Chapter 114:
Desperation
After days of bed rest and medicines, Alywin's health had finally cleared to the point of being stable, bringing with him a foreboding sense of dread as he stared out the window, knowing what would happen within the next coming days. Resting in bed only delayed his next moves, making him feel as though he were hiding from destiny, keeping her cruel magic at bay as he dwelled under the cover of his canopy, hiding like a weakened animal.
The place he had grown up in, while devoid of any feelings of warmth, could no longer be considered safe to Alywin. It made him feel weak, desperate to find the safety he had quickly lost. There would never be that place, however. Malcolm had made sure of it.
Theo's embrace would never protect him again.
He sucked in a breath, keeping his negative thoughts at bay as he thought of a way to return to the palace, a way to return him to Malcolm's side, allowing him an ear inside the royal affairs. Clarence had been gone for days, but the search never ended for him. Rather, it became almost frantic, but only Alywin knew how impatient Malcolm was becoming, knowing his chance at the throne could still be threatened by the cousin that had been born out of wedlock. Hearing those negative words regarding Clarence, it took all Alywin had to maintain his composure.
If only Theo were here. Tears began to pool in Alywin's eyes again as he found himself sitting at his writing table in his bedroom, his robe loosely draped around his body, exposing his pale, naked white shoulder to the cool air in the room as he dipped his quill into the jar of wet black ink, his eyes narrowed as he blinked away the freshly-forming tears, his hand moving faster than it had before.
The more he wrote, the more words became legible, until soon, a full letter had been completed and rested in front of the young marquis, his eyes scanning the page blurrily as he used his free hand to wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, his eyes burning.
"Dear Malcolm,
I hope this letter finds you well.
Alywin paused, finding it difficult to continue as he wiped away more tears, his eyes narrowing to the point of blurriness as he finally let out a large sigh, wiping his tears one final time before he completed the letter in one fell swoop, keeping the content short and concise as he wrote an additional paragraph, ending with a short message.
My health has improved enough that my father will permit my travel back to the capital. I am hoping to return to the palace upon my arrival. Much time has passed between us, and I would like to share more of it together without my father's interruption..
My messenger will be awaiting your response.
With affection,
Alywin"
Alywin's pen paused on the signature line, his disgust nearly eating away at him as he wrote "affection" with his delicate, sweeping cursive font.
After finishing the letter to Malcolm, Alywin passed it off to a servant he did not recognize, most likely a spy sent by Malcolm himself to keep an eye on him while he was stowed away in his family's home. His father had been closely watching him since his fainting incident, having only faint ideas of Malcolm's intentions towards his son.
Alywin was still a pawn in his father's hands. It was time to use his own power to carve his own path forward, even if it was not the path he desired.
Less than three days had passed before a guest had arrived at the palace, expressing the intention to take Alywin back to the Yursinean palace. Duke Cyneric had heard of the guest's sudden arrival and approached his son with heavy footsteps, his eyes narrowed as his greying hair darkened another degree, his mind full of thoughts.
"Duke Godfreed has sent a carriage to escort you back to the palace." He stated, staring at Alywin with a heavy gaze, questioning him. "I had heard you sent a letter to the duke."
Alywin paused, his face still pale from his previous health scare. "Yes, father." Alywin stopped again before he said, "I requested to return to the palace to assist Duke Godfreed. There is only a matter of time before he takes the throne, and I would like to strengthen my position as a royal advisor."
"With this, our family can no longer stay neutral in this fight." Duke Cyneric spoke, his eyes on Alywin. "At least we have ears in the palace. We cannot allow another family to step over us. Cynerics have always been one of the closest advisors to the Yursinean King. We cannot lose our standing now."
"Of course, father." Alywin felt a bitter taste enter his mouth, feeling ill at his father's words.
"Good. Once you arrive at the palace, report back to me immediately. I want to know Duke Godfreed's every move. You know what to do, Alywin" He ended, leaving the room with a wave of his hand, his position in the Yursinean political structure outweighing the position of his son.
A carriage was quick to arrive at the Cyneric residence, trailing up the decorative stone path to the duke's mansion like a hearse, preparing to bring Alywin to the last place he would know before his death if Malcolm would allow it.
With only two suitcases with his most pressing possessions, having been packed in advance by himself. The rest of his items were directed to be sent to the palace later, allowing Malcolm's coach to place his items in the back of the carriage as Alywin looked at the shadowed windows of the carriage, the interior void of anyone but the warm sunlight of the spring afternoon.
