embalmed the body and loaded it onto a carriage,” Serin explained. “Terra Demorte’s cold temperatures might delay decomposition, but by the time it reaches the Baruchella capital, the effects will be noticeable.”
Kennard stroked his chin, the stubble catching uncomfortably. A kiss or something more with Elena could leave scratches. “I need a shave,” he muttered.
Serin sighed, snapping Kennard out of his reverie. “Your Grace, what about the situation? His Majesty won’t take this lightly.”
“My hands are tied,” Kennard replied. “Carmen’s death falls squarely on Hazel’s shoulders. Let the King blame the Blade Ducal family if he seeks a scapegoat.”
Serin’s expression darkened. “His Majesty will latch onto anything to tighten his control. We know nothing about Count Menelph, Carmen’s father. This is a precarious situation.”
“It matters little,” Kennard said dismissively. “I won’t be drawn into it.”
Serin’s pointed look darted towards the room. “What about Elena? Hazel might have scurried back under threat, but knowing her fiery spirit, she won’t let this go. Elena’s a different story entirely.”
Kennard listened, a single eyebrow rising. The long scar that ran diagonally from his forehead to his eyelid twitched, a flicker resembling a blade. Coupled with his unruly hair, it sharpened his features even further.
Serin, with a sigh that seemed to deflate him, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them. He raised his hands, palms facing Kennard, a gesture of surrender. “Yes, of course, Your Grace. With you here, who would dare harm Elena? It’s just… you seem willing to turn the entire populace against yourself over one woman.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Kennard’s chest. He reached out and patted Serin’s cheek with surprising lightness. “You understand well.”
“Your Grace!” Serin sputtered, frustration lacing his voice. Yet, Kennard offered only a dry smile in response. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I’ll send word shortly. Ensure no one approaches the path from her room to mine.”
“Why?” Serin questioned, brows furrowed.
“When Elena awakens, she’ll be staying with me from now on,” Kennard declared.
“Your Grace, that’s simply too…” Serin stammered.
“Tell Lassino to move all of Elena’s belongings from her room.”
“But Your Grace,” Serin pleaded. “There are not only attendants but also knights in the castle. Additionally, reinforcements of three hundred men have just arrived from the main fortress.”
“So what?” Kennard’s tone remained steady, but his jaw tightened, revealing the simmering irritation beneath his words.
Defeated by Kennard’s mood, Serin swallowed a sigh and slumped his shoulders.
“Her safety is assured. No one, not even His Majesty, will lay a hand on her,” Kennard declared fiercely.
“That much is clear,” Serin conceded, rubbing his face in frustration. For some reason, a blush crept up his earlobes.
Kennard’s frown deepened as he glared at Serin. “Then what troubles you?”
“It’s the pheromones, Your Grace,” Serin blurted, turning away slightly. “They’ve permeated the entire castle. The attendants and knights could barely breathe last night. Headaches, vomiting, even fainting – it’s been a mess. Old man Leto handed out herbal water, but it had little effect. Now you propose sharing your chambers with Elena…constantly? Are you trying to suffocate us all?”
“They’ll adapt,” Kennard dismissed with a curt nod.
Serin’s jaw dropped. “Your Grace!” he exclaimed.
“Don’t meddle,” Kennard commanded, his voice firm.
“But Your Grace!” Serin persisted, his voice laced with worry. “If we deploy the soldiers as planned, who will guard Elena? What if she attempts escape?”
