Chapter 62 Lynda’s Papa
The dining was peaceful, servants quietly refilling their wine glasses as they ate.
Everything was supposed to be perfect, but not with Elian.
He felt so out of place, and not once had his legs stopped bouncing under the table. He subtly glanced around, alert, just in case he needed to flee or beg.
He wasn’t used to being served, and what made it worse was the way Lucien acted like everything was just as it should be.
However, all those were internal, but outside, Elian looked composed, as if he wasn’t constantly pulled by an invisible magnet toward the Duke at the head of the table.
He focused intently on his plate—cutting the bacon with precise, sharp movements—to avoid looking at Lucien or Rowan.
"Do you like the bacon?" Rowan asked gently.
Elian nodded, not speaking as he still had his mouth filled with food.
On the other hand, Lucien found himself unable to look away. Not a second passed without his eyes finding their way back to Elian’s unbothered face. He didn’t know why, but he had at least thought to see a flustered Elian by morning.
That face was the same one that twisted beautifully in pleasure, begging him for more and more and more. Those unbothered eyes were the same ones that had looked at him with hunger and lust. Now, Elian sat there, acting as if last night never happened.
’You threw him out,’ he said to himself, fingers clenching around his fork.
Well, it was for the best. What should he have done? Get Elian in bed and let that little troublemaker get under his skin? Have control over him? No way.
Sending him away was his way of staying sane and safe. It was a way to keep his control over Elian.
Getting addicted to his captive was not a part of his curriculum.
"Here," Rowan leaned over and wiped Elian’s lip with a napkin.
"Thank you," Elian smiled softly.
Lucien gritted his teeth; that same voice that always whispered for him to publicly claim Elian awoke. It was whispering consistently, encouraging him to get up, march over to Elian, and kiss him for everyone to see. That way, Rowan, Soren, Cassian, hell, even Rowena would see and know exactly who Elian belonged to.
Elian was slowly torturing him; appearing in white and looking all angelic and innocent did things to Lucien’s heart and body, something he’ll never admit loudly.
"It’s kind of too sour, sets my teeth on edge," Elian politely rejected the peeled orange Rowan was offering him.
"Not this one. These ones are sweet and juicy," Rowan persuaded softly.
Elian was already full; he didn’t think he could take anything in anymore. "Really, Rowan. I’m full."
Rowan sighed, "Okay, just a slice—"
"He is full!" Lucien suddenly snapped, slamming his hand on the table and breathing angrily as he glared at Rowan.
The servants slowly backed away to the shadows, scared.
Elian stiffened, eyes widened in shock as he stared at Lucien, who looked like he was ready to pick his knife and slice his cousin’s throat.
’Why is he so angry?’
Rowan slowly lowered the orange, raising his hands beside his head. "Heard. Heard," he said quietly.
Lucien stood, his chair scraping as he did.
Without speaking to anyone, he stormed out of the dining hall.
’What have I done?’ he thought as he flew down the stairs.
It was getting out of control! Those voices were getting to his head. He can’t keep doing this; if not, people would suspect someone, the maids will talk, and Rowan would definitely figure it out soon.
No, he had to stop whatever he thought he was doing with Elian. One time with Elian was already altering his actions, what happens after the second time? Third, fourth, fifth...
No, he simply cannot risk his reputation and future for the sake of a commoner... a traitor... a very beautiful, charming traitor.
"Fuck!" Lucien cursed as he strode past the guards at the entrance.
The guards bowed, bodies stiff as they saw their Duke looking lethal and ready to kill.
Back inside, Rowan was walking down the stairs with Elian, his forehead etched with concern. Elian was quiet, heart pounding unsteadily as he thought about Lucien.
He dared not get to a conclusion, but he had a series of thoughts winding through his mind.
The first was simple and true: Lucien was possessive of him. That, he had confirmed last night when Lucien claimed him over and over again.
Secondly, jealousy—overruled.
Thirdly, hate—most likely. Lucien might just hate him so much that he hated how Rowan was offering a traitor the mayor’s royal food.
He sighed, unsure of what to believe. But one thing was sure: his brain had already concluded on its own that Lucien was growing protective of him and had reacted that way because he sensed that Rowan was forcing him to do what he didn’t want to.
That was his brain... of course. Not him.
"Do you think he is acting weird?" Rowan asked as they walked toward the exit.
