Chapter 59 The Silent Ride
The carriage ride was a quiet and tension-filled one.
Elian was sitting opposite Lucien, head lowered and fingers laced together.
Lucien hadn’t said a word, and it made him even more uncomfortable with Cassian’s kiss. He knew he owed Lucien no accountability, but he couldn’t stop feeling like he had committed a great sin.
He truly hadn’t known that Cassian was going to kiss him; if he did, he would have found a way to avoid it. No, not because of Lucien, but because he did not like to be taken advantage of.
They were riding through the forests, the sun streaming through the crowded leaves and into their carriage.
Slowly, Elian shifted toward the window, placing himself in the direction of the sun. The morning was quite cold and the sun wasn’t that heated, just shining its soft golden rays down onto the earth.
Lucien watched Elian with millions of feelings coiling in his chest. His fists were clenched on his lap, eyes burning holes into Elian, who seemed to not be aware of his presence in the carriage.
It was going to be a long journey, one they would arrive at only at night, and he couldn’t think of anything more torturous than sitting there and watching Elian’s face, which reminded him of the way Cassian had so gently kissed his lips.
Soon, he saw Elian leaning his head against the window side, his lashes brushing softly against his cheekbones as the sun shone beautifully on his skin.
Lucien was mesmerized by Elian’s beauty; each day, he found himself becoming more and more enthralled by Elian’s mere existence... which off-put him.
His eyes grew their own minds, lowering to Elian’s lips. He gulped, licking his own lips as he remembered exactly how those pink, soft, warm lips felt against his. He had craved them all night, but he had held back for Elian’s sake.
He was wounded, and probably angry.
He didn’t care... that’s what he’d said to Lysandra, and Elian had heard it.
He had meant it. He knew he had meant it; after all, why would he care?
What would it mean if he started to care?
Does he lose his respect?
Does it mean he’d free Elian?
Does he lose something he never even truly had?
If yes, then no, he wouldn’t care. He’d rather remain in control, dictating exactly what Elian could and couldn’t do.
After a short nap, Elian woke up, and the first thing he saw were Lucien’s green eyes staring right at him.
For a second, the world outside the forest seemed to dissolve, and it was just them, cocooned in a world they secretly wished they could exist together, free, and happy.
But Lucien looked away slowly, reminding Elian that that world was non-existent. Apart from Cassian’s kiss, Elian was struggling to understand why Lucien was treating him so coldly.
’Has he perhaps also stopped wanting my body?’ Elian frowned at the floor.
That was the only thing he believed connected him directly to Lucien; if Lucien ever stopped wanting him, then what was his purpose beside him? He suddenly paused his thought, setting his teeth angrily.
He hated himself.
The more he tried to decanter Lucien, the more centralized the monster became.
Why did he suddenly feel like he’d mean nothing if Lucien ever stopped wanting him? Why was he suddenly forgetting his first purpose? Revenge and freedom; those were his course, and so help him God, he would not deviate from them.
After a long, sufferable day, the sun dipped as they finally rolled closer to the stonewall manor.
Elian had dozed a few more times, preferring to shut his eyes than to watch the devastatingly handsome man in front of him.
The carriage wheels rolled into the familiar courtyard and Elian could not believe how relieved he was to be back here. He still hated it here, but now he didn’t have Rowena trying to draw his last breath every ticking second, and his mother was closer.
The door was opened and Elian sat put, waiting for Lucien to leave first. But Lucien didn’t move; he just sat there, staring at Elian with unreadable, heated eyes.
"Elian," Rowan suddenly stuck his head inside the carriage, smiling in excitement.
"Welcome back," he said, offering his hand.
Elian sighed and took Rowan’s hand, allowing himself to be helped out of the carriage.
The moment his feet touched the ground, Rowan pulled him in for a hug.
"Welcome, welcome back, my young friend!" Rowan lifted Elian off the ground, swinging him around as he laughed.
"Ouch, ouch, easy, easy," Elian patted Rowan’s shoulder, wincing.
Rowan immediately placed Elian down, his face etched with concern as he scanned Elian’s body.
