Craige had been searching around town when he spotted a black carriage parked to the side, eerily abandoned near the foot of the mountain.
He narrowed his eyes and signaled the soldiers to inspect it, but it was empty.
Still, he could smell Luren's scent lingering there.
He clenched his fists, eyes scanning the area, frustration and worry tightening his chest.
"Check every inn in town," Craige ordered, his voice sharp.
Just then, Rolen came riding fast on horseback, his face flushed with urgency.
"Your Grace… the Duchess is at the manor now!"
"What?" Craige pulled his reins hard, reversing his horse and galloping toward the manor. "How did she get back? And the others?" he asked, confusion clouding his thoughts.
"They're all safe now," Rolen replied breathlessly.
Craige barely slowed down. "Tell the soldiers to return. Did you catch any of them?" he added, his tone darkening as he urged his horse faster.
"They were all killed on the spot," Rolen answered grimly.
Craige hurriedly dismounted from his horse, his boots hitting the ground hard as he sprinted toward the manor entrance, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Luren?!" he shouted the moment he flung the main door open, his voice laced with panic.
"Craige..." Luren ran toward him, tears brimming in his eyes as he threw himself into Craige's arms.
Craige wrapped him in a fierce embrace, trembling slightly as relief flooded through him. "Baby, are you okay?" he asked breathlessly, clutching him tightly like he'd disappear. "What happened? Tell me who hurt you?"
"You should change your clothes first. Luren, take him to your bedroom, Your Grace," Clara said gently, stepping forward as the two of them slowly pulled apart.
Craige gave a small nod, still breathless, his gaze never leaving Luren's face. Without hesitation, he swept Luren into his arms, holding him protectively. He didn't even realize Luren was wearing a different cloak, his mind too clouded by worry and relief.
"Good job, everyone... Take your rest now," Craige said, his voice softer but resolute, before hurrying up the stairs with Luren cradled tightly against him, like nothing else in the world mattered.
He placed Luren gently in the bathroom, hot water already pouring into the tub. Carefully, Craige began to undress him, his breath
catching when he saw the red marks bruised around Luren's wrists.
They'll pay for this, he swore silently, fury boiling beneath his calm expression.
Luren clung tightly to his neck, refusing to let go, his whole body trembling.
"You're safe now, baby," Craige whispered, holding him close. "Let's clean you up first and tend to your wounds."
He gently bathed Luren, then dried him off and carried him to the bed, dressing him in soft clothes.
As he finished, Luren's voice broke the silence, raw and fragile. "Someone… someone help me…"
Craige's heart cracked. He sat beside him and began drying his hair with a towel. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay? I'm so sorry I
didn't get there sooner."
Luren shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clung to Craige again.
"I was so scared…" his voice trembled. "The babies… What if something happened to them?" He sobbed harder, gripping Craige's tunic.
Craige wrapped his arms around him protectively, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
"Shhh… They're okay. I promise. Let me call the doctor to check on you too," he whispered, then gently moved toward the door and called for the maid.
"Tell the doctor to come right away."
After a minute, the doctor arrived with Rolen.
The doctor carefully examined Luren and gently dressed his wounds.
"The baby is safe," the doctor said with a reassuring smile. "They're strong, just like you, Duchess."
Craige brushed a few strands of hair from Luren's face and placed a tender kiss on his forehead.
"Thank you, Doctor," Craige said sincerely, his voice thick with emotion.
The doctor gave a nod and quietly exited the room with Rolen.
"Everything is fine now. You should rest," Craige said softly as he tucked Luren under the blankets, his hand lingering a moment
longer on Luren's.
"Craige… hold me," Luren whispered, his voice trembling, eyes filled with vulnerability.
Craige smiled warmly, his heart aching at the sight. Without hesitation, he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around Luren, holding him tightly, as if shielding him from all the pain in the world.
Luren buried his face in Craige's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the warmth, the strength, and the safety he longed for.
When morning came, Luren quietly told Craige the truth about what had happened to him.
----
Luren shivered from the cold as the carriage rattled along the rough path, eventually coming to a halt somewhere dark and secluded at the foot of the mountain. He kept his eyes shut, pretending to be unconscious, his heart pounding in silence.
