Lucien stormed out of the infirmary, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.
The door had barely slammed shut when Rowan rushed in, having followed the commotion from the hallway. His face paled at the sight of Elian lying unconscious on the bed, a fresh bloom of red soaking through the bandages on his chest.
"Gods... what happened?" Rowan breathed, immediately moving to Soren’s side.
Soren didn’t answer right away. He was already cutting away the bloodied wrappings with steady but tense hands.
Rowan stepped in without hesitation, standing shoulder to shoulder with the doctor as they worked together to clean the reopened wound. The gash had torn open again, angry and inflamed, weeping fresh blood.
They cleaned it in grim silence, wiping away the crimson with damp cloths, applying fresh salve, and pressing clean bandages firmly over the injury. Rowan’s hands trembled slightly as he held pressure on the wound.
Soren’s jaw was tight. "Do you know what Lucien did to cause this?" he asked quietly, his voice edged with barely contained anger. "The wound was healing. Now it looks like it was ripped open by force."
Rowan shook his head, eyes fixed on Elian’s pale, sweat-slicked face. "No. I don’t know. He looked worse when Lucien brought him in than he did yesterday. Do you think... he’ll make it?"
Both men stared at Elian’s frail form. His breathing was shallow and labored, his lips tinged with blue, his skin deathly pale. He looked far worse than before—like a man standing on the edge of the grave.
Soren let out a long, exhausted sigh and shook his head slowly. "I’m no longer sure what fate this boy was dealt. He keeps fighting, but the world keeps tearing him down." He paused, pressing a fresh cloth to the wound. "If anything happens to Elian... that will be the end of our over eighteen-year relationship. I won’t forgive Lucien. Not this time."
Rowan’s hands stilled on the bandages. His brow furrowed deeply, a flash of anger crossing his face. "Then I’m going to speak to Lucien," he said, his voice low and determined. "Right now. This has gone too far."
Soren glanced at him, something unreadable in his grey eyes, but he only nodded once. "Go. I’ll stay with him."
Rowan gave Elian’s cold hand one last gentle squeeze before straightening. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and resolve as he left the infirmary, heading toward the orchard where he knew the Duke had gone.
The air in the infirmary grew heavier once Rowan left. Soren continued tending to Elian’s reopened chest, his movements careful yet filled with quiet dread. Elian’s life hung by a thread, and the fragile alliances around him were beginning to fracture beyond repair.
Outside, Rowan was on his way to the orchard when he saw someone sitting on the stairs on that cold night. He wanted to ignore him and keep moving, but when he saw who it was, he frowned and stopped.
"What are you doing out here?" Rowan asked behind him.
Finn sighed, "Waiting for Elian to wake up," he murmured.
"He’s not waking up," Rowan gritted his teeth immediately after saying that.
He didn’t mean to; it just slipped out.
Slowly, Finn stood, facing Rowan, "He’s not?" His face was etched with worry as he stared at Rowan.
Rowan sighed, looking away from Finn’s sad face, "Go in, Finn. It’s cold." With that, he resumed walking ahead.
Finn stood there for a while, his fists balled by his sides. He never bore hatred for the Duke because he understood that the Duke was that way because of duty. But at the moment, he could not say the same.
Why was Lucien being so cruel to the only person who was letting him in despite his ruthlessness?
Why was he making the only person who might truly love him suffer?
If Elian died, then he would lose all hope in humanity... in the Duke.
If he could let Elian go, then there was no hope for them.
"It’s really cold out there... come inside," Lysandra said from the front of the door.
Finn furrowed his brows, studying the lady. He had never spoken to her since her arrival with the princess. He believed she was just like Rowena, spoiled and entitled.
But, seeing her that close, he could feel the kindness radiating off her, and something deeper. He could not quite say what it was, but it was more like a buried pain, deeper than guilt, deeper than hate.
One thing was certain: Lysandra might be kind, but she carried her own monster... just like everyone else.
Finn sighed and nodded, walking into the manor with quiet strides.
Meanwhile, in the orchard, Lucien stood in front of that tree where Elian’s mother had caught them together. He was punishing himself by reliving those memories.
He fought to understand why Elian loved him. Not once had he treated him right; even in their passion, he never failed to remind Elian that he was just an object of pleasure.
