Chapter 20: 20 Scrapes of Dignity
Elian gasped, curling his fingers in to stop whoever it was from making contact with his hand.
"You never mentioned you had some royal friend visiting," the man holding Elian’s wrist walked out from the shadows, never releasing him.
Elian was awed by the man’s height.
He towered over him, black hair slicked back to reveal his handsome face. Brown eyes bored down at him, making him feel at ease by the way they held a secret mirth. He was dressed like a noble, yet his aura was carefree and welcoming.
"He is no royalty, Rowan. Unhand the traitor," Lucien’s cold voice echoed behind them.
Rowan narrowed his eyes slightly, regarding Elian with interest.
"You look nothing like a traitor," Rowan murmured and released Elian’s wrist.
Elian cast his gaze down, hating the wave of ease that washed over him. He should never feel at ease around a noble. They could smile in your face and still push your cart off a cliff.
Rowan turned away, walking toward Lucien beside the table.
"You look troubled, cousin... as always," Rowan pointed out, leaning against the table.
Lucien remained unfazed, his eyes glancing at Elian beside the door.
"How is he?" Lucien asked, gently pulling his glove up his wrist.
"Same... it’s good, right?" Rowan questioned.
Lucien’s jaw flexed, his fists clenching.
"It’s no good," Lucien murmured, walking to the head of the table.
Rowan sighed, "Maybe it’s good he doesn’t remember—"
"Enough, Rowan. Will you join me for dinner?" Lucien cut him off, voice steady.
Rowan chuckled, "Of course, I’m hungry from traveling." He said, lowering himself on the chair by the side of the table.
The door suddenly opened and a guard stepped in.
"Your Grace, they bring dinner," he announced and stepped aside.
Three maids carrying the food in were dressed in neat uniforms and their hair neatly clipped. Elian’s mouth watered from the aroma of the food. He swallowed hard, looking away from the food to stop himself from drooling. But he was starving, and his stomach was starting to protest.
The sound of delicate silverware clicked softly as the maids distributed the food. Soon, the maids quietly left the dining hall.
"Mm, your women are so good... not just at cooking, cousin," Rowan commented as he ate.
"Refrain from my servants, Rowan—"
"Oh, live a little, cousin. It’s just sex, not a crime. Speaking of crimes... what was his?" Rowan pointed a fork to Elian.
Elian, who was already facing the door, planning his quiet exit, froze. He thought he could step out and allow them to dine instead of making a fool of himself by staring at them like a scavenger.
"Going somewhere, Young Morel?" Lucien questioned calmly, barely lifting his head from his plate.
Elian shut his eyes and muttered an inaudible prayer.
"No, Your Grace," he replied, turning.
"Come here," Lucien commanded.
Elian obeyed, slowly walking over to Lucien.
"Yes?" He answered as he stood beside Lucien’s chair.
"Answer his question," Lucien said.
Elian furrowed his brows, "What question?" He asked, glancing at Rowan who was watching him keenly.
"Your crime. Why have you been termed a traitor?" Rowan asked, leaning against his chair.
Elian gritted his teeth, "I did nothing."
Rowan arched a brow, smirking, "Oh? Hear him, cousin? He says he’s been accused wrongly. What does that say about your reign?" He chuckled, picking up his glass of wine.
Lucien lifted his head, pinning Elian with a warning look before he faced Rowan.
"Not him... his father," Lucien clarified slowly.
"Tell me, young Morel—"
"Elian," Lucien cut Rowan off abruptly.
"Huh?" Rowan frowned, looking confused.
"His name is Elian," Lucien spoke calmly over his wineglass.
Elian almost scoffed beside Lucien. What was that about? He calls him young Morel just fine; why couldn’t someone else?
"Right. I did hear you call him that. Anyway, young Morel..." Rowan paused, smirking at Lucien.
Lucien’s hand paused midair, his jaw tensing as he glared at Rowan. He knew Rowan never went by the rules, but he wasn’t so sure he was going to let him be that way with Elian.
"What did your father do?" Rowan questioned, his tone serious as he studied Elian.
"He did nothing," Elian answered again.
Bam!
Lucien suddenly slammed his hand on the table, causing Elian to take a step back.
"Well, I guess he didn’t like that answer, Elian," Rowan said, unbothered as he kept eating his food.
