Chapter 22: 22 Who Do I Scream For?
"Stop!" he roared, standing there like karma on a mission.
"Your Grace?" Edgar gasped, the whip instantly falling from his hand and onto the floor.
The other guards stepped away from Elian, heads bowed in fear.
Without looking at any of them, Lucien strode over to Elian, who was groaning on the floor as he lay face flat.
"Get up," he ordered coldly.
Elian chuckled, lifting himself to kneel on the floor.
"Get up?" he questioned, lifting his face to Lucien.
Lucien’s jaw clenched the moment he saw Elian’s face.
Fingerprints ran across his cheeks, leaving red marks behind.
His lips were bruised, and the hair Ms. Beck had put in order was once again in ruins.
Not the sight he wanted.
"Just let them beat me to death. After all, that’s what you want—"
"Get up, Elian," Lucien repeated, calm, almost cold.
But if anyone watched closely, they would see the way his knuckles turned white as he restrained himself from lifting Elian’s stubborn self himself.
Elian chuckled again, shaking his head. "Yes, Your Grace," he muttered and crawled over to the wall, grunting as he pulled himself up.
He stood, staggering slightly but managing to steady himself.
He sniffled, pushing his messy hair out of his face.
"I’m up," Elian said, his voice cracked as he stared right through Lucien like he wasn’t there.
"Walk. Out," Lucien commanded.
With a shaky breath, Elian clenched his jaw and limped away from the dungeon.
Lucien finally turned to Edgar, his face a story of anger and darkness.
"Who ordered this?" he asked slowly.
Edgar shifted uncomfortably, his eyes cast down. "The Princess, Your Grace—" He was cut off by a harsh-sounding slap; his face flew to the side, blood sticking to the wall beside him.
He was in darkness for a few seconds before he braced his hand on the wall to steady himself.
Shock was evident on the guards’ faces as they stared at Edgar’s quickly reddening face.
"You take orders only from me," Lucien reminded him calmly, tugging gently at his glove.
Edgar fell to his knees, the other guards following.
"Forgive us, Your Grace. We only thought you knew about it—"
"How many?" Lucien cut Edgar off.
Edgar looked confused, looking from one guard to another for help.
"Sixty strokes, Your Grace," one of the guards immediately replied, voice shaky.
Lucien nodded. "I want to see the evidence of sixty lashes on each of you by sunrise for carrying out an order without my knowledge." With that, he turned and left.
The moment he left the dungeon, he was hurrying.
He couldn’t find Elian in the grand hall and was about to head out to search for him when he heard Finn’s voice from the hallway.
"You need to see the doctor!" Finn almost shouted.
Immediately, he turned on his heel and went toward them.
He found Elian pressing his forehead against the wall beside Finn, his shoulders slouched.
"I’m really fine, Finn. I’ve been treated worse—"
"Open the door," Lucien murmured.
"Your Grace," Finn greeted and unlocked the door, stepping aside.
"Go..." Lucien trailed off as Elian walked through the door without waiting for his command.
"Goodnight," Finn murmured as Lucien followed Elian in.
He quickly closed the door, refusing to look further, for if he did... he might sense something he wasn’t supposed to know of.
Behind the door, Elian was hurrying up the stairs, refusing to let Lucien get to him.
He gritted his teeth to keep his pain at bay; not a single sound came out of him.
Finally, he emerged in the Duke’s chambers and quickly limped toward his door.
But before he could slam it shut, Lucien’s hand wedged it, stopping him.
"Out of the door, Elian—"
"Leave me... please?" Elian begged, his voice slowly breaking.
Lucien balled his fists and gently pushed at the door.
"You either leave the door, or get shoved away," Lucien threatened.
A tear rolled down Elian’s cheek.
Slowly, he stepped away from the door.
What was the use of refusing him entry?
It was Lucien’s chambers... he had no right to resist him.
Lucien stepped through the door and caught Elian’s wrist as he tried to walk away.
"Enough moving," Lucien said firmly.
Elian swallowed down his sobs, the humiliation he’d faced the whole day finally catching up to him.
And it was all because of Lucien.
He felt Lucien move closer, towering over him as he tried to peer at his lowered face.
He didn’t look up, intending to hide his tears and bruises away from Lucien.
But it wasn’t for long.
Lucien’s hand moved upward.
He hooked a finger under Elian’s chin, slowly lifting his face.
