Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 54: I'm of Little Use Now

"You like it that much?"

Cassian's voice sounded from behind her.

Elowen startled, turning around slowly. "M-my lord..."

He was alone in his wheelchair. Bran hadn't wheeled him in; he had managed it himself.

Elowen hurried over. "Where's Bran?"

"He's seeing the physician out," Cassian replied succinctly. He glanced past her at the ivory scepter. "You like it that much?"

Elowen found it strange. His manner toward her seemed different from earlier.

"I do," she answered. "It's a gift from His Majesty, of course I appreciate it. And it truly is beautiful."

"I have many such things. The vaults are full of them," Cassian said, raising an eyebrow. "You accepted the household keys. Haven't you bothered to look?"

"I haven't had the chance," Elowen admitted, a little sheepish.

Besides, everything in the vaults belonged to Cassian.

After an annulment, she couldn't take a single piece.

Unaware of her thoughts, Cassian simply said, "You should."

Elowen nodded. "Once I've finished reviewing the ledgers, I should take an inventory."

She then looked down at him. "My lord, why did you come in?"

His gaze settled on her face. "Before you left, you said you'd bring me back something tasty from the birthday banquet."

Elowen froze. I completely forgot.

She maintained a perfectly straight face. "The food at the Princess' banquet was really quite ordinary. Nothing worth mentioning."

"Was it?" His tone held a hint of skepticism.

"It was," Elowen insisted, quickly changing the subject. "Are you hungry?"

Cassian gave a noncommittal grunt.

Elowen ventured, "Shall I go to the kitchen and make you something good?"

He shook his head. "No need."

Elowen's heart skipped. Did he notice my lie?

But then he added, "You have an injury. Stay out of the kitchen. Let the servants handle it."

Elowen couldn't help but look at him a moment longer.

She remembered her past life, when an old knee injury had flared up, accompanied by a low fever. She had stayed in bed.

Alaric had returned from court, found no breakfast waiting, and was furious.

He had bellowed her name.

Elowen had forced herself to sit up, her voice weak. "Your Highness, I'm unwell."

Alaric had only sneered, "What now? You forced your way into my life. Can't you handle a little discomfort?"

He had stared her down. "Get up and make my meal."

Looking back, Elowen couldn't fathom her past self. Why didn't I just poison his food? End it for both of us?

But instead, she had dragged herself up and cooked him an elaborate breakfast.

That's what happens when you're too nice—you get walked all over.

The manor kitchen sent food up fast.

Elowen, already full from the banquet, only picked at her meal.

Cassian glanced at her plate. "Not hungry?"

Elowen hesitated. "...I'm watching my figure."

One of Cassian's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he said nothing more.

After they finished, Elowen stood. "My lord, I'll go look at the ledgers."

Cassian dabbed his mouth with a napkin, unhurried. "You're injured. The ledgers can wait."

He set the napkin down and tilted his chin toward the bedchamber. "Go lie on your stomach."

Elowen blinked. "Pardon?"

His tone was matter-of-fact. "To apply the salve."

Elowen was taken aback again. "I... I can manage."

"On your back?" Cassian asked. "Can you see it? Can you reach it?"

She couldn't. She thought for a moment. "Mira could help me. Or Cora."

Mira, standing nearby, immediately chimed in, "Yes! I grew up with Her Grace. When the General used to discipline her, I was always the one to apply the ointment!"

Cassian's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.

Elowen's cheeks flushed. "That was a long time ago. I was young and foolish."

Mira nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! Her Grace is very sensible now! But I can still apply the salve very well!"

Elowen felt like she was listening to a job application...

Cassian merely hummed, lowering his eyes. "Of course. I'm of little use now."

Elowen stared. "Little use...? My lord, how can you say that?"

His voice was quiet. "I'm confined to this chair. I cannot walk. I cannot even perform a simple task like applying salve. What use am I?"

Elowen was speechless.

She looked at him. The usual sharp, commanding edges of his strikingly handsome face were gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic, profound dejection.

She had never seen this side of him, not in this life nor the last.

The mighty Duke of Duskmoor, who had once ridden fearlessly across battlefields, now awakened to find his legs useless, his capabilities diminished. It was no wonder a deep-seated frustration festered within him.