The air around him was beginning to warm, but Alywin felt his entire body freeze. His fingers were stiff as he approached the newly-opened door to the carriage, his eyes fixed on the velvet seats inside, the curtains pulled aside in a similar fashion, much like they had been before when Clarence had summoned him to the palace after Alywin would visit home.
With a swift click, the door to the carriage closed shut behind his figure, nearly startling Alywin out of his seat, his hands knotted in his lap in a messy fashion as he stared out the window, the hairs on the back of his neck standing tall, his body encased in the feeling of dread.
A tear rolled down his cheek as he thought of Theo's death that day on the balcony, his figure disappearing from view as Malcolm pushed the other man, knowing full well what Theo had meant to him.
"I'll kill anyone that gets between us. I promise." Malcolm had said those years ago, but as a young teen, Alywin never took Malcolm's words to heart, feeling as though the relationship between the two was shallow at best. It was filled with only trailing affection and some physical attraction, nothing more. Now, he wished he could eat those words and end the relationship between them before it ever came to that point.
Carefully, Alywin wiped the corner of his eyes with his handkerchief, hoping to hide the tears he had just cried, however he knew the duke, knowing the cruel man that had now taken his life, the one person that he had grown to trust with a wave of his hand.
He would notice his tears, his dread, and his apprehension, but Alywin could only pull on the deepest strings in his heart and placate Malcolm, toy with his heart again and again until he could kill the man with his own two hands, avenging the person he had cared so dearly for.
Shadows of the forest encased the forest, allowing Alywin a moment of privacy as he reached into his pocket, procuring a small metal jar of pale pressed powder to cover the red rims of his eyes. Carefully, he lifted the compact and stared at his face as he lifted the small cushion inside and began to gently pat the warm red rims under his eyes.
With two thin layers, he was able to hide the swelling, but as he stared into the small compact mirror, he could see the mole under his left eye, and the exhaustion hidden in his face, now veiled from view with powder that made him feel utterly ridiculous, like a clown.
Malcolm had always adored those eyes of his after all.
…
Time had continued to pass without word from Victoria, and Cordelia could only pass the days waiting and waiting anxiously, her gaze falling on the window each passing day as she completed tasks designated to her by Countess Zavior, who made the fallen duchess work until she was able to return home to her proper family.
Sitting within a decorated sitting room hidden deep in the inn was Cordelia, her hair tied behind her head in a simple fashion, her dress equally as simple, making her feel strangely plainer than before, but she paid no mind to her clothes as she stared out the window. Keeva was sitting by her side with a tray of snacks between them, the pair resting in silence as he held a book in his hands, his gaze moving to Cordelia every now and then as if to check on her. The embroidery was still half-finished in Cordelia's hands, the item most likely a simple handkerchief made to pass the time.
"I made these cookies fresh this morning. You should try them." He probed, picking up one of the simple, assorted cookies as he popped it into his mouth, smiling gently.
Cordelia had no interest in the food in front of her, much like she had lost her appetite the past few days, causing her to lose weight. While her figure was thin before, she was noticeably thinner now, her body barely carrying enough weight to cover her frame. "I'm not hungry."
Fighting the urge to sigh, Keeva could only say, "Your companion wouldn't have wanted to see you like this."
Camille sat in the armchair, a cookie held between her fingers as she stared between Keeva and Cordelia, her expression pensive. She said nothing to Cordelia, knowing her wounds would only heal with time.
Cordelia fell silent, bringing with it an awkward atmosphere to the room.
Entering the room, the physician's voice broke the silence brought by Cordelia. "Lady Zavior, the patient has woken up!" The private physician spoke aloud, his face full of surprise.
"What, now?" Camille responded, buttoning the front of her jacket as she stood swiftly, her hair falling behind her back in a natural fashion, her gaze fixed forward, preparing to see the healing man. "Keeva, Cordelia, you two stay here. I don't want to startle him right after he's woken up."
Cordelia stood up, her fists clenched, "But what if-" What if he knows something about Victoria?
Before Cordelia could refute Camille's words, the noblewoman had left in haste, leaving Cordelia to stand alone, her anger palpable. She stared towards the door, her body turned towards the exit, but Keeva stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, stopping her with enough force to make her stand still. "I think it would be best to listen to Lady Camille." His voice was firm, allowing no room for argument.