’Why did he love me?’ He clenched his fist, shutting his eyes tightly as Elian’s beautiful blue eyes haunted him.
He had finally broken Elian’s body, soul, and heart. Elian was dying, and it was his fault.
He should have controlled his needs, he should have stayed away from Elian. But he had never felt so strongly for anyone, never wanted anyone the way he wanted Elian.
Was it love?
No... he just wanted someone who looked at him like he wasn’t a prize to be won, someone who wanted him with the same intensity as he did, someone who did not agree with whatever he said, someone who fought him... someone who loved him even with his monsters.
He found that person, but he had killed that person.
"Argh!!!" He threw his head back and screamed into the dark night, his chest heaving angrily.
’I love you...’ Elian’s soft confession echoed in his head.
"Fuck!" He growled, leaning back against the tree and slowly sliding down to the ground.
No one had ever said that to him.
He wasn’t used to being loved... he did not know how to love, and he did not want to love.
Elian was not being fair; they had not agreed on feelings, why did he let his heart grow them?
"I do not think your frustration will bring him back to life," Rowan’s cold voice spoke beside Lucien.
Lucien froze, and in the blink of an eye, he was on his feet, grabbing Rowan’s collar and pulling him closer.
"What did you say? Bring him back to life?" He seethed lowly.
Rowan did not speak; he simply studied his younger cousin’s broken face, the desperation in Lucien’s eyes, and the way his hand trembled against him.
"Answer me!" Lucien shouted, his voice breaking.
Rowan sighed, "He’s still breathing, Lucien... but I don’t know for how long... you put him through that—"
"You think I don’t know?" He shoved Rowan away, grasping his hair as he clenched his jaw tightly.
Rowan staggered a little, narrowing his eyes at Lucien.
"You know, you don’t have to go through all this... you also have the right to happiness—"
"You don’t tell me what to do. I have chosen my path clearly for a long time now," Lucien replied in a low voice.
"And I believe you. Your path has been unobstructed... until Elian showed up. Am I right?" Rowan asked, moving closer to Lucien.
"He means nothing to me. He was being stubborn, I warned him to stop, I asked him to leave... but he, he just kept rambling nonsense and then, he, he passed out. I did nothing to him if that is what you have come to inquire," he stared, looking away from Rowan.
Rowan smiled sadly, "I know you did nothing to him... you can’t," he said, watching Lucien only fighting his fists but never refuting what he’d said.
"And he doesn’t not mean nothing to you, Lucien... he means everything to you. He has you out here in the dark and cold screaming out to the night, he has you crying, he has you losing your temper, scared, worried. That’s not how we react to people who mean nothing..." Rowan inhaled quietly, placing his hand on Lucien’s shoulder.
"Lucien... you love the boy—"
"I don’t!" He snapped so quickly, pushing Rowan’s hand away from his shoulder, "Mind what you say," he warned darkly.
Rowan shoved his hands in his pockets, watching Lucien for a while, "I am well within my right to believe what I want. And I chose to believe that you love him but you’re being stubborn as usual because you’re so blinded by that secret incident that happened fifteen years ago which you have refused to tell a single soul—"
"Be careful, Rowan..." Lucien’s eyes darkened as he faced Rowan squarely, "pick your next words very carefully; never make reference to that incident. It is only mine to know, and mine to avenge. Are we clear?" he asked slowly.
Rowan chuckled, "But I can speak about how you’re running from your feelings?" he taunted, angry at the way Lucien was being stubborn with his own self.
"I will say it once. Elian is a traitor’s son... he tried to kill me a few minutes ago. I can’t love him... I shouldn’t. Now, if you care enough for my marriage with Rowena, you will be quiet with your stupid assumptions." He turned away.
Rowan scoffed, "Good thing I don’t give a fuck about your sham marriage with that bitch. And cousin..." Rowan took a step backward, "If you won’t love him... there’s actually a handful of men who would. We’re just waiting for you to set the boy free; don’t blame me if I make him your cousin-in-law." He gritted his teeth and walked away.
Lucien stood there, Rowan’s words hitting him hard.
Did he love Elian?
Would he really let someone else take him away?
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