Lucien had not spoken to Elian since their arrival. But he saw him closely.
They sat in the dining hall, the king sitting at the head of the table, with Lucien and Rowena sitting beside him.
Elian stood by the pillar as Rowena had instructed.
The maids served and poured drinks, stepping back until the next time they're needed.
"Lucien, the Morel boy…" Alaric cleared his throat, glancing at Elian, "now your assistant, am I right?" He asked.
Lucien nodded, not touching the food, "You're right, your Majesty." He replied calmly.
"Mm," Alaric sipped his wine, "He looks better than the last time. You pay him well, I see." He smiled.
Elian felt rage embrace him from the inside out. How dare Alaric speak about him after the evil he had done? He was mad, and he wanted to march over there and slice a knife across Alaric's throat.
But he didn't move a muscle; he stood composed, staring at the far-off wall.