On the other side of the inn, Camille walked towards an open door. Inside the small room was a man, his body propped up with the soft pillow behind his back, his forehead wrapped in bandages that had slowly dyed red from the opening wounds, his face contorted in pain. As his dark eyes looked up, he met gazes with Camille, who stood to the side of the bed next to the attending physician, who had prepared his medical supplies to continue to treat the young man.
"Who are you? Where is this?" Having not spoken in some time, his voice was hoarse and dry, nearly incoherent. His eyes darted around the room
"I am Countess Camille Zavior of the Highland District." Camille stood next to the bed, her face grim, "You're at an inn owned by my family. What is your name?"
Holding his head, Theo could only respond. "Theo." His voice was weak.
Camille crossed her arms, "No last name, then. Are you elven? Only elves refuse a surname."
Looking at the woman standing next to the bed, Theo fell silent, his eyes hazy, as if he were still half-awake. His words were clear, and he was able to answer Camille in a faint voice. "No, I'm not."
Camille laughed, "There's no use lying to me. My fiancée is a mountain elf from the Highland mountain range. You may not be entirely elven, but I can see similar features between the two of you." There was a pause before Camille continued to speak, "Nevermind that. What happened to you? You were nearly dead when we found you."
Theo stared at Camille, his eyes dark with thought before he responded, "I was pushed from a balcony." He said with a frown, hissing with pain.
Camille nodded, tapping the tip of her heeled boot twice before she said in an assured tone, "You were pushed by Duke Godfreed, right?" She laughed, "Or should I call him Malcolm Breslin?"
Theo's eyes narrowed at the mention of his name, bringing with it a cool energy. "How do you know that?"
"Right now an associate of mine is sending two elves here. Two elves from the palace," She slowed her words as she stared at Theo, her gaze piercing, "Something I'm sure you're familiar with."
She knows. Theo clutched the blanket, the taste of blood rising to his mouth.
"Don't try to play coy with me. It doesn't take much to find out who you are, Theo." Her words were cold and pointed, making Theo's guard raise an additional degree in front of the countess. "If you cooperate with me, I'll tell you what Malcolm has been doing in your absence. Is that agreeable?" She raised her brow, her aura full of intimidation.
"Fine. I'll work with you for now, Countess Zavior." Theo's head was full of worries towards Alywin, but he could not express them yet. He was too weak to save him. Now, all he could do was plot against Malcolm. While he did not trust Countess Camille, she had made efforts to save him, even aware of his weak elven heritage.
Camille smiled, her expression almost warm. "Rest for now. I'll update you more as you heal." Stepping towards the door, the countess stopped abruptly before she looked over her shoulder and said, "I expect more information from you in exchange."
Theo only stared towards her wordlessly, agreeing without any movement as the countess stepped through the door frame, allowing the doctor to begin his thorough examination on the severely-injured Theo without interruption.
…
To the side of the chicken coop, Jasmine and Josephine spoke to Maeir in quiet tones. They quickly began discussing what had led them out into the elven path late at night, spurring the chase with the guards.
"I was looking for any traces from the elves, and then we ran into the three of you. Surprisingly, you had Clarence with you. Didn't expect that." Jasmine chuckled to herself, dropping the title for Clarence's name without a single thought. "But I couldn't risk losing my clients, so we let you follow us."
Maeir frowned, "Is that why you saved us?"
Josephine shook her head. "We would never turn down anyone in need, elf or not." She turned towards Jasmine as she said, "My niece saves elves and takes them out of the kingdom."
Hearing Josephine's words, Jasmine clarified, "Unlike those elven hunters, I'm an elven smuggler." Jasmine paused before she shook her head and added, "Well, they say protector, but I'm paid good money by my boss to make sure elves like you make it safely to your next destination, wherever that may be." She threw the last handful of corn in her palm towards the chickens, who had begun to swarm where the corn kernels fell. "Hey, Tubby! Leave some corn for the rest of them!" A fat rooster flew into the air, spooking a group of hens as he landed heavily, sweeping up the corn kernels on the ground with his beak. "Fat bastard." Jasmine snorted, sweeping the corn on the ground towards the hens with her feet.
Maeir was not unfamiliar with elven smugglers. They had helped her leave the country with Cirdan and Aurelia while they were still children. "I'm aware of what you are. I escaped the country before with my other two children." Her words trailed off as she added, "They're safe in the Faelfier Kingdom now."
