Chapter 23: 23 Duty or Desire
Lucien was gloomily standing beside Elian’s bed as Soren walked into the room, Ms. Beck following quietly with a wooden medical box in her hands.
Soren looked at Elian from head to toe, his grey eyes observing the way Elian was lying on his stomach.
"Thank you, Ms. Beck," Soren nodded and took the wooden medical box from her.
"Leave," Lucien said, not taking his eyes off Elian.
Ms. Beck nodded once and left the room. Soren quietly neared the bed, placing his medical box on the bedside drawer.
"What happened?" Soren asked, taking out a miniature bowl from his box and a bottle filled with a clear liquid.
Lucien frowned. "You’re the doctor. Make sure he stays alive," he stated calmly. Lucien looked composed, almost unbothered, but the way his thumbs rubbed against each other behind him told a different story. He wasn’t used to a quiet Elian. He wasn’t used to seeing those blue eyes shut.
Soren sighed, moving closer to Elian. "If you keep hurting him like this, he won’t survive long."
Lucien snapped his head to Soren. "Mind your place," he warned.
Soren nodded calmly. "I am." He faced Elian and picked a pair of scissors from his medical box.
"What are you doing?" Lucien asked, stepping forward.
Soren pointed at Elian. "You had him whipped, Your Grace. His clothes are eating into the wounds on his back... they need to come off," he replied professionally.
Lucien frowned. He wasn’t even bothered about the false accusation; something else was eating at him. "You mean... you want to get rid of his clothes?" he asked slowly, swallowing hard.
Soren nodded. "Yes. That is correct."
Lucien clenched his jaw. He was stuck. Asking Soren not to would seem very suspicious, staying and watching might make him very uncomfortable, but leaving was dangerous. He could not leave Elian completely at Soren’s mercy.
"May I proceed?" Soren asked quietly.
"Do what you have to do," Lucien said.
For the next two minutes, the snipping and snapping of Soren’s scissors filled the room. With Elian’s clothes finally discarded neatly on the floor, Soren carried over his miniature bowl and poured the transparent liquid into it.
"His wounds are excessive," Soren murmured, fetching a clean cloth from his box.
Lucien hadn’t lifted his eyes. For the first time, he was scared. Scared of what he might feel if he bestowed his eyes on Elian’s nakedness. But Soren’s comment made him look.
He froze. His eyes locked on the trailing, angry whip marks on Elian’s skin. He saw red. Now, he felt like he hadn’t punished Edgar and the guards enough. They deserved something more marking than what they did to Elian.
"Lucien?" Soren waved his hand in front of Lucien, calling back his attention.
Lucien raised his face, not bothering to hide his anger. "What, Soren?" he asked tightly.
"Your slave is—"
"Attendant," Lucien cut him off sharply.
Soren nodded. "Your attendant will be needing close supervision to make sure his wounds heal without scarring. I will be coming to—"
"No need." Lucien asked forwardly.
Soren sighed. "He cannot attend to himself, Lucien. Like you, I frown upon the Morel family for their treacherous act. But if you need him alive to attend to you, I ask that you let me monitor his day-to-day progress until he is stable," he explained, hoping the Duke would see reason with him.
However, the doctor did not know that their reasoning was quite different.
"What does he need to do, Soren?" Lucien asked again, calm and grounded.
Soren nodded. "He might die if you continue to be this cruel to him." He passed Lucien the bottle with the transparent liquid and took a small vial out of his box. "The transparent liquid is to be poured into a basin. Let him soak for five minutes... it aids healing." He said, pointing to the small vial, "This oil will soothe his inflammation and remove blemishes." He said and packed up his box.
"You can cover him with a very light material. I will examine him in a week. It’s not a request; it’s simply duty." Soren took his box and left the room.
Not standing there a second longer, Lucien walked over to a cloth basket sitting beside the wardrobe and pulled the lightest material he could reach, then walked back to Elian. Gently, he spread the cotton material out and covered Elian up. He finally let his eyes settle on Elian’s body. Most of his back was spared—but below his waist, the lashes had fallen harder, deeper.
