Free Web NovelChapter 390: If you’re offering, why would I reject?
Deep within the stone foundations of the grand conservatory, Kaelen and Rowan were working side by side.
The space had been entirely cleared out, the long wooden tables now buried under maps of the estate and heavy, leather-bound registries.
Instead of dealing with common guard rotations, the two were strategically pouring over the highly sensitive list of attendants for the upcoming ceremony, meticulously plotting exactly how the elite forces should be stationed around the grounds to keep the Grand Duke’s true arrangement safely hidden.
Kaelen was speaking in a low, measured tone, his finger tracing a line down the parchment as he detailed the defensive blind spots.
Rowan, however, wasn’t looking at the ledger.
His gaze had drifted, completely bypassing the ink lines to lock onto Kaelen’s lips. He found himself helplessly tracking the slight, sharp movements of those lips as Kaelen spoke, completely mesmerized by the quiet precision of his voice.
Suddenly, Kaelen stopped talking. A slow, knowing smirk played at the corner of his mouth.
Rowan flinched, his heart skipping a beat as he instantly snapped his eyes upward, only to find Kaelen staring right back at him with an intensely amused look.
"You’ve been staring at my lips," Kaelen observed, his voice dropping into a smooth, teasing murmur. "Want to have a taste?"
Rowan’s face flushed a deep, immediate crimson. He shook his head frantically, his usual stoic composure entirely evaporating. "Ah—no, sorry. I was just... I was just distracted."
Kaelen let out a quiet huff of laughter. Instead of returning to the ledger, he leaned over the heavy wooden desk, planting one arm firmly on the wood to support his weight as he deliberately pushed his body forward, crowding directly into Rowan’s personal space.
"Oh yeah?" Kaelen murmured, his dark eyes glinting with a playful, possessive warmth. "So, are you going to reject my offering now?"
Rowan’s throat went dry as Kaelen’s shadow completely loomed over him. Surrounded by the scent of old paper and Kaelen’s familiar, grounding warmth, his eyes began to spiral in sweet daze.
"Ah, no..." Rowan managed to say, his voice dropping into a soft, breathy whisper as he looked up. "If... if you’re offering, why would I reject?"
Kaelen smirked fully at the submission, closing the remaining distance without another word.
He leaned over the desk and kissed him—a deep, seamless, and entirely enveloping press of his lips that silenced any remaining nerves.
As he kissed him, Kaelen brought one arm up to wrap securely around his lover’s waist, pulling him flush against the edge of the desk, while his other hand anchored firmly onto Rowan’s shoulder, holding him perfectly steady as they melted into each other.
The ledger was entirely forgotten, the heavy tension of the estate completely fading into the background for a few precious moments.
When Kaelen finally broke the kiss, his thumb lightly brushed against Rowan’s flushed cheek, his eyes drifting past his shoulder toward the massive, arched glass windows that looked out into the frost-dusted gardens.
"We should keep an eye on them while we finish this," Kaelen murmured, his voice rough but tender as his grip relaxed just enough to let Rowan breathe.
"Yeah," Rowan whispered.
Outside, completely insulated from the heavy political stress and the dark, unholy chaos of the guest quarters, there were children playing in the snow.
There was a young boy moving through the frozen hedges with a deliberate, focused intensity, his small hands gripping a wooden training sword.
His posture was rigid, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of the practice weapon as he mimicked the exact, heavy stances he had watched the vanguard knights perform in the capital.
Every swing was followed by a silent, internal question—wondering if these repetitive, exhausting movements were truly worth the effort, or if he was simply chasing a standard he could never fully reach.
He stopped for a moment, adjusting his grip to try and ease the stubborn ache in his right shoulder, his eyes drifting toward the main manor house.
His mind was full of quiet, unvoiced questions about how the knights were so strong, how the Duke became the war god he was today. He wanted to know so badly.
"You’re leaning too far forward again!" a bright voice called out, shattering his deep thoughts.
A young girl rushed past the hedge, her heavy winter cloak billowing behind her as she tossed a packed ball of snow into the air, completely unbothered by the heavy tension gripping the adults inside the stone walls.