"I only said the truth—"
"Enough!" Lucien sprang up, pulling Elian’s collar and dragging him closer. "You will not go around telling people your father was innocent. You are a traitor’s son and you are paying for his crime." Lucien seethed, glaring at Elian.
Elian had his head lowered. If he looked into Lucien’s eyes, he’d be tempted to carve them out of his face. This was exactly why he hated nobles. They treat you like trash but only see you when you’re of importance to them.
Lucien released Elian’s collar only to grab his chin, "Now, tell him what your father did." He whispered, pushing Elian’s face away.
Elian swallowed down his anger, his eyes twitching from too much restraint. He straightened, taking a deep breath.
"My father was—"
His stomach growled angrily, an instant flush staining his cheeks.
"Damn it, cousin. You don’t feed the young man?" Rowan reached for the bread and tore it himself with his hands, dropping it onto a plate with honey-glazed roasted chicken.
Rowan glanced once at Lucien before holding the plate out, "Here, you look like you haven’t eaten properly in days."
Elian shook his head, looking at Lucien for permission.
"Come on, don’t worry about your father’s crime. We’ll catch up on that later. Eat?" Rowan tried to make Elian feel at ease.
"Drop it on the floor. That’s where he deserves to eat," Lucien’s voice was laced with contained anger, his fingers gripping the fork too tightly.
Rowan shrugged and placed the food on the floor, a casual smirk playing on his lips.
"Eat," Rowan said and returned to his chair.
Elian stared at the food, wishing he could walk over it and show the Duke his middle finger. But he was starving. And the meal looked and smelled too good to ignore. The glazed chicken was making his mouth water and the soft bread almost had him drooling.
Swallowing his pride, he bent over and picked the plate of food up. He was about to take the fork when Lucien’s voice stopped him.
"Do not eat," Lucien said without looking at him.
Elian bit his lip, lifting his head to look at Lucien who was enjoying his meal.
"You shall eat when we’re done," Lucien said.
And so, Elian stood there, his plate of food in his hands as he watched the Duke and his cousin feast. His stomach rumbled from time to time, and by the time they finished eating, his cheeks were red as tomatoes from embarrassment.
"Come, cousin. I will show you to your chamber," Lucien stood, walking toward the door without glancing at Elian.
"Lucien," Rowan called.
Lucien refused to turn, already sensing Rowan’s inquisitive trouble from miles away.
"Follow me, Rowan. The maids must have your warm bath ready," Lucien said, pulling the door open.
Rowan nodded, "I will see you soon, young Morel," he said and followed Lucien out of the dining hall.
The moment the door shut, Elian hurried over to the window side and lowered himself on the floor, shoving the chicken into his mouth with his bare hands. He ate like he had just risen from death. His throat hurt from constant swallowing, but he did not care; he continued to chew and swallow, unable to put the deliciousness down.
For the first time in almost four months, he was having a real meal. Warm, tasty, delicious. He was about to put the last piece of bread into his mouth when the door opened.
He immediately placed it back on the plate and stood, head lowered.
"It’s you..." Rowena said.
Elian lifted his head, realizing it was just Rowena and not the devil.
"Your Highness," Elian nodded curtly, hiding his oil-greased hands behind him.
"Where is my love?" Rowena asked, glancing over at the dining table.
Elian shook his head, "I do not know." He answered, frowning slightly. Why was she asking him like he was the Duke’s shepherd?
"He dined with someone?" She asked, slowly walking toward the table, inspecting the chair Rowan had taken, "Who was it?" She faced him, eyes peering deep and calculating.
"I do not know, Your Highness," he replied, shifting uncomfortably.
He really did not know. Hearing Lucien and Rowan call themselves cousins wasn’t valid enough to claim he knew the man. So he wasn’t really lying. If the princess wanted to know, she should go ask ’her love’ herself.
Rowena chuckled, "Don’t be silly, Elian." She strode toward him, circling him like a snake sizing up its prey. "You know what I’m asking..." she murmured. "His guest... a man, or a woman?" She asked, voice soft, compelling.
Elian chewed the insides of his cheeks, hating to be used as a spy against anyone, even if it were Lucien.
"A man," he answered reluctantly.
"I see," Rowena nodded and turned, almost leaving. But she suddenly paused, her back to Elian.
"Why are you dining in here, Elian?" She slowly turned to look at him with those serpent-like eyes. "Why are you eating from the Duke’s plate?" Her voice slithered like a hiss.