"I'll go look for a place we can stay tonight," the leader muttered, jumping down from the carriage and disappearing into the shadows.
The two masked men remained beside Luren, their breaths visible in the frigid air.
"How are we supposed to get out of here?" one of them whispered harshly. "The gates won't open until they find them. Did you contact the others?"
"I tried," the other replied with frustration in his voice. "But the soldiers are everywhere. I can't risk it."
A heavy silence followed.
"This cold is unbearable... I'm going to smoke," the first man said, rubbing his gloved hands together.
"I'll come with you," the other muttered.
"Who will guard him?" the man snapped.
"You really think he can still run? Look at him, he's pale and shivering. He might freeze to death before we even reach the king," the
other replied, glancing at Luren before stepping down from the carriage.
Luren's eyes slowly fluttered open. He stayed still for a moment, his body trembling from the cold, then quietly scanned his
surroundings. It was pitch dark outside. The two masked men were standing near the opposite door, talking amongst themselves, unaware he was awake.
Carefully, Luren shifted his weight and reached for the door beside him. His fingers, numb from the cold, fumbled slightly before he managed to unlock it. A faint, almost defiant smile touched his lips as he opened the door just wide enough to slip through.
A blast of freezing wind hit him as he stepped onto the snow-covered ground. He staggered forward, his breath quick and shallow. The night swallowed him as he walked, barefoot, weak, and wrapped in nothing but thin, torn clothes.
Each step burned, but he kept moving. Then he heard it, the carriage door slamming shut behind him.
"Damn it! Find him!!" one of the masked men bellowed, his voice echoing in the night, laced with frustration and disbelief. None of them had expected that the dying boy would have the strength or the will to run.
Luren couldn't run any faster. His legs trembled, and his body was numb from the cold. Every breath burned in his chest as he pushed himself to get away from them. He stumbled across the street, relief flooding
his heart when he saw the warm glow of lights from a nearby inn and pub.
There were people up ahead, figures moving in the distance.
They'll help me… The northern people always help.
But just as that hope sparked within him—
"Arghh—!"
A strong hand yanked him back.
"Where do you think you're going?" the leader growled, his breath hot and foul against Luren's ear.
"L-Let go… H-Help!" Luren struggled, kicking weakly, but he had no strength left. His body betrayed him, and he was dragged back toward the dark carriage.
Shlick—
The grip on him suddenly vanished.
The leader gasped and fell to his knees, staring in shock at the blade that had sliced across his back. Before he could utter a word, a second swing drove a sword clean through his chest.
Luren's eyes widened.
A man with crimson-red hair stood before him, the sword in his hand dripping blood. He quickly knelt and wrapped his cloak around Luren's shivering shoulders.
"Are you alright?" the man asked gently, his eyes scanning Luren with concern.
"H-Help me…" Luren whispered, clutching the stranger's arm in desperation. His gaze darted around, as if expecting someone else to come out of the shadows.
"Alright, let's get you to the inn first," the man said, starting to guide him.
But Luren stopped him, grabbing his sleeve tightly.
"Please… can you take me to the Duke's manor?" he pleaded, his voice trembling.
The red-haired man paused, then nodded with a soft smile."Okay. Let's call a carriage."
"Thank you for helping me," Luren said, shuddering from the cold.
"Don't talk. Save your energy," the man replied, adjusting his cloak to wrap Luren tighter.
"May I know your name?" the man asked softly.
"I'm Luren," he answered, looking at the man. "What's your name?" He needed to know who had saved him.
The carriage came to a halt. They glanced out the window, he was already at the manor.
"Looks like we're here," the man said, opening the carriage door and helping Luren down.
"Thank you…" Luren paused. He still didn't know his name.
"Desmond," the man said with a faint smile. "My name is Desmond," he repeated, his hand still holding Luren's.
"Thank you, Desmond," Luren said with a faint smile. "I hope I can see you again—to thank you properly for saving me."
"We will see each other again, Luren," Desmond replied, his gaze lingering on him with something unreadable, something deeper.
"L-Luren…!!" Clara's voice called as she ran toward them.
"I will see you again…" Desmond murmured, almost to himself, before stepping back into the carriage.
Luren only nodded. He was too tired to grasp what Desmond truly meant. As he turned toward Clara and the others rushing to him.