"Really?" Jasmine's eyebrows rose. "Wait, what are your names?" Her voice dropped a degree, as if she were thinking hard about something.
Maeir spoke first, "Why are you asking? Who is your employer looking for?" Her tone was full of urgency.
"I'm looking for two elves name Maeir and Silas." Jasmine said, staring at the changing expressions on the group's face with a pensive glance. "My employer's orders are to take them to safety in the Highland district to her safe house for safekeeping."
Maeir's expression fell cold. "What is the name of your employer?"
"It's a Yursinean noble, that's all you need to know." Jasmine laughed, crossing her arms in a relaxed, self-assured posture as she said, "While we're at it, I'm assuming Eva sent you, and if that's right, that means you're the ones I'm supposed to escort."
Having lived in an unsafe environment for much of her life, Maeir did not provide many details, but what she did disclose was enough for Jasmine to understand. Her employer had heard their specific information from Eva directly, making it so their arrival would be seamless as possible. "If that's the case, then when will we be leaving?" Nothing had made Maeir too wary of Jasmine yet, knowing Eva's name specifically. Only those involved with the elves would mention her name in such a manner.
"It would be best to leave at dawn, just as the sun is rising." Jasmine wiped her hands on the apron on the front of her dress. "I have extra transformation pendants for you both to use too." She pursed her lip as she added, "Transforming that prince might be a little difficult though…"
"No need." Maeir frowned, "He's not with us. Just a leech." Josephine and Jasmine fell silent, feeling as though the relationship between the three was not as simple as it seems.
After shooing away the scattered chickens, looking for their next meal around Maeir and Jasmine, the three walked back inside, their shoes stained with dirt from the outside. As they came in, they entered quietly, the sky still dark outside.
"Aunt Josephine and I already slept since we were expecting you guys. We don't need to rest for now." Jasmine added, suggesting Maeir should rest before their journey.
"Maeir, you should rest. Jasmine can make up a second bed for you to rest." Josephine said with some concern, her eyes moving towards a large pile of hay that had accumulated in the kitchen area of the small cottage. "Jasmine, get a quilt for her, please." She was more direct, using her age to persuade Maeir.
"I'm going to check on Silas. I'll be back in a moment." Maeir responded with a nod, appreciating Josephine's concern as she quietly walked towards the closed, thin wooden door to the room, her eyes falling on the handle as she quietly pushed open the door.
Stepping inside the small, dark room, Maeir was able to make out the two figures on the bed, but as she approached, her figure froze, staring at the young man who wordlessly stared back up at her, his eyes wide like a deer in a hunter's sights.
Silence fell between the two, Maeir's eyes narrowing dangerously as the mana in the air circled around her, condensing like shards of ice in the air.
…
After a long day of traveling and excitement, Silas had quickly fallen asleep, leaving Clarence to lay on his back, only a foot away from Silas. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, his face warm as he stared at the elf beside him, admiring the gentle features of the man he had once previously despised with all his being.
When did these feelings start to change? Clarence thought in a daze, his eyes trailing down the side of Silas's face, as if they were his calloused fingers, admiring each and every curve of Silas's face. Even in the palace, he had never seen Silas sleep in such a relaxed manner, if at all. Whenever he would enter the dungeon, Silas was often conscious, glaring at him with hatred.
Now, he could admire the man next to him greedily without worry, knowing that hateful glare would no longer be directed at him again.
As Clarence laid on his back, his arms at his side, he heard a rustling sound from the side, causing him to turn to the side, his head resting against the soft mattress below him. As he looked forward, his face was only inches away from Silas's, their noses nearly touching from how close they had become.
"Ah!" Clarence let out a startled yelp, moving back suddenly, smacking his head hard against the wall behind him. Pain radiated through the back of his scalp, and he held the back of his head, his eyes watering.
As if hearing Clarence's pain, Silas murmured in his sleep, his lips parting gently as he stared forward, his eyes still fluttered shut as his hands slowly moved from his side. Gently, his hands slowly moved towards Clarence, who had lowered his hands in shock, his eyes fixed on Silas, who had begun to move in his sleep.
"Silas?" He whispered, feeling the other man's hands rest on top of the quilt near his arm. Under the blanket, the pair was only inches apart, Silas's knee softly brushing up against Clarence's right leg. Feeling the rough texture of the pants rubbing against his own, Clarence froze, the pain in the back of his head throbbing with it. "Are you awake?" He whispered.