Elian shook his head. "I do not think anything, Rowan. He is just being his usual bitter self," he replied, instantly feeling bad after speaking.
’What was there to feel bad for? Lucien was a bad person!’ he justified within himself.
Rowan chuckled. "My cousin is not bitter—just hurt," he murmured.
Elian paused, staring at Rowan meaningfully.
"Do you want to know what happened?" Rowan questioned, smiling.
Elian nodded. "Will you tell me?"
Rowan smirked. "No."
Elian frowned.
"Not because I don’t want to," Rowan touched Elian’s cheek. "It’s because I do not know—fully. Perhaps you will ask him?" He raised his brow.
Elian laughed very softly. "Yes, I will ask him. And get thrown back in the dungeon, or worse—torched." He blinked and looked away, shaking his head.
"I can never ask something that personal of him. I will be clearly asking for trouble," Elian murmured.
"Lord Rowan," a guard walked over to them.
Rowan lifted his face, arching his brow without speaking.
"His Grace is waiting," the guard informed.
Rowan nodded, turning to Elian. "Let’s go," he said.
Elian frowned. "Go? Where?" He questioned carefully.
"Archery," Rowan provided.
Elian shook his head. "Um—no. I will just be in your way," he said.
"But Lucien already asked for you," Rowan revealed.
Elian stilled, teeth sinking onto his lower lip. "He did?"
Rowan nodded. "Before breakfast. He said you’re lacking in your role as his attendant and therefore must be by his side wherever he goes—except for his chamber," he told Elian calmly.
Elian almost scoffed. ’I’ve already been in his chamber, and he’s already been in me.’
"I understand," Elian murmured.
’Possessive. It’s annoying.’
Rowan gently took Elian’s gloved hand and led him out of the manor.
Elian immediately sighted Lucien, standing under a tree with Soren, hands in his pockets as he listened to what Soren was saying. He looked calm, not like the man who had almost flipped the dining table because his cousin spoke to his—’What was I even to him?’
They were almost close to Lucien when a little human suddenly seized Elian’s leg in a tight hug.
"Elian! Where have you been?!" Lynda beamed up at Elian in excitement, bouncing on her legs.
Elian’s face instantly softened as he turned and gently patted Lynda’s head. "Hey, angel. I’ve been good. How are you?" He smiled, taking her little hand in his.
Lynda giggled, beckoning for Elian to lower his head so she could whisper in his ear.
He did, curious to hear the tea from her little mouth.
"Mother says to not tell, but mother likes Elian. She tells friends how handsome and kind you are," she whispered.
Elian coughed, straightening and smiling politely. "Um, that is lovely to hear, Lynda. Your mother is very kind and beautiful, too," he said.
"Now, I’m curious to know what your mother said, Lynda. Will you tell?" Rowan asked, taking Lynda’s other hand.
"Mother said not to tell," Lynda shook her head as they walked toward the Duke.
Lucien saw Elian walking over and cleared his throat, darting his eyes away to keep from staring at him.
"Good morning, Your Grace. Good morning, Dr. Soren," Lynda curtsied.
"Morning, Lyn, how are you?" Soren asked, touching the girl’s cheek.
"I am very well, thank you. Are you alright, Your Grace?" Lynda asked, peering up at Lucien’s expressionless face.
Elian gently pulled Lynda back, hoping Lucien doesn’t take offense from her question.
To his surprise, Lucien smiled. A warm, soft smile.
"I am fine, Lynda. Why do you ask?" Lucien asked softly.
Elian could not believe his ears. He didn’t know Lucien could speak in such a gentle manner.
Lynda stepped forward again, escaping Elian’s hold to get closer to Lucien.
"I only thought you were angry because Elian was here. The maids talk about how you want to kill Elian because his father—"
"Lynda, that’s enough, angel." Elian pulled her back, standing in front of her.
"I’m sorry, Your Grace, she knows nothing of what she’s saying—"
"But it’s true," Lynda peered out beside Elian’s thigh, looking right at a quiet Lucien. "My mother prays for his safety each night because she wants him to be my papa," she announced, hugging Elian’s leg protectively.
Elian froze, eyes snapping up to meet Lucien’s cold, dark eyes.
’Oh, no, Lynda might be his express ticket to heaven... or hell.’
"Does she now?" Lucien asked, lowering himself into a squat and offering his hand to Lynda. "Come, tell me all about what your mother says," he invited gently.