Filed to story: Elowen Hale and Duke Cassian Valebourne Book PDF Free
“It’s true,” Mira insisted, then glanced at the mirror. “Your Grace, are you unhappy?”
Elowen shook her head. “No. I’m just tired.”
It was already very late. Mira didn’t question it further and hurried to help her wash and prepare for bed. Afterward, she withdrew respectfully and closed the door softly behind her.
The room fell silent. Elowen sat alone at the dressing table for a while.
Only when an unseen bird chirped outside the window did she seem to snap back to herself. She stood and walked toward the bed.
Cassian lay neatly on the bed, a thin blanket covering him. If he were awake, she would have felt embarrassed. But with his eyes closed, seemingly unaware, sharing the bed didn’t make her uncomfortable.
As she climbed in, she lifted her right foot first, but not high enough. Her foot struck the bedframe, and she hissed softly.
The mishap happened too suddenly. She couldn’t pull back in time, and her body tipped forward toward Cassian.
She let out a small cry, instinctively reaching out to brace herself. There was no floor beneath her hand, only warmth.
Firm, solid, with distinct muscle beneath her palm. Her face flushed bright red as she realized what she had touched.
The weather had been hot, the bedding thin. It felt as if her hand had landed directly against his body.
Meeting the sight of his lean, handsome face, Elowen finally came back to her senses.
As if burned, she quickly withdrew her hand and said in a hurried whisper, “I’m sorry.”
Cassian lay still, unresponsive. Elowen muttered helplessly, “I almost forgot. You can’t hear me.” She pulled her hand back, climbed onto the bed, and lay down beside him.
But the sadness she had been holding back rose again. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t suppress it.
As for Cassian, he was caught in quiet self-doubt. Compared to the night before, she was sleeping much farther away. Was he too thin now? Had she brushed against him and immediately recoiled in distaste?
Suddenly, he heard her sniff. Cassian paused.
Elowen turned over, her back to him, and pulled the blanket over herself. Soft, broken sobs echoed in the quiet room. Cassian frowned. His fingers at his side twitched twice.
Then everything fell still.
The next day, Elowen rose early. Padding softly across the floor, she made her way to the mirror.
Leaning in close, she carefully inspected her eyes-only when she was sure there was no visible redness or swelling did she finally let out a quiet breath of relief.
Mira entered from outside, holding a fresh basin of water. “Oh! You’re up early, Your Grace.”
“Going home today,” Elowen replied lightly, settling herself before the mirror. “I suppose I’m a little happy.”
Mira didn’t press further. “Alright, we’ll go with something more modest today.”
Once her hair was done and her attire arranged, Elowen prepared to depart, Mira trailing behind her.
Bran met them in the front courtyard and gave a small nod. “Your Grace, allow me to assign two of the house guard to escort you. Both men served in the army-disciplined and trustworthy.”
Elowen paused, then gave a short nod. “Very well.”
When they arrived at Hale Manor, the carriage rolled slowly to a halt before the gates. As Elowen stepped down, her gaze happened to fall on two small tufts of wild grass sprouting beside the worn stone threshold.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced-clear and vivid.
Years ago, when her father and brothers were still alive, the street outside had been packed with carriages late into the night. Guests came and went in endless succession. The stone steps before the gate had once been worn smooth by the tread of a hundred boots.
Now, it was all too quiet. A quiet ache stirred in her chest.
“My lady…”
The steward, Regan, stepped forward. At the sight of her, his weathered face lit up, voice trembling with emotion. “My lady, you’ve finally… finally come home.”
Ever since he suffered a throat injury years ago, Regan had spoken with difficulty. But Elowen was long accustomed to it and listened patiently before replying with a smile, “Today is the day I return to visit my family. His Grace remains unconscious, so it wasn’t convenient for him to come with me.”
“Understand… understand…” Regan nodded slowly.
“I’ll head to the family chapel now, pay my respects to our ancestors.”
“Good… good…”
“You can go about your work. No need to accompany me.”
Regan responded with a grunt of acknowledgment. Then he seemed to remember something. “Also… the… the Duke’s heir… is here too…”
Elowen looked surprised. “Leonhart came?”
“Yes… yes…”
She smiled, her eyes curving as she took Mira along with her down the corridor. Behind them, Regan struggled to finish his sentence. “Also… His Highness… came… too…”
But Elowen didn’t hear that part. On the path to the chapel, Mira said with a cheerful grin, “I remember His Lordship always liked the things you made, my lady.”
“He did,” Elowen replied, “and I brought some honey-almond tea cakes today. I’ll share a few with him.”
She felt a little puzzled. Why would Leonhart be visiting the chapel at the manor today?
As they spoke, they arrived. The lighting inside wasn’t great. Elowen could make out two vague figures near the altar. One was clearly Leonhart, and the other was likely his attendant.
With a soft laugh, she stepped inside. “Leonhart, sometimes I suspect you have the gift of foresight. How else would you know I made tea cakes today just for my return?”
Leonhart turned at the sound of her voice. “Elow-“
He caught himself and corrected, “My lady.”
“So well-behaved,” she said, her smile deepening as she looked over at him.
She was about to speak again when she caught a glimpse of the man standing beside him. The words caught in her throat.
Most of Alaric’s frame was cloaked in shadow, but even in the dim light, his face remained striking-sharply handsome.
Elowen frowned slightly and instinctively took a small step back, then quickly composed herself with a faint smile.
Not a warm one. Just courteous, distant. Alaric felt a wave of irritation rise within him.
“Your Highness is here too,” Elowen said, her tone flat, nothing like the warmth she had shown to Leonhart just moments ago, as if Alaric were no more than a stranger.
He didn’t understand. What was she playing at? Was this another ploy to attract his attention?
“Oh, right.” Elowen turned to Mira and took the food box from her hands, opened it, and offered it to Leonhart. “Want one?”
Leonhart’s eyes nearly welled with tears.
Earlier that morning, he’d still been curled up under his blankets, sound asleep, when Alaric barged in and dragged him off to the family crypt to pay respects to the ancestors.
He had trained under Elowen’s father briefly in his youth, so there was no real excuse to refuse. He had wanted to eat first, but Alaric shoved him into the carriage before he could even dress properly.
Now he was starving. Faced with Elowen’s bright smile, he didn’t hesitate and eagerly reached for a cake.
“These are for the memorial, aren’t they?” Alaric’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
Leonhart froze mid-reach. So… he wasn’t supposed to eat them?
“It’s fine. I made extra,” Elowen said with a kind smile. “Take some. They’re for sharing.”
Leonhart breathed a sigh of relief, finally free of guilt, and picked up a piece.
He took a bite. The soft, subtly sweet flavor melted over his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut for a second in bliss before he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth.
Alaric watched, throat bobbing. He was… hungry.
Leonhart chewed contentedly, then turned to Alaric. “You should have one too. Hers are the best.”
Alaric scoffed inwardly. No one knew Elowen’s cooking better than he did.
She used to send all her pastries and cakes straight to the Crown Prince’s Wing. And every time, he had them thrown out or given away.
But today, Alaric thought, if Elowen were to offer him one personally… he might actually take a bite. To his surprise, once Leonhart had taken his share, Elowen closed the box and set it aside.
“All right. Time for the offerings.”
She didn’t even glance in Alaric’s direction. He let out a cold laugh and turned on his heel.
Leonhart quickly followed, carefully guarding the rest of the cakes.
Elowen ignored them for now. She stepped up to the family shrine, carefully laying out each plate of sweetbread on the long wooden table.
Then she lit the taper, touched her fingers to her forehead and chest, and bowed before the carved memorial stones with quiet reverence.
