Filed to story: Elowen Hale and Duke Cassian Valebourne Book PDF Free
When she woke the next morning and looked in the mirror, there were two dark circles under her eyes.
Mira came in to help with her hair, chattering as always. “Your Grace, the old man from the village brought vegetables this morning. I heard the mushrooms are especially fresh. Some of them are huge! Shall I have the kitchen cook some for lunch?”
Mira loved mushrooms.
Elowen used to like them, too, but after last night, she realized maybe not so much anymore.
Elowen didn’t even hesitate. “No!”
Mira blinked. “Why not?”
Elowen pinched her fingers together, frowning. “I hate mushrooms. Especially the big ones.”
Mira replied, “…eh?” Since when?
Just then, Bran called from outside the room, “Your Grace. The palace sent someone.”
Elowen looked toward the door. “Who?”
“His Highness.”
She froze. Bran added, “Word reached the palace that His Grace stirred. His Majesty is concerned, so he sent His Highness to check on him.”
Elowen nodded slowly. In her past life, when Cassian had awakened, Alaric had come to Duskmoor Manor, too.
Although Cassian hadn’t fully regained consciousness this time, the palace always had ways of knowing. Whatever needed to be known, His Majesty would know first.
It was natural that Alaric had been sent.
“Have His Highness received in the front hall?” Elowen said.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
She turned to Mira. “Let’s finish dressing.”
Mira hesitated. She’d grown up beside Elowen and knew all about her past with Alaric. Tentatively, she asked, “Your Grace… maybe skip the lip color today? It might look like you’re trying to impress His Highness…”
Elowen smiled. “Silly Mira. Avoiding something just to prove I’m not trying to impress him is still a form of catering to him. We don’t owe His Highness anything. However, we normally dress, that’s how we’ll dress today. Let’s make it beautiful.”
Mira wasn’t quite sure she understood, but nodded anyway. Half an hour later, they reached the front hall. Alaric had been waiting for some time.
He sat perfectly composed in his chair, a cup of water at his side, mostly gone cold. When he looked up and saw her, his eyes flickered with unmistakable admiration.
Elowen wore a deep red gown of fine fabric, its lines simple and restrained. Her hair was set in a neat coiled twist, her neckline modestly cut and edged with subtle embroidery. She looked composed and refined, her beauty quiet rather than bold.
Alaric narrowed his eyes, a slow, mocking smile tugging at his lips. “Married to my uncle now, and still playing games. Dressing like this-trying to make Duskmoor Manor a laughingstock?”
Elowen raised an eyebrow. “Your Highness, what do you mean by that?” He snorted. “I came to see my uncle, not you. There was no need for you to dress up.”
“You think I dressed like this for you?”
“Didn’t you?”
Her gaze cooled. “No wonder Her Majesty is in such a rush to find you a wife. You’re sorely lacking in manners.”
Alaric’s brow furrowed. “You’re lecturing me now?”
“I am the Duchess of Duskmoor. I represent this household. Whether you visit or not, I present myself accordingly. Don’t say things like this in front of others. It only reflects poorly on Her Majesty’s guidance.”
For a moment, Alaric genuinely felt as if he were the one being scolded by an elder. And Elowen was younger than him!
He clenched his jaw, about to retort, but she had already moved on. “Your uncle woke briefly. He is not fully recovered.”
Still fuming, Alaric’s tone was sharp. “And you’re sure?”
She replied calmly, “We share a bed. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
Alaric froze. “You sleep beside him? Even while he’s unconscious?”
Elowen looked puzzled. “He’s my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”
He was silent for a moment. Then relaxed. She was bluffing. She liked him too much to really share a bed with another man. She was just trying to provoke him.
Well, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
“I want to see him,” he said deliberately. Elowen frowned slightly. “He’s resting. It would be rude to disturb him.”
Cassian, once so proud and untouchable, now pale and thin. She imagined he wouldn’t want others to see him in this state.
That was her reasoning. But in Alaric’s ears, it sounded like an excuse. Proof that she was lying about sharing his bed.
“His Majesty sent me,” Alaric said flatly. “If you stop me, you’re stopping His Majesty. Are you hiding something?”
After a moment of consideration, Elowen relented. “If it’s His Majesty’s will… then let’s go pay our respects.”
They walked to the courtyard.
As soon as they entered, Alaric’s sharp eyes spotted the vanity and side bed tucked into the antechamber. He paused.
Elowen turned, following his gaze. That had been arranged on their wedding night. She hadn’t had time to take it down.
Before she could explain, Alaric chuckled coldly. “Fooling others is one thing. But don’t fool yourself.”
“I’ve never slept there,” she said quickly.
He didn’t believe her.
“Since you married my uncle, live like his wife,” he said with disdain. “I wouldn’t have married you before, and I certainly won’t now. Even if you never lie with him, even if you’re still pure-it doesn’t matter. You belong to him now.”
His words were cruel, but oddly satisfying to him. Elowen still cared. She had married Cassian, but she was still trying to keep herself for Alaric.
That pleased him more than he cared to admit.
Having said that, Alaric brushed past Elowen and strode into the inner chamber.
Inside, Cassian lay motionless on the bed.
Since childhood, Alaric had revered this uncle, a respect that even surpassed what he felt for his own father, Theodric.
Only now, with his uncle unconscious, did he dare to look at him so boldly.
His gaze lingered on Cassian’s face for a moment, then suddenly, he noticed something amiss with the bed.
On the inner side of the bed, next to his uncle, a small space was vacant, occupied by a pillow. The bedsheet there bore faint creases.
It was obvious someone had slept there.
Alaric’s heart gave a violent jolt.
Could it be Elowen truly shares a bed with Uncle at night?
Elowen was about to follow him in when Bran and Cora approached.
Seeing Cora’s hesitant expression, Elowen guessed something had happened at the Manor.
In no rush to enter, she signaled to Bran with her eyes.
Understanding her meaning, Bran walked into the inner chamber.
Weighed down by his thoughts, Alaric heard Bran’s praise. “Your Highness is truly filial, coming to pay your respects the moment you heard His Grace had regained consciousness. It’s a pity he has not fully recovered; he was only awake for a short while.”
Preoccupied, Alaric showed no reaction to the compliment. Frowning, he abruptly asked, “Does Elowen sleep beside my uncle every day?”
Bran chuckled, somewhat amused, “What kind of question is that, Your Highness? His Grace and Her Grace are lawfully wedded. Isn’t it perfectly normal for them to share a bed?”
Alaric was half-convinced. “But I just saw a bed set up in the adjacent room…”
“That was me, acting on my own.” Bran scratched his head. “I thought Her Grace might find His Grace an inconvenience. But she said marrying him was her heartfelt wish, and she could not be happier.”
Heartfelt wish.
Could not be happier.
Those words scraped at Alaric’s nerves.
Bran eyed him. “However…”
Alaric’s interest piqued. He lifted his eyes, expecting a turn in the story.
Unexpectedly, Bran said earnestly, “Your Highness, you shouldn’t have addressed Her Grace by her given name. You ought to show respect, calling her ‘Aunt.’ She is kind and gentle, and may not hold it against you, but if His Grace were to learn of it, he would surely be displeased.”
