Elian allowed Rowan to lead him toward the weeping willow tree. The willow branches swayed like curtains around the old wooden benches, shielding the space from the rest of the orchard.

​Between the benches sat a round wooden table draped with a silky red cloth, and atop it rested mouth-watering fruits, berries, and warm, inviting dishes.

​But none of those held Elian’s attention for longer than a moment.

​On one of the benches sat Lucien, his spine straight and his arm draped around Rowena’s waist like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. His face was completely turned toward her, listening intently to something she was sweetly speaking about.

​He was completely ignoring Elian, who had just arrived.

​"Morning, cousin," Rowan, unaware of the tension slowly brewing between the Duke and his prisoner, casually greeted, leading Elian to sit on the opposite bench.

​"You’re late," Lucien stated, looking away from Rowena to glance at Rowan.

​Not once did his eyes stray to Elian.

​"I am not late. Are we, Elian?" Rowan asked Elian, who was sitting stiffly like a tree, his eyes cast to the ground.

​"Um..." he murmured, unsure of what to say.

​It wasn’t as if his opinion mattered anyway.

​Lucien slowly looked away from Rowan, refusing to engage in a meaningless conversation.

​He leaned forward and picked up a knife and a pomegranate, his eyes focused calmly on his duty.

​Lucien lazily split open the pomegranate with the knife, crimson juice staining his gloved fingers as he offered Rowena the first seed.

​"Thank you, my love," Rowena smiled, kissing Lucien’s cheek.

​Lucien gave her a small smile, placing the pomegranate back on the tray, and picked an apple for himself.

​He looked calm, unbothered as he peeled his apple, but lord! Was he aware of Elian on the other side of the table?

​Hell yes!

​He’d been aware of him the moment he stepped through the dwarf door. He’d been aware of Elian as the reluctant footsteps got closer and closer, and he became hyperaware the moment he appeared before him—so aware that his lips started to burn and tingle as if he were still kissing him against the wall.

​But he was a man of control and discipline. Last night was a horrible mistake.

​A Duke with a traitor? The kingdom would break in half.

​A Duke with a man?! People might plot his death.

​He couldn’t let whatever this was get in his way. He had to stay focused on his goal.

​He might be a Duke, but he was still a man, and a man had needs.

​Staying for a long time without spilling his seed must have gotten to him last night, and when he saw Elian looking at him like that... he thought it was the right time to ease himself of that stress.

​A man... not perfect.

​The good thing was that he was able to stop himself before an atrocity happened.

​"No?"

​Lucien paused his spiral when he heard Rowan’s gentle voice.

​"I think I can peel an apple myself, Lord Rowan—"

​"Rowan," Rowan corrected, plucking the apple from Elian’s hand and peeling it anyway. "I told you, I’m not your lord... I’m your friend, so save the honorifics," he murmured, giving Elian a warm smile.

​Lucien’s fingers tightened around the knife in his hand, his jaw tightening as he watched Elian smile and nod at Rowan.

​So he could smile?

​So he could nod in obedience and not bite back?

​Clink!

​The sound of the knife being dropped forcefully onto the tray caught everyone off guard. Lucien held his half-peeled apple, his green eyes darkening in restrained anger.

​"Honey, are you okay?" Rowena asked softly, placing a gentle hand near Lucien’s thigh.

​Lucien smiled, placing his hand over hers. "I’m fine. It fell from my hand," he replied smoothly, picking the knife back up.

​On the other side, Rowan ignored Lucien completely, handing Elian the neatly peeled apple.

​"Eat that, and that sweet bunch right there," Rowan reached for a bunch of freshly picked berries and dropped them onto Elian’s plate.

​"Thank you," Elian murmured, wishing he could just take his food and go.

​His heart was stinging from the negligence from Lucien, and it even hurt deeper than being walked out of his chamber.

​Now, he felt completely invisible.

​Rowena suddenly cleared her throat, her eyes slowly marking Elian.

​"Rowan... why have you brought him here?" she asked calmly, but her tone was filled with condescending grit.

​"You mean Elian?" Rowan arched his brow, glancing at Elian.

​Elian suddenly found it hard to swallow the fruit in his mouth; it suddenly felt like he was forcing down a hard lump as his throat tightened.

​Why did they suddenly decide to have him as mid-breakfast conversation?

​"Yes, Elian the traitor. Why have you brought him here? Do you want him to poison the Duke’s food like his father tried to do?" Rowena asked, her slim fingers plucking a berry and placing it between her lips.

​Elian’s fingers twitched, his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to bark at Rowena and tell her that his father was innocent. But who was he to raise his voice at royalty?

​It would be a straight ticket back to the dungeons.

​From beneath his lashes, he could see Lucien calmly eating his peeled apple, his face uninterested in the matter.

