Chapter 105 Dead & Gone

The morning sun cast a pale, unforgiving light through the high, arched windows of the Valemont study, offering no warmth to the heavy gloom inside.

​Lucien sat rigidly behind his mahogany desk, his posture unyielding, though his eyes were hollow and bloodshot. He hadn’t slept a wink. Every time he closed his eyes, the chaotic echoes of the previous night—the maid’s shrieked accusation, Cassian’s bold public kiss, and the sickening realization that Elian was gone—flashed behind his eyelids like jagged glass.

​A silver tray sat untouched on the corner of his desk, the food growing completely cold. A steaming cup of black coffee had long since formed a thin, bitter skin across the top. Lucien hadn’t touched a single bite. His stomach churned with a nauseating mix of stress, fury, and a hollow, consuming panic that he refused to name aloud.

​"Elian..." he murmured under his breath, staring at his desk like it had all the answers he needed.

​He was working himself to the bone, aggressively reviewing ledgers and political correspondence with furious efficiency, using the paperwork as a blunt instrument to beat back the rising tide of his own anxiety. If he kept his mind occupied, he wouldn’t have to think about the fact that Elian was now entirely out of his reach, wrapped in another man’s protection.

​"You there! Are you completely simple-minded? I specifically asked for imported silk linens in the east drawing room, not these coarse peasant rags!"

​Rowena’s shrill, piercing voice echoed mercilessly down the hallway, cutting straight through the heavy oak doors of the study.

​Lucien’s jaw tightened so hard a muscle flickered violently in his cheek. He forced his eyes back down to the parchment in front of him, dipping his quill into the ink with a sharp, controlled jab.

​"My lady, I assure you those were brought directly from—" a terrified young maid stammered in defense, before being cut off entirely.

​"Silence when I am speaking to you!" Rowena shrieked, her voice grating against Lucien’s already frayed nerves like a dull blade. "If you cannot follow the simplest of instructions, I will have the Duke strip you of your position and throw you out onto the streets by noon! Do you understand me?"

​Inside the study, Lucien let out a slow, shuddering breath through his nose. He closed his eyes, gripping the edges of the desk until his knuckles turned ghostly white. Every fiber of his being screamed to throw open the door, to roar at her to shut her mouth, to put an arrogant, vindictive princess firmly in her place.

​He was a Duke. He was feared, powerful, and untouchable. Yet, bound by the fragile political alliance he had traded his soul for, he had to sit here and swallow his rage. He forced his fingers to relax, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper. He could not snap at her—not yet. He had to endure it. He had to keep playing the part, even as the silence in the room felt heavier and more suffocating than ever.

​Suddenly, Lucien was startled by the bang of his door.

​He snapped his head up, ready to take his anger out on whoever dared to walk in with such ill manners.

​"Where is he?!" Rowan roared before Lucien could say a word, slamming his hands down hard against Lucien’s desk.

​Lucien frowned hard, glaring at his cousin.

​"You’re my cousin, Rowan. But you’re not above the law. Do not disrespect me," Lucien warned in a cold tone.

​Rowan scoffed, pointing a finger at Lucien, "I used to think you had some sense in you; turns out, power has blinded you." He started to pace the floor in angry strides.

​"The boy’s father was clearly innocent, yet you punished him, you used him—"

​"Rowan..." Lucien growled, low and warning, as he stood from his chair.

​But Rowan seemed to be past caring what Lucien did or said, "You exploited him in the worst ways, and now, you make him disappear for good!" He paused, glaring at Lucien, who now stood right in front of him.

​"You’re no better than a monster—"

​"Say what you want. If you were in my shoes, you would let him go, too. It was either his life or my reputation... I had to save both—"

​"Oh, save me the patronage, Your Grace. You fucking killed him—"

​"I dare you to say that again," Lucien grabbed Rowan by the collar, pulling him closer to glare right into his eyes.

​Rowan frowned, his eyes suddenly narrowing to a gruesomely-soke understanding. "Shit... it wasn’t you, was it?" Rowan murmured.

​Lucien’s hand loosened on Rowan’s collar, a slow dread creeping into his voice as he asked, "What are you trying to say?" He asked slowly.