Her laughter was loud and clear, a stark contrast to the grim gravity of the manor.
"You should learn to take a break, Bellard. You won’t be a knight overnight you know." she said.
"But this will make me a step closer," the boy, Bellard stated, lifting his sword to swing it again. "I’m going to be like the knights. And I’m going to even be as strong as the Duke. Just watch me."
From the conservatory windows, Rowan watched the boy resume his stance, a faint, rare trace of softness touching his features as he leaned back against Kaelen’s side.
"He is so inspired and working hard," Rowan murmured, his hand resting over Kaelen’s on the desk.
"Yes, he is," Kaelen replied softly, his eyes lingering on the children before he picked up the pen to return to the attendant list. "That is the kind of conviction a child needs to grow into what they wish to become. That child, he will definitely become a great knight in the future."
Just then, they spotted the crown prince, princess, and the young Lord approaching the garden pathway.
Princess Liora was walking a few paces ahead with young Lucius, her winter boots crunching softly in the fresh powder as she talked excitedly about the rare snow acorns she had discovered near the frozen greenhouse earlier that morning.
Young Lucius listened with an indulgent, familiar grin, occasionally pointing out the landmarks of his family’s vast northern estate.
Prince Cassian walked a single pace behind them, keeping his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
He was trying his absolute best to maintain the stiff, regal composure expected of the capital’s future ruler, but Liora knew him better than anyone; she could see the subtle twitch in his step that proved he wanted nothing more than to drop the royal act and join the fun in the snow.
Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic whoosh cut through the crisp morning air—a sound that was undeniably the clean slice of a wooden training sword cutting through a drift.
Cassian’s head snapped up instantly. Ever since they had arrived in the North from the Capital, his rigorous daily sword practice routine had been put on hold. But it wasn’t that he particularly missed it. He just missed the feeling of swinging the wooden sword.
"Look, Cassian!" Liora called out, her eyes lighting up as she turned back to her brother, pointing a gloved finger toward the frozen hedges. "There’s a kid over there practicing the sword just like you do!"
Prince Cassian’s cheeks flushed with a brief flash of royal embarrassment. He quickly hurried his steps to close the gap, leaning in to whisper sharply, "Liora, do not point and speak so loudly of people right out in the open. It lacks decorum. Besides, we probably shouldn’t disturb their training."
But his warning fell on entirely deaf ears. Princess Liora was already marching forward across the lawn, completely determined to introduce herself.
Back in the capital, their lives were wrapped in stifling protocols; everyone knew exactly who they were from a mile away, instantly bowing their heads to the stone floors, never daring to speak freely or show a single ounce of their real personalities.
They always sugar coated their words, trying to get in their good grace for the sake of their future reign. It was always so annoying and exhausting.
But here in the North, the air felt entirely different. Even when the local people showed them deep, unyielding respect, they still treated the royal siblings with a grounding sense of normalcy. It was incredibly refreshing.
Liora couldn’t help but wonder if this trip was the perfect chance to finally make real friends with children her own age, other than their cousin Lucius.
As Liora boldly stepped through the gap in the hedge, the young girl who had been teasing Bellard paused, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the newcomers.
Bellard, his wooden sword caught mid-swing, lowered the weapon to his side, his shoulders shifting slightly to ease the stubborn ache as he blinked in surprise at the beautifully embroidered winter cloaks of the children standing before him.
From the conservatory windows, Rowan and Kaelen watched the small gathering form in the snow.
"The princess moves fast," Rowan noted, a subtle, proud curve touching his lips as he leaned closer into Kaelen’s shoulder.
"She has the spirit of the North in her, even if she doesn’t know it yet," Kaelen murmured, his dark eyes observing the young prince, who was currently adjusting his collar, trying to figure out how to greet common children without sounding like a rigid imperial decree. "Let them play. It’s a rare peace they won’t find anywhere else."
He turned to Rowan and inched closer, dropping his face to his lover’s neck and sniffed in.
"And while they are playing their own games, shall we play ours?" Rowan’s face immediately turned crimson red. Sir Kaelen was just so forward.
