The dining hall was terribly quiet; the maids held their breaths as they served Lucien’s food.

​Lucien sat still... too still, staring intensely at the end of the table, his mind loud.

​He knew Elian was out there—cold, hungry, and hurting.

​He was starting to wonder if it was right to let him stay out, since he was still recovering. What if his injury got worse?

​He needed him healed, right?

​Then why did he send him out?

​Because of what Rowan had said.

​Elian was right; why did he have to punish him for what Rowan said? Especially when it was a lie?

​But where was Rowan? Why was he absent from dinner?

​He stood, moving toward the door.

​"Y-Your Grace..." one of the maids called as she saw Lucien leaving.

​"Cover it up," Lucien said without looking back.

​He left the dining hall and asked one of his guards at the door to go fetch Rowan.

​"Tell Lord Rowan that his presence is needed in the dining hall," he ordered.

​"Your Grace... the guards at the gate said they saw him entering the stables with the traitor’s son—"

​"When was this?" Lucien cut him off, eyes darkening.

​The guard gulped visibly, taking a step back. "A short moment before dinner, Your Grace," he answered.

​Immediately, Lucien turned and strode down the stairs, his vision almost blurring from anger.

​Elian was with Rowan? Alone in an enclosed place?

​He might not be guilty of what Rowan accused him of with Elian, but deep in his heart, he knew Rowan might just not be free of the same accusation. Therefore, he couldn’t let them be together... unsupervised.

​The moment he stepped out of the stonewall castle, he felt the guards behind him.

​"Stay!" he barked.

​Clenching his jaw, he strode faster, the urge to separate Elian from Rowan increasing with each step.

​As he approached the dark stables, his steps slowed as Rowan’s low laughter reached his ears. He quieted his pace and listened in.

​"So, he... really sent you out here to prove he doesn’t like you..." Rowan’s slurred words echoed from the stables.

​"Yes."

​Hearing Elian’s tired voice shoved unwanted guilt down his throat; he swallowed, taking another step toward the door.

​Rowan chuckled again. "My cousin... he’s a nice man—"

​"To you, maybe. And to others, but never to me. I am the son of a traitor whom he’s keeping close to use and kill. He is a monster to me, and somehow, I’m a monster in his eyes, too," Elian’s calm voice explained quietly in the dark.

​Lucien gritted his teeth, frowning.

​Did Elian really see him as a monster? Kill him in the end? Who told him that?

​Lucien clenched his fists, rage pushing him forward.

​"You’re no monster, Elian. Tell you what—ah, my head hurts," Rowan groaned, laughing lowly.

​"Maybe you should just get some sleep; it will help—"

​"No, hear me out," Rowan murmured. "How about, after whatever deal you have with my cousin is done, you come with me. I mean, it’s not like people here are that receptive of you or your mother. I’m simply offering a new start."

​Lucien’s steps halted in front of the door, eyes straining to control the sudden rage that surged in his veins.

​He needed to hear Elian’s answer.

​Would he agree?

​It wasn’t as if he was bothered about Elian leaving, but the fact Elian might answer without consulting his owner was a direct insult.

​"Um..." Elian’s voice echoed softly, "I would love that. But I need to make it out alive, first," he said.

​"Don’t worry, pretty boy, my cousin won’t kill you... I’ll make sure of that," Rowan yawned. The sound of hay rustling followed.

​Lucien was beyond livid.

​Elian was planning to leave? With Rowan?

​Elian hated him that much that he was already thinking of eloping with his cousin.

​Fine.

​Then he shall make certain that it never happens. Elian is free only when he permits it, and as long as he lives and breathes, Elian is his prisoner.

​Quietly, he turned and returned to the mansion.

​Elian said he was a monster?

​Then let the monster be unleashed.

​"Good morning, Lord Rowan," Elian greeted as Rowan stirred awake on the floor.

​He was standing close to the black horse’s stall, petting its head gently as Rowan pushed himself off the floor.

​"Damn it, I must have had one too many pints. Ugh," he held his hand against his head, moving toward Elian.

​"Good morning, Elian, horse," he waved at the horse before putting his arm around Elian’s shoulder.

​"Walk me in, will you?" Rowan asked softly.

​Elian nodded. It was a new day, and he was now allowed to return to the mansion... unless Lucien wanted otherwise.

​"Bye, beautiful," Elian whispered to the horse and turned to Rowan. "Are you sure you don’t want me calling the guards to help you?" he questioned.

​Rowan shook his head, looking into Elian’s eyes. "No. You’re all I need," he whispered.

​Elian’s eyes widened just a tad before he looked away, clearing his throat.

​"Very well, let’s go," Elian muttered.

​Elian managed to take Rowan into the mansion, breathing heavily as he walked toward the royal wing.

​"Your Grace."

​Elian suddenly froze as he heard the guards behind greeting Lucien, his hand slightly loosening on Rowan.

​"Take him to his chamber," Lucien’s cold voice ordered.

​Before Elian or Rowan could react, two guards came and took Rowan from his side, gently leading him up the stairs.

