Chapter 518: The Safe Return

The wheels ground to a halt against the gravel driveway of the ducal manor. The moment the carriage door was pulled open by an attending footman, Cherion barely waited for the stepping stool before hopping down onto the stone path.

He didn’t make it three steps toward the grand entrance before the heavy double oak doors were thrown wide open from the inside.

Standing under the bright amber glow of the entryway chandeliers was Zarius. His tall, broad frame was completely rigid, his dark coat unbuttoned at the neck, and his piercing eyes locked onto Cherion with an intensity that practically burned through the cool night air. Right behind him stood Flio, looking pale, frantic, and clutching a stack of unread intelligence reports.

"Zarius!" Cherion called out, breaking into a brisk walk.

Zarius didn’t wait for him to reach the threshold. He crossed the stone steps in three massive strides, closing the distance between them and wrapping his thick, heavy arms around Cherion’s waist, pulling him so tightly against his chest that Cherion’s breath hitched in a sharp gasp.

Zarius buried his face into the curve of Cherion’s neck, taking a deep, shuddering breath of his scent as if he were a drowning man finally breaking the surface of the water. His huge hands pressed firmly against the small of Cherion’s back, checking every inch of him to ensure he was whole.

"Thank God," Flio breathed out from the doorway, letting out a long, ragged sigh of relief as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "You came back just in time, Lord Cherion. His Grace was literally seconds away from calling out the entire ducal guard regiment to tear the central district apart building by building."

Cherion wrapped his arms around Zarius’s broad shoulders, sinking into the familiar, comforting warmth of his embrace. He chuckled softly, patting the back of Zarius’s head. "Omg, Zarius... calm down, I’m right here. You won’t believe what a crazy day I had."

Zarius pulled back just an inch, his large hands shifting up to frame Cherion’s face. His eyes scanned Cherion’s features, taking in every detail before dropping down to the white linen bandage wrapped around Cherion’s right hand.

In an instant, the frantic worry in Zarius’s face vanished, replaced by an icy, terrifying void of pure malice.

"Who did this?" Zarius asked, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that made the nearby footmen visibly flinch.

"Ah, well, it’s a bit of a story," Cherion said, waving his uninjured left hand dismissively. "Remember that disgraced noble boy from the gathering? Heinrich Bramwell?"

Behind Cherion, Reiner and Ezek stepped up the driveway.

"His Grace should know that Lord Avery and Reiner were targeted with a quick-acting incapacitating drug inside a theater washroom," Ezek reported in his steady, deep voice, bowing his head slightly. "The assailant was Heinrich Bramwell. He cornered Lord Cherion with a blade while the others were unconscious."

Zarius’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees in a split second. Without a word, he reached down to his hip, his fingers closing around the cold leather buckle of his heavy sword belt, unmounting the blade with a sharp, metallic click.

"Where is he?" Zarius demanded coldly, his eyes turning pitch black with rage. "Which dungeon is he in?"

"Zarius, stop, he’s already taken away!" Cherion pleaded, quickly grabbing Zarius’s forearm before the Grand Duke could turn back toward his horse. "Derrick’s house guards caught him and dragged him straight to the Imperial Ministry of Justice’s holding cells. You don’t need to ride out to chop his head off!"

Flio rushed down the steps, his face full of anxious concern as he stepped past Zarius to look at Reiner. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders, turning him around to check for injuries. "Reiner! Are you alright?! Did that bastard touch you?!"

Reiner offered his brother a faint, reassuring smile, gently patting Flio’s arm. "I’m completely fine, Flio. The drug just put us to sleep for an hour. Lord Cherion used his healing magic to flush it out of our systems before we even reached the Avery estate. There’s nothing to worry about."

Zarius whipped his head toward Flio, his tone sharp as a whip. "Flio. How did a stripped, disgraced noble manage to bypass security, carry prohibited substance into a private noble wing, and stalk my fiancé for an entire afternoon without your intelligence network catching a whisper of it?"

Flio immediately dropped to one knee on the cold gravel, bowing his head in deep, genuine remorse. "Forgive me, Your Grace! It was a critical oversight on my part. We assumed Heinrich Bramwell was hiding in the lower slum tenements dealing with his gambling debts. I will personally launch a full investigation tonight into who supplied him with the drug and how he tracked Lord Cherion and the others."

"I want that scumbag given the absolute worst punishment the imperial law allows," Zarius growled, his knuckles white as he gripped his sheathed sword. "Better yet, have the Ministry transfer him to the ducal subterranean cells. I want to deliver his sentence with my own hands."

"Zarius, please," Cherion murmured softly, stepping closer and sliding his hands up Zarius’s chest, resting his palms against the dark fabric of his tunic. He looked up into Zarius’s dangerous, murderous eyes with a tender, grounding gaze. "I’m tired. It’s been a really long, exhausting day, and my knuckles are sore. Can we please just go inside?"

The moment Cherion’s soft voice touched his ears, the wild, murderous storm brewing inside Zarius seemed to shatter. His rigid shoulders visibly relaxed, his harsh breathing evening out as he looked down at Cherion’s sweet, tired face.

Zarius unclasped his sword belt entirely, tossing the heavy weapon to a nearby guard without looking back. He wrapped one arm securely around Cherion’s waist, pulling him close against his side, while his other hand gently stroked Cherion’s soft hair.

"Of course," Zarius whispered softly, his tone completely transforming into a warm, gentle purr that was meant strictly for Cherion alone. "Let’s go inside. You’ve done enough today."

He guided Cherion smoothly up the grand marble staircase, ignoring the lingering tension among the guards and attendants below. Once they were alone in the hallway outside their bedroom, Zarius bent down and pressed a kiss to Cherion’s temple.

"You smell like dust and theater smoke," Zarius murmured with a quiet, affectionate smile, his thumb gently caressing Cherion’s cheek as they reached the bathroom doors. "Come. Let me bathe you tonight."