There was no response from Silas other than a quiet murmur. As Clarence waited for a response from the sleeping elf, there was more movement from the side, and soon, a pair of arms had wrapped themselves around Clarence, trapping him in a tight embrace. In his shock, he felt a leg rest on his own, trapping him in a corpse-like pose as he fell still as a stick, staring at the man next to him with a fierce red flush burning his cheeks.
Other than the sound of Silas's even breaths, there was no other sound. Closing his eyes, Clarence could feel his chest beating wildly in his chest, threatening to fly out of his body. He clenched his fists at his side
"Silas!" Clarence whispered aloud, his shoulders stiff as he felt a head of soft hair rest against the side of his chest, the strands of white-blonde hair gently resting on his bare chest where his shirt had been slightly parted, bringing the heat to the middle of his chest that made his skin flush even hotter. The tips of his fingers itched, and he fought the urge to stroke the soft hairs atop the other man's head.
Looking down at Silas, he could see his thinned cheeks had gained some color, retaining a flush pink softness like a peach. His eyes were like almonds, smooth and small, but flattering to his handsome face. His thin brows rested, and his lips were parted as small, warm breaths trailed from his lips, warming the air around Clarence with the scent of dew and herbs. Smelling that scent, Clarence wanted to bring the man closer, to smell that scent even-
No, stop thinking like that. Clarence sucked in a cool breath, attempting to avoid a possibly embarrassing situation. He felt if Silas were to wake up now, he could only die as he was now.
Unable to stop himself, Clarence lifted his right hand softly, slowly moving it away from his side and towards Silas with caution. For a moment, his hand hovered, as if contemplating his movements, before he finally lowered his hand and rested it atop Silas's head with an awkward, gentle pat. Silas murmured again, this time with some annoyance as he gently moved his head, as if urging the hand to pat him.
Clarence was all but happy to oblige, his fingertips trembling as his fingers brushed against the man's hair, bringing with it a sweet taste of finding love for the first time. While Clarence's movements were awkward and slow, they were full of innocence and sincerity, as if he were trying to show affection properly for the first time.
Once he felt more comfortable with his movements, Clarence fell into a rhythm as he stroked Silas's head. A lovely smile rested on Clarence's lips, his eyes curved like gentle crescents, his face holding a softness that he had almost lost after nearly losing his life repeatedly. The fierceness in his gaze was gone, and only a tender feeling of sweetness permeated in the air between the two men.
Feeling the hand brushing against the side of his face, Silas nuzzled his head towards the soft palm of Clarence's hand, his lips brushing against the base of his wrist in a relaxed fashion, as if he were kissing it. His long eyelashes brushed against Clarence's fingers, but the ticklish sensation only urged Clarence to keep stroking the other man's head, feeling a sense of contentment fall between them.
If only he were this gentle towards me while he was awake. Clarence thought, unknowingly falling deeper and deeper into his dwelling feelings.
Just as Clarence's fingertips brushed against the crown of Silas's head, attempting to stroke the soft hair again, there was an abrupt sound by the door, and Maeir's eyes were red, fierce as a mountain lion. Afraid of waking her sleeping son, she stared at Clarence with a gaze marking her prey. With her eyes on his frozen figure, he could only fall still, a batch of cold sweat lining his brow.
…
Hunny is back and was able to catch up on past chapters. This one is only edited by me, so I apologize for any jankiness. This was a hard chapter, a lot of moving parts, but I wanted to give us a bit of a refresher on who is where, as it has been a while :D Small note on last chapter's extra... True ending would be Silas killing Clare as soon as he woke up >y< For the novel itself, however, the romance will be sweet, affectionate, and considerate. Silas and Clare still have differences to work through, but Clare.... he's a teen and has conflicting feelings ;;
Thanks so much for reading!! Your continued support helps us greatly :D I never thought we hold on for so long, but I can see the end, and I'm so excited to share this final bit of YMtK with you all (it's going to be probably one more year before this is done, though!). Huge thanks to Hunny for her help, and see you all next week~~!! (Even more dog food to come >u<)
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Also, I've been up to some other side stuff, including slowly working on an English translation (from Japanese) for Bekkouame! It's free on steam in Japanese and Chinese, so check it out! The art is beautiful. For those who are DBD fans too, I just streamed Hooked on You last night and romanced The Huntress >y< so see that on my twitch (catmasseuse). If I'm not doing tons of things, I'm not happy, so I hope you enjoy these other small projects~~ aha