​"Of course, she would stop the news from reaching you." Rowan stepped away from Lucien, but never looked away from his cousin.

​Lucien’s heart was already beating faster, his palms turning icy cold, and he sensed the shift in the air. Something told him he was about to hear very bad news, and it would be about the person he didn’t want it to be about.

​"Two fishermen came rushing to the manor at dawn, and your dear fiancé happened to stop them at the gates. Luckily, I intervened and questioned them..." Rowan paused, his fists clenching.

​He watched Lucien’s face and suddenly realized just how devastated his cousin was. Yet, he could not understand why Lucien let Elian go if he felt this deeply for him.

​"Perhaps I should let you go back to your work—"

​"What did the fishermen say?!" Lucien snapped, his voice lethal as his eyes almost turned pitch black.

​Rowan sighed. It was better to let it out once and for all.

​"They found Cassian’s carriage shattered by a jagged rock in the fast-flowing river. Blood, torn clothes... but not a body in sight. They believe the people drowned and were carried away by the harsh tides," Rowan spoke slowly.

​Silence.

​And then, laughter.

​Rowan frowned, staring at his cousin, who rarely laughed, now laughing in a very unsettling way.

​He slowly walked over to Lucien and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Are you okay?" He questioned softly.

​Lucien suddenly stopped laughing, his eyes locked on Rowan—cold, unfeeling.

​"I am fine," he murmured and walked back to his desk, lowering himself onto his chair and picking up his quill.

​"You’re not. Maybe it’s best you rest for now—"

​" النموذج said I am fine!" Lucien slammed his hand on the table.

​Rowan took a step back, watching Lucien carefully.

​Lucien resumed his work, trying his best to write something down on his parchment, but his hands were trembling so visibly that he couldn’t take it anymore.

​He pressed his palms flat on the desk, lowering his face for a few seconds.

​"Have men search the whole river, Rowan. They must find Elian... alive," he ordered, low and grave.

​"I will do that. But..." Rowan stepped closer to the desk, walking around it to stand right next to Lucien.

​"You could have stopped this by being honest—"

​"I can’t!" Lucien growled, gripping the quill tightly, "I can’t, Rowan, not when I’m this close to the throne," he murmured darkly.

​"The throne or Elian... it is quite clear you can’t have both," Rowan reasoned.

​Lucien was quiet, breathing hard and angry.

​"I think it’s time to be truthful to yourself. If we don’t find him—"

​"He will be found," Lucien cut him off sharply.

​Rowan nodded, "All I’m saying is... right now, you’re regretting not loving him the way he deserved... a part of you is screaming at you for failing him, for failing yourself." His hand landed softly on Lucien’s shoulder.

​"If he is found, Lucien, for the last time, I beg you, be honest to him, for both of your sakes—"

​"Am I interrupting something?" Rowena suddenly walked through the door, looking as beautiful as ever.

​"Yes, Your Majesty. If you don’t mind giving us some space for some family time—"

​"He is family, Rowan. And, no, she isn’t interrupting. Go." Lucien waved Rowan away.

​Rowan gritted his teeth, closing his eyes to draw deep breaths in.

​"Have a good day, Princess," Rowan said and walked out of the office, shutting the door.

​"Oh, Lucien. You have barely touched your food. Are you feeling sick?" Rowena asked softly, glancing at the untouched tray of food.

​Lucien shook his head, "Perhaps I am sick," he nodded, his brows creasing slightly as he held his tongue back from asking Rowena if she had any hand in Elian’s disappearance.

​If Elian were here, he would not waste a second in accusing Rowena of doing it.

​That’s what he loved about Elian—he was always so truthful, so ready to fight for what he believed was just, notwithstanding his status.

​Just like Elian had tried to fight for their love, but Lucien had been too cowardly to join in that fight. Now, he was on the verge of losing the person who had truly made his heart and soul sing.

​"Are you listening, my love?" Rowena’s sweet voice interrupted Lucien’s memories.

​He slowly lifted his face, locking eyes with her. He suddenly realized he could not keep doing this; if he did, he’d go mad.

​"You will return to the palace today," he stated.

​"What?" Rowena’s face twisted in an ugly manner.