"Of course," his face darkened as he saw the dressed wrist, "I was almost doubting if my cousin had turned Saint—"
"He didn’t hurt me," (’At least not physically,’ Elian added sadly.)
Rowan’s face got even darker. "Rowena did," he didn’t question.
Elian sighed. "I’m fine. It’s not that deep of a cut—"
"How many more cuts are you willing to take, Elian?! When does this end for you?" Rowan snapped, turning his head to Lucien who was striding toward the mansion.
Elian shook his head and stepped away from Rowan. "I will remain here as long as my mother is held here. She is the only reason I chose to stay," he told Rowan, skipping the part of his revenge.
Rowan sighed. "I will speak to—"
"No, Rowan," Elian said. "The last thing I want is for me to cause trouble between your family. The Duke might not like me, but he sure likes you; I don’t want to turn bloods against each other." He nodded and turned away, walking toward the manor.
He climbed the stairs, refusing to look toward Soren, who was standing in front of the infirmary, staring at him. He was sure the doctor also had questions about his wrist, but he was done yarning to people about his messy life. It was time he started strategizing rather than relenting.
The scent of the spiked candles welcomed him into the grand hall; his eyes scanning the lean, regal hall with nostalgia.
The human mind was treacherous; if not, why was he feeling like he’d missed this devil’s lair so much?
As he walked toward the short hallway, he realized Finn wasn’t standing at the door as usual and immediately got worried. Where was Finn? Is he okay? Is he dead?
Cassian’s warning rang in his mind again. Never trust royals. That, he knew, but he did not think they would randomly pick innocent people and kill them, right?
He scoffed. "Of course, they can," he murmured.
That’s exactly what they did to his father; randomly selected him and burned him alive.
He glared at the door, wondering what would happen if he snuck into Lucien’s chamber tonight and plunged a dagger through his chest.
"Elian, welcome back," Finn suddenly emerged from behind the door, giving Elian a brief smile.
Elian slowly exhaled. "You’re alright." He smiled.
Finn knitted his brows. "I am. You?" he asked.
Elian nodded. "I am. It’s good to see you again," he muttered.
Finn sighed. "The Duke has asked for you, Elian. He asked me to inform you that you have five minutes to bring yourself ready... whatever that meant," he spoke softly.
Elian’s heart skipped a beat for a few reasons. Firstly, Lucien still wanted him—his body. Secondly, he knew exactly what Lucien meant by "ready" and he could not stop the excitement bubbling inside him, and thirdly, he was scared.
He was scared of what this final step would born. What happens after he completely surrenders himself to his enemy? Would his vengeance die? Would he still have the zeal to fight back? To seek revenge?
"Elian?" Finn snapped his fingers in front of Elian’s face.
Elian blinked rapidly, clearing his throat. "Yes, thank you for informing me. I will be on my way now," he said and hurriedly slid through the door.
As he climbed the stairs, his heartbeat kept getting faster and faster, but it was never from the long climb; rather, the anticipation of what Lucien wanted to do to him was making his blood sing.
Yes, he’d promised himself to withhold his emotions from showing, but he never promised himself to stop his body from craving, yearning, and longing to be touched. In the end, he was just a man, searching for any source of comfort in his solitary world.
He approached Lucien’s door slowly, trying to calm his nerves and trembling limbs. He paused in front of the gigantic door and shut his eyes.
"I’m sorry, Mama," he whispered before he lifted his hand and knocked twice, holding his breath.
Slowly, the door pulled open, creaking softly.
"Come in," Lucien murmured, watching Elian with predatory eyes.
Gulping quietly, Elian walked into the room, his gaze cast down as he paused in the middle.
The door was locked behind him, cementing the happening of the deed.
He stiffened as Lucien’s footsteps marched toward him, pulses jumping higher than they’ve ever jumped. He could feel it, Lucien’s warm breath behind his neck, causing his lips to part in a small gasp.
"Take off your clothes... bend over that table," Lucien instructed huskily, inhaling Elian’s hair before he slowly stepped away.