Wet blue eyes met dark green ones.
A soft sigh left Lucien’s lips before his jaw tightened.
The marks on Elian’s face looked more angry now, like he was almost scalded by hot water.
"Who?" Lucien found himself asking in a low voice.
Elian frowned, breathing heavily. "Does it matter?" he whispered angrily.
Lucien cupped Elian’s chin, forcing his face closer. "Who did this to your face, Elian? I hate asking twice," he murmured.
"Your Princess. What? She didn’t do it to your liking?" Elian spat, glaring at Lucien.
Lucien shut his eyes, bringing his other hand to cup Elian’s face with both hands.
Eyes still closed, he caressed Elian’s face with such tenderness, like he was touching a baby, his breathing turning shallow.
"Step back, Your Grace," Elian muttered, moving his face out of Lucien’s hold.
Lucien suddenly felt empty as Elian stepped away from him.
"She misunderstood," Lucien said, fists balling behind him.
Elian limped toward his bed and knelt beside it, resting his elbows on top of the bed.
"You don’t need to make excuses for her cruelty... it’s a royalty thing," Elian scoffed, wincing as the pain from behind shot up his spine.
"I do not make excuses," Lucien spoke behind Elian, taking in the stains on his chest.
"She simply did not know I was aware," he murmured, leaning down and almost, almost touching Elian’s shoulder.
He took a step back, locking his eyes on the floor.
"Did they see it? The mark?" Lucien questioned.
He didn’t know if anyone would recognise the mark or not, but he just couldn’t risk it being seen.
Elian chuckled dryly, dragging himself up.
He could barely move without feeling like his skin was about to tear, but he put up a strong act, refusing to show Lucien just how in pain he was.
"Don’t worry, Duke..." He dragged his feet over to his wardrobe. "Your secret is safe with me. Can you go now?" he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.
"You will not tell me when to leave or not—"
"Please... can you just go? I’m not running away. You have my mother, remember? I’d rather die than leave her behind," Elian muttered, his thumb rubbing the middle button as he stared at the wardrobe.
Lucien stared at the door but never moved toward it.
His footsteps echoed softly until they stopped behind Elian.
"You like speaking of death," he pointed out calmly.
"You did tell me that I would beg for death," he turned his head to the side to glance at Lucien.
"Do not be stubborn with me, Elian," Lucien moved closer, covering his gloved hand over Elian’s own on his button.
Elian glanced down at their hands and frowned.
Just like when Lucien cupped his face at the door, his heart racketted like it wanted to explode, his pain momentarily forgotten and replaced with those overwhelming tingling sensations.
"Step back, Your—"
"You will scream whenever someone tries to hurt you. Do you understand?" This time, Lucien’s voice sounded strained as he stared at the marks on Elian’s face.
Elian wanted to laugh but suddenly shut his eyes, flinching in pain.
"Are you..." Lucien cut himself off, but never released Elian’s hand.
He watched as Elian gritted his teeth, fighting his pain in silence and breathing harshly.
That overwhelming rage returned.
He didn’t know why.
Perhaps he didn’t like the fact that someone else hurt Elian.
Elian was his to punish... no one else’s.
And that was why he was going to make every single person who dared go against his rule suffer.
Elian’s muffled grunt dragged him back to the present, and he focused to find Elian gazing up at him.
"Are you—"
"Scream when someone else is hurting me?" Elian’s voice was low, tired. "Then, if it’s you... who do I scream for?" he asked very slowly, holding Lucien’s green gaze.
Lucien murmured something inaudible and leaned in, faces close enough to feel each other’s breath.
"Elian..." he called, gulping quietly as his hand found Elian’s cheek, tracing a mark up to his ear.
"W-what... stop touching me," Elian shut his eyes, the headache he’d been trying to ignore finally setting in.
His eyes were shut tightly, head banging loudly.
Lucien’s eyes were almost pitch black with a strange hunger he didn’t even know he portrayed.
He could feel his face leaning closer and couldn’t find it in himself to stop.
He wondered exactly what would happen if he covered that thin space between their faces.
Would Rowan be right?
There was only one way to find out.
He moved.
Elian slumped against him.
Lucien froze, eyes snapping wide in realisation.
"Elian, Elian, fucking answer me, Elian!" he roared, holding Elian close to himself.
Panic set in as he held the unmoving young man in his arms.
A deep, gnawing panic he’d never felt before.
