Chapter 82: The Red Stone Between Them

If there was a manual for surviving a transmigrated life, Cherion was reasonably certain "How to Not Die of Embarrassment While Being Carried Like a Victorian Heroine" would have been a top-tier Chapter for him. Unfortunately, no such guide existed. Instead, he was stuck in the iron grip of Zarius, being dragged through the manor like a very unwilling luggage set, and Zarius wasn’t slowing down for anyone.

Cherion’s face was currently a shade of crimson that probably rivaled a ripe tomato, or maybe a very angry pomegranate. Every maid they passed seemed to suddenly find a very important speck of dust to scrub, though their eyes were definitely glued to the spectacle. The butlers were even worse, no matter how hard they tried, their polite faces couldn’t hide the little twitches at the corners of their mouths.

"Your Grace, for the love of everything, put me down," Cherion hissed, digging his fingers into the Duke’s coat like it was a lifeline.

"You’re bleeding, if you somehow missed that," Zarius stated

"It’s a scrape! A literal playground injury," Cherion countered. He tried to squirm, but it was like trying to wiggle out of a marble statue’s embrace. "The medical definition of ’fine.’ I can walk, I can hop, I can probably even do a clumsy little dance if you just put me on the floor."

Zarius’s jaw tightened. "You should learn to appreciate it when someone intends to assist you."

"I appreciate the help, really," Cherion said, trying to find a middle ground before he died of pure shame. "But there are other ways! You could let me lean on your shoulder? You could hold my hand? You don’t have to... bridal-carry me like we’re at the end of a very dramatic soap opera!"

They reached Cherion’s bedroom door, and Zarius didn’t even bother with the handle. He just kicked it and the door swung open. He marched in and plopped Cherion onto the plush velvet couch by the fireplace.

Zarius straightened his back, rolling his shoulders as if he’d just set down a bag of feathers. "I already told you, you aren’t heavy."

"How many times do I have to say it? I’m not worried about my weight!" Cherion blurted out. He was absolutely not meant to be the "damsel in distress" in the gossip column.

Cherion didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He just shut his eyes and focused on that weird, warm buzz of mana that always seemed to settle right in his chest. He was getting faster day by day. A soft, pale gold light flickered over his palm. As he pressed it to the skin of his knee, the stinging heat vanished. The dirt disappeared as the skin healed, and within seconds, the skin was as smooth as if the fall had never happened.

Cherion pulled his hand back, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips. He ran a finger over the healed skin. "See? Good as new. Though I feel sorry for the pants."

The shredded fabric of his trousers was a lost cause, a jagged hole revealing his now-perfectly-fine kneecap. Zarius stood by the cold fireplace, watching the display with an intensity that made Cherion’s pulse do a nervous little tap-dance.

"Don’t let Ezek’s words rattle around in your head," Zarius said suddenly. "He is a fool who confuses volume with strength. He didn’t know what he was saying."

Cherion looked up, his smile softening. He picked a stray thread from his ruined trousers. "Honestly? I’m not even thinking about him. He’s just... a guy. There’s always an ’Ezek’ in any kind of situation. Lame, really."

Zarius let out a short, dry huff, the closest thing to a laugh Cherion had heard all day. "Good. Because you aren’t a burden, Cherion. Quite the opposite. We will likely be the ones leaning on you."

The sincerity in the Duke’s voice hit like a brick, and for a second, Cherion felt all his usual snark just drain out of him, replaced by a strange, humming warmth that had nothing to do with magic. "Thank you," Cherion said, his voice a bit softer than intended. "For the kind words. And... you know. For jumping in back there. Even if the ’exit strategy’ was a bit much."

The Duke didn’t move for a long moment, then his hand disappeared into the inner fold of his coat. He pulled out a silver chain with a little stone in the center. It was a Red Sapphire, the exact shade of Zarius’s eyes, deep, glowing, and dangerous.

Cherion’s smile faltered, his breath hitching. "Wow! Look at that... It’s beautiful. It’s exactly like your eye color."

"It’s for you," Zarius said. He stepped closer, the weight of his gaze pinning Cherion to the couch.

"Huh?" Cherion’s heart did a nervous little somersault. "For me?"

"It’s for protection," Zarius explained. "A drop of magic’s locked in the stone. If you ever find yourself alone against a beast... if I am not there to protect you... The stone will act as your personal shield. It will mask your scent and give you some defense. It will buy me time to find you."

Cherion looked at the stone, then back at Zarius. "Wow. That’s... that’s incredibly thoughtful." He took the necklace, the silver feeling cool against his palm, but the stone itself was warm, as if it had a heartbeat. "I’ll wear it. Always."

He tried to fasten it, but his fingers were still a bit shaky from the adrenaline and the sheer proximity of the man standing over him. The tiny clasp was a nightmare of silver wire. "I think... I think I’m failing at this," he muttered. "Can you help me?"

Zarius let out a long, slow sigh that sounded more like a growl. He stepped into the space between Cherion’s knees, leaning down until his face was inches from Cherion’s. Cherion froze. From this angle, He was suddenly eye-level with Zarius’s Adam’s apple, which was huge, kind of distracting, and moved when the Duke swallowed.

Zarius reached around his neck, his large, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as they navigated the silver chain. Cherion felt the Duke’s breath on his forehead. Then, something happened that made Cherion’s entire world tilt.

Cherion felt Zarius’s nose brush softly against his neck, not just a touch but more like a long, deep inhale. Cherion froze, eyes wide in disbelief. Is he... sniffling me? He wondered if Zarius had just accidentally touched him, or if his beastly instincts were catching his scent.

KNOCK KNOCK

The door to the chambers burst open without a warning.

"Lord Cherion! Have you treated..." Reiner froze in the doorway, his eyes flicking from the Duke, practically breathing down Cherion’s neck, to Cherion, who looked like he was trying to disappear.

Zarius moved with the speed of a strike. He pulled back so fast it was almost a blur, his back snapping straight as he turned away from Cherion. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at Reiner. He simply marched past the attendant and out into the hallway, his cape billowing behind him like a storm cloud.

Reiner stood there, blinking, his gaze following the Duke before turning back to Cherion. "Wow," Reiner whispered, his voice full of genuine awe. "I’ve never seen the Duke look like that. His face... it was pretty red, wasn’t it?"

Cherion didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His fingers drifted up to his throat, brushing against the silver chain and the warm red sapphire that sat right over his pulse. But just as quickly as the warmth had been there, it seemed to slip away, replaced by a cold, almost hollow sensation.