He clenched his jaw and looked away. He needed to make Rowena understand one thing: this was his mansion, his territory, his people. He was in charge, and no one, absolutely no one, took matters into their hands without consulting him first.
He picked up the transparent liquid and the vial from Elian’s bed, staring at his face for a while. His messy hair had fallen over, covering half of his face.
"You’d scream at me..." he whispered, answering Elian’s earlier question.
Shaking his head, he backed away. Before turning away, he saw the book he had given Elian peeking out from under his pillow. Elian had kept it, waiting for an instruction on what to do with it. He thought of asking for it back but decided against it; he’ll leave it there until Elian was well and stable enough to read it.
Quietly, he left Elian’s room. He walked into his own chamber feeling emotionally exhausted.
He felt him before he saw him.
"What are you doing here, Rowan?" Lucien asked, pulling his gloves off and placing them neatly on the desk.
Rowan smirked from Lucien’s bed, crossing his legs. "I wanted to speak to you about something and discovered that your attendant is somehow situated right next to you and you have spent more than an hour in his room. What is going on, cousin?" Rowan questioned, half-worried and half-amused.
"Why did Finn let you through?" he asked, taking off his shirt and placing it on the arm of his chair.
Rowan chuckled. "The pretty guard you placed at your doorstep? I have my ways," he answered.
"Leave, I need to sleep—"
"Oh, please. You and I know you never sleep until the first strike of sunrise," Rowan stood, flipping Lucien’s pillow. "Did you finally rid yourself of that crazy book? Too bad; I wanted to read it to you... as my baby cousin—"
"Leave, Rowan," Lucien commanded.
Rowan sighed. "I am worried, cousin. You still wear that glove, fearing a myth would become true. You cling onto the past like your lifeline. You fail to appreciate the beautiful woman you’re about to be joined with, and for heaven’s sake, why are you keeping Elian in your chambers?" He breathed loudly, catching his breath as he stared at Lucien for answers.
Lucien’s eyes sharpened, sweeping over Rowan in disapproval. Slowly, he walked over to Rowan and stared right into his eyes. "I am the Duke... not you." He patted Rowan’s shoulder. "Now, leave." His voice brooked no room for argument.
Rowan saw that Lucien had lost every trace of a patient cousin and had gone full Duke on him. He knew when to pause, and that was now. He nodded. "I’ll see you at dawn, Lucien," he said and walked out of the chamber.
Alone, Lucien dragged his hand down his face, sighing loudly. Rowan always had a way of tapping into his deepest secrets without even trying. That was why he didn’t like having him around. Where others cowered, Rowan rose.
Shirtless, he slumped into his chair, staring at his bed like an enemy. There was no use climbing onto it; Rowan was right, he didn’t sleep until dawn. He shut his eyes and relaxed against the backrest, his fingers drumming the armrests.
What had happened today? If Elian had slumped in those milliseconds, what would he have done? Why were Rowan’s words from earlier getting to him? It wasn’t like he fancied the young man. No, he hated him. Elian was everything he despised: unruly, careless, disrespectful... brave, true to himself. Strong.
"Damn it," he snapped his eyes open, bouncing his legs up and down. What had gotten into him? Was this perhaps a Truth Seeker’s bewitching?
Angry, Lucien stood and paced the room, but even as he tried to steer his mind away from his attendant, the image of Elian’s vulnerable face as he asked whom he should scream for if Lucien was the one hurting him kept haunting his mind. It reached right into his chest and caught his heart in a firm grip.
"Fuck!" Lucien growled, kicking the chair and sending it flying onto the wall with a loud thud. He raked his hair with his fingers and stormed out of his room.
Maybe he should go to Rowena. A simple distraction would solve his problem. However, he found himself circling back to Elian’s door, his breathing hard and chest heaving. He wasn’t planning to go in, but Elian’s sudden moan broke his remaining resolve.
With a calming breath, he twisted the handle and walked back into the room.