​Was he expecting Lucien to defend him?

​He was really starting to get delusional.

​Rowan chuckled. "I’m glad you said ’his father’, princess. Not him," he said, clearing his throat.

​"The sins of a parent are heritable," Rowena stated.

​"Only when it comes to the poor," Rowan smirked, watching Rowena’s face twist in an ugly manner.

​"That’s not true," Rowena murmured.

​"Oh?" Rowan smiled. "Say you bear a child for my cousin, and let’s say my cousin kills an innocent child in his rage—"

​"He would never!" Rowena snapped, hooking her arm around Lucien’s.

​Lucien had stopped chewing, his eyes dark and warning as they fixed on Rowan.

​But Rowan was eager to make his point.

​"Hypothetically speaking, princess... hypothetically," Rowan said. "So, my cousin kills this child, and of course, your father, the king, declares him a sinner and punishes him by hanging. Are you saying that your child will now also be labeled a sinner for the actions of his father?" he questioned calmly, his hand reaching to the side to rest on Elian’s bouncing knee.

​Rowena opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t form a word. She just clung to Lucien, glaring at Elian.

​"No words? How about this then? Your father commits an unforgivable act; does that make you responsible for his—"

​"Enough!" Lucien roared, his gaze hardening on Rowan. "Mind your words, cousin," he warned darkly.

​Rowan shrugged slowly. "Hypothetically," he murmured.

​Elian shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, his breakfast threatening to churn up his throat as his stomach twisted anxiously. He was uncomfortable and needed to leave that place as soon as possible.

​The whole conversation was making him sick.

​"To answer your question, princess, I brought Elian Morel here because he is my friend, and he’s human, too. Everyone knows I don’t follow the rules—at least, rules that don’t make any sense—"

​"Hurk!"

​Elian suddenly gagged, his stomach twisting violently before he lurched away from the table and threw up onto the ground.

​Lucien was about to stand, but Rowan was already rushing over to Elian with a cup of water.

​Lucien’s chest pulled tight as he watched Elian throwing up everything he’d just eaten. A strong discomfort settled right in his chest and stomach, his body starting to itch as he still felt Rowena’s arm around his.

​It suddenly felt so wrong to be sitting at that moment—sitting and doing nothing while Rowan’s hand gently rubbed Elian’s back, whispering gentle words into his ear.

​He watched Rowan feed Elian water to rinse his mouth before carefully helping him to his feet by wrapping a possessive arm around Elian’s waist.

​"What a disgusting sight," Rowena pulled an irritated face, nuzzling her cheek against Lucien’s arm.

​Lucien turned rigid, realizing he disliked what Rowena had just said.

​Someone had just vomited sickly in front of them and all she could say was "disgusting"?

​"I’ll take him to Soren now. Apologies for disrupting your breakfast," Rowan said, nodding at his cousin and the princess.

​"I apologize, princess... Your Grace," Elian’s hoarse voice murmured.

​He finally addressed Lucien, but it was just as good as nothing because he never looked at Lucien; his face was cast down the whole time, afraid of seeing the disgust he heard from Rowena’s voice in Lucien’s eyes.

​"Come on," Rowan whispered, leading Elian away from the willow tree.

​Behind them, Lucien stared at their retreating figures, a heavy weight pulling at his chest.

​What was this feeling?

​Would it be weird if he left Rowena sitting alone and demanded to take Elian from Rowan?

​Would it paint a certain picture?

​Would it be so bad?

​"My love," Rowena called, standing from the bench. "I do not think I can eat anymore. The traitor’s son has ruined our breakfast. I think I need to lie—"

​"Then allow me to take you away," Lucien softly interrupted, placing his gloved hand at the small of her back.

​"Oh," Rowena smiled, allowing Lucien to lead her toward the dwarf door.

​She was happy he had offered to lead her to her chambers. He never did that, always so disciplined about her virtue; perhaps she had dressed so beautifully this morning that he could no longer resist her.

​They walked onto the veranda just as Rowan was leading Elian into Soren’s infirmary.

​"You, escort the princess to her chambers immediately," Lucien spoke to the guards at the door, his eyes never leaving the infirmary door.

​What was wrong with him? he pondered.

​"My love?" Rowena called as Lucien stepped away from her.

​Lucien sighed softly, managing a polite smile. "The sun is out, my princess. It is best you rest inside; a tan will not look good on your beautiful skin. Please," he took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it, "rest inside, my princess," he murmured.

​Rowena blushed, feeling extremely adored by Lucien’s thoughtfulness.

​"If you say so, my king," she kissed his lips and walked into the mansion, her cheeks flushing.

​Without waiting a second more, Lucien spun around and headed toward the infirmary.

​He didn’t care.

​He just wanted to make sure his truth seeker wasn’t dying... yet.