Elian couldn’t get the food down his throat; it was almost like his throat had closed up after a week with no food.
He was taken to Rowan’s wing, and the male servants had helped to wash him since he could barely move his weak limbs.
"It’s okay, you can drink some water," Rowan said, gently lifting the glass to Elian’s lips.
Elian slowly took a few sips and swallowed, clearing his throat quietly.
"I’m full, thanks," he managed a smile.
Rowan looked at the barely eaten meal and sighed, "You have to eat, Elian. Starving will not make him love—"
"It’s not about him," Elian murmured, balling his fists.
Rowan arched his brow slowly, "Then, what is it about?" he asked calmly.
Elian shook his head, "I don’t just feel like eating. Can we go see Lynda now?" he asked.
Rowan had been postponing his visit to Lynda, saying they would go after Elian was washed and fed.
He didn’t want to sit around all day moping at the wall. A week alone in the dungeon was all the quiet he could ask for, imagining a lifetime. Rowan thought Lucien was the reason for his mood; well, not practically, he was just trying to organize his feelings and be normal.
Yea, Lucien lurked in that dark corner of his mind, waiting to consume him whole, but Elian was not going to give him that leverage over him anymore. He needed to be with someone pure and innocent... like Lynda.
"Perhaps we can see her in the evening; the sun is quite hot, and you need to rest well before you can move around freely," Rowan suggested.
Elian frowned, standing from the leather chair and almost falling.
"Easy, easy," Rowan caught him, hugging him close to himself.
"You see what I’m saying... your legs need to get used to walking again... Soren said so," he whispered.
Elian sighed, "Then help me," he said, "Please," he lifted his face upward, locking his eyes with Rowan’s.
Rowan gulped, darting his eyes away from Elian, "Lucien is a fool," he murmured under his breath.
"What?" Elian asked, blinking innocently.
Rowan chuckled, "I said, my cousin is such a fool... for letting you go," he repeated calmly.
Elian looked away, his jaw clenching, "It’s better. I have no future with him... or anyone in this manor," he replied.
"That’s not true," Rowan gently took Elian’s hand and placed it over his shoulder, then he slid his hand around Elian’s waist, holding him up, "You still have a chance with me," he smiled down at Elian.
Elian chuckled, shaking his head, "You’re my friend, Rowan... my first royal friend," he murmured.
Rowan gasped, leading Elian slowly toward the door, "You have other royal friends?" he asked in mock disappointment.
Elian shrugged, "Not that I can call them that, but, yes. I assume Cassian, Lysandra, and Soren are my friends," he said quietly, watching Rowan’s free hand unlock the door.
"Well then, I am happy I am your first friend," Rowan pulled his door open, guiding Elian out.
Rowan led Elian gently through the corridors toward the infirmary, his arm securely wrapped around the younger man’s waist to support his still-weak legs. The walk was slow and intimate, their bodies pressed close as Elian leaned heavily on him. Rowan’s touch was careful, almost protective, but Elian’s mind was elsewhere — fixed on the small girl who had become his light in this dark place.
When they finally pushed open the infirmary door, the room felt too quiet. Elian’s eyes immediately went to Lynda’s bed.
It was empty.
The sheets were neatly folded, the small pillow untouched. No sign of the girl who had once curled up against him with dragonflies in her eyes. A cold dread settled in Elian’s chest.
"Rowan... where is she?" he whispered, his voice already cracking.
Rowan’s arm tightened around him. "Something feels off..."
The door opened behind them. Soren stepped in, carrying a tray of fresh bandages. The moment he saw them standing by the empty bed, his face tightened with reluctance.
"Soren," Elian said sharply, turning toward him. "Where is Lynda?"
Soren hesitated, setting the tray down slowly. "Elian... you should sit down first."
"Tell me," Elian snapped, his voice rising with panic. He pulled away from Rowan’s support, swaying on his feet. "Now!"
Soren exhaled heavily, his eyes filled with regret. "We lost her early this morning. Her condition worsened overnight. Rosalie... her mother took her body back to their hometown to bury her."
The words hit Elian like a physical blow. His knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor with a broken sob, hands clutching at the cold stone as grief crashed over him in waves.