​Slowly, Elian turned to face Lucien, but he was already leaving, leaving behind a quiet Ms. Beck.

​"You are asked to return to your room, Elian. Breakfast will be brought to you," Ms. Beck informed.

​Elian frowned.

​Strange.

​Lucien was ignoring him. If not, why had he missed the opportunity to threaten him or bestow another punishment on him?

​Sighing softly, he nodded.

​"Morning, Ms. Beck," Elian murmured and walked away.

​That morning, Elian didn’t hear or see Lucien. Not through the window, not in his room. He didn’t even hear anything from Lucien’s chamber beside his; it was almost as if the Duke wasn’t in the mansion.

​However, he could feel Lucien. He couldn’t explain how he could feel Lucien, but he did. He was quite sure that the devil was still walking the grounds of his mansion.

​A day suddenly turned to days, and days bled into a week; still, no sign of Lucien.

​For seven moons, Elian was locked in his room like some privileged prisoner, being fed with the finest food but never allowed to step through the door... the Duke’s orders.

​He was about to go mad with the quietness; his only companions were the twittering birds that visited his windows during the day, the setting sun, and the beautiful moon. But soon, he was getting tired of the repeated scenery; he had almost forgotten what his voice sounded like.

​The only good thing he was grateful for was how fast he healed. Ms. Beck had brought over the healing oil from Lucien’s chamber, and each day, he managed to apply it to himself. Thankfully, he was healed, leaving just a few stubborn marks which would still clear after a few days.

​Soon, night came again and Elian lay in bed staring at the ceiling with a frown.

​Why is he avoiding me? he thought.

​No, he didn’t really care that he didn’t see Lucien’s face; he just thought that this secret mission would have started already. The faster he finished it, the faster he left his side.

​Suddenly, a soft creak drifted into Elian’s room, and before he knew it, he sprang up and jumped out of bed in the blink of an eye, heart racing.

​He was here!

​Lucien had returned to his chamber tonight!

​Rushing toward the door, Elian paused and ran back to the bed, grabbing his shirt and pushing his hands into it in a hurry. He fixed the buttons in a blur and hurried out of his room.

​He had to get to Lucien before he mysteriously disappeared again.

​He needed to make that demand!

​Stepping out of his room, his heart thudding loudly, he knew he was breaking Lucien’s rule of never stepping out until permitted. But he couldn’t keep sitting like a locked princess waiting for his Prince Charming to save him. He was his own Prince Charming.

​With a deep, shaky breath, he knocked on Lucien’s tall door, tapping his foot anxiously on the floor.

​No response.

​He was starting to doubt his hearing. Did he really hear the door creak, or was he getting delusional?

​He lifted his hand, ready to knock on the door again, when it was slowly pulled open from the inside.

​Lucien emerged, his white shirt unbuttoned and untucked, his black hair looking like the wind had tossed it at a few different angles—but heavens, if he didn’t look mouth-watering that way.

​Lucien stared at Elian in front of his door; the first thing his eyes went to was how uneven the shirt was buttoned. Then, his eyes slowly traveled up his face, and that’s where he got stuck.

​It had been seven moons without seeing those blue eyes, and looking into them now, that stir he’d tried so hard to kill within him reared its head like a hungry dragon, his fingers clenching against the door frame as he allowed himself to gaze onto Elian’s radiant and beautiful face.

​"Where have you been?"

​Elian’s soft voice drew Lucien away from his thoughts, forcing him to the present.

​He frowned, arching his brows at Elian.

​"Return to your chamber, young Morel. I did not permit your freedom," Lucien stated coldly and went to shut his door, but Elian’s hand shot out and held the door, stopping him from closing it.

​"What do you think you’re doing?" Lucien’s eyes turned cold, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

​Elian gulped, afraid but never cowering.

​"I asked..." he said shakily, locking his gaze with Lucien’s, "Where have you been?"

​A cold chuckle vibrated from Lucien’s chest, his arms folding across his chest. "And who are you to question me, Elian?"

​Blinking slowly, Elian took a shallow breath, trying to steady the frantic hammering in his chest as he summoned a courage he didn’t truly possess. He stepped forward, bridging the distance until he was standing right in the taller man’s space, close enough to feel the radiating heat of Lucien’s body.

​"I am the truth seeker..." He gulped, his voice trembling as he forced himself to meet that piercing gaze. "And I demand you tell me why and where you have disappeared to for seven—ah!"

​Elian’s heart lurched into his throat as the world tilted. In a predatory blur of motion, he was hauled off his feet and slammed back. The wood of the door groaned behind him as his spine collided with it, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp. Before he could recover, Lucien’s hand was there, his fingers wrapping firmly around the column of Elian’s throat—not crushing, but dominant and unyielding.

​"Now, Elian..." Lucien hissed, crowding into him until there wasn’t a whisper of space left between them. He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of Elian’s ear as he spoke in a low, dangerously husky rasp. "I think you are forgetting our rules."

​The words were a dark velvet caress, his breath scorching hot against Elian’s flushing cheek, sending a violent shiver racing down Elian’s spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the man pinning him to the door.