"Lynda..." he choked out, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. Memories flooded his mind — her bright smile when she called him her papa, the way her small hand had wiped his tears by the river, her fierce little voice telling him he was loved. "I should have let her call me papa... I should have said yes every time she asked. She died without a papa... because I was too scared to be one for her."
His shoulders shook with harsh, ragged sobs. The pain in his chest felt sharper than any wound. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, angel..."
Rowan knelt beside him instantly, pulling Elian into his arms. "Elian... I’m so sorry."
But Elian’s grief hardened into something colder. Through the tears, his resolve solidified like steel. He would never go back to Lucien. Never let that man pull him into his darkness again.
He would find out the Duke’s secrets another way — through Rowena, if he had to. Whatever it took to break free from this nightmare.
The loss of Lynda marked a breaking point for Elian, pushing him further away from Lucien and deeper into his own path of survival and truth-seeking.
Later that evening, Rowan was walking beside Elian in the courtyard as Elian gently supported himself with a walking staff.
Elian had gone completely quiet after hearing about Lynda. He seemed to be lost in his own world.
Rowan did not bother to speak to him, either; he knew the young man was filled with grief, and forcing him to chat would simply be insensitive. He would rather continue to accompany him in silence.
They quietly walked around the garden, watching the few maids watering or tending to the colorful plants.
"Do you want to sit?" Rowan asked as they approached a brown bench under a tree.
Without speaking, Elian went over to the bench and lowered himself on it, placing the walking staff beside him. He stared ahead, locking his gaze with the way a certain maid’s fingers tended the earth around a beautiful sunflower, her fingers darkened by the black sand as she raked the dirt around the plant.
Earth... very fruitful, but also very destructive.
Elian could not stop the image of Lynda buried under the earth. If only humans grew like plants, he’d simply wait until the time came to harvest Lynda. But humans were not plants; once buried... always buried.
"She’s in a better place," Rowan murmured, watching Elian’s unreadable face.
"She is," Elian agreed slowly, "This world does not deserve her. She was too pure for it," he smiled, watching the way the sunflower danced gently to the wind.
"She was my sunflower," he murmured.
Truly, she was. Whenever she was near, things suddenly did not feel so dark anymore, and he magically felt like there was truly a light at the end of the tunnel. But, someone had uprooted his sunflower, ridding his garden of color and life.
"She would be proud of her papa... he’s doing so strong for her," Rowan said, placing his hand over Elian’s knee.
Elian smiled for the first time since morning, "I hope so," he inhaled quietly.
"I said more roses, Jacinta, whatever am I to do with sunflowers on my engagement ball?" Rowena’s voice sounded from the near distance.
Elian stilled, his grief washing over him afresh. The grief of losing Lucien, the grueling of losing himself, and the worst of them all, the grief of losing his angel, Lynda.
"Do you want us to go in now?" Rowan asked.
Elian slowly shook his head, his body looking as relaxed as ever.
Why go in, when his target had just arrived?
"I’m sorry, your majesty, I will plant more roses—"
"Useless, it’s in two days, they won’t grow," Rowena walked over, her arm hooked firmly around Lucien’s.
Elian’s composure faltered for a second; he hadn’t expected to see the devil with her groom. But what could he say? Peas in a pod, right?
He kept his eyes locked on the sunflower, refusing to make contact with Lucien. Looking at him would only heighten his imagination of how Lucien had pleasured Rowena, and he was past that.
However, he did need to make contact... with Rowena’s hand.
"I’m sorry, your majesty, please, forgive me," Jacinta begged.
"The flowers are fine, Jacinta. Carry on," Lucien said, his eyes scanning the garden slowly until he suddenly paused.
He did not pay attention to Jacinta’s plea because his eyes had found something more mesmerizing and beautiful than any flower in that garden... a little broken, but still perfect.
Elian sat elegantly on the bench, his face turned away from Lucien. Lucien saw right through his stoic pose.
He knew how deep Lynda’s death affected Elian, and he wished he could do more than just stand and wish.
"Oh, dear, it’s Elian," Rowena said sweetly.
Lucien frowned, his instinct telling him to get those two apart immediately.
"It is alright if you want to go in—"
"No, no. Come, my love, let us go." Rowena pulled Lucien toward Elian.
"I must let him know that I hold no grudge for what he did to me," she smiled in a sickeningly sweet way.
Lucien just knew that something bad was about to happen.
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