Noel stood in the doorway of his father's office, one hand gripping the frame to keep himself from falling. His nightshirt was damp with sweat, sticking to his chest and back. The fever made everything feel distant, but the sight in front of him... Rowan on his knees, back torn open and bleeding... cut through the haze sharply.
He looked at his father calmly, even though anger burned inside him.
"I'm doing what I should," Noel said, voice rough from the fever but still steady. "Rowan is my guard. If anyone disciplines him, it should be me. Or I can choose not to."
Mr Hartwell stopped writing. He put his pen down slowly and looked up.
"Leave this room," he said, voice cold. "Now. Don't make me order it again."
Noel didn't step back. His legs shook under him, but he stayed where he was. His head throbbed from the infected cut but he blinked repeatedly to get rid of it.
"I'm not going," Noel said quietly.
Mr Hartwell sighed, long and tired, like Noel was a child throwing a tantrum.
"Guards," he said. "Take him back to his room. We're done."
The two guards moved forward. Noel pushed one away hard with his shoulder. Pain shot through his body, but he didn't care.
The other guard stopped, unsure of what was going on.
"I don't trust them," Noel said, breathing faster now. "And I don't trust you with him."
He walked past the guards and knelt next to Rowan.
Rowan kept his head down, hair dark with sweat and blood. His breathing was short and careful, like every inhale hurt.
Noel gently put an arm under Rowan's shoulder.
"Come on," he said softly. "Lean on me. We'll get out of here."
Rowan tried to speak. "Young Master—"
"Be quiet," Noel cut in. "You've said enough today."
He pulled Rowan up slowly. Rowan was heavy, taller and stronger, but right now he could barely stand. Noel took most of the weight, arms trembling, thanks to Rowan's weight.
His vision blurred for a second, but he blinked it away. Again.
Before they left, Noel looked back at his father one more time.
"I won't come to you again," he said. "And you won't touch Rowan. Ever."
Mr Hartwell stared at him, face hard.
Noel turned and helped Rowan out the door.
.
They moved slowly down the hallway.
Noel had one arm tight around Rowan's waist, Rowan leaning heavily on him. Every few steps, they had to stop so Noel could catch his breath.
The corridor seemed longer than usual.
After a minute, Noel stopped completely, leaning against the wall.
"Rowan," he said, face warm with embarrassment. "I know it's late but... which way is your room again?"
Rowan lifted one shaking hand and pointed left. "Servants' wing. End of the hall."
They turned into the narrower corridor with plain doors on both sides. Rowan's room was the last one.
Noel pushed the door open with his foot.
The room was small. A single narrow bed against one wall, a wooden chair, a tiny table with a washbasin. A folded blanket at the end of the bed. Nothing on the walls. No rug on the floor. Just basic and clean.
Noel looked around and felt his throat tighten.
'This is it? This is where Rowan sleeps every night?'
He helped Rowan sit on the bed carefully. Rowan made a small sound of pain when his back touched the mattress.
"Do you have bandages? Anything for the wounds?" Noel asked.
Rowan shook his head slightly. "No, my lord."
Noel sat down in the chair, breathing hard. The dizziness came back strong. He put a hand to his head.
Rowan watched him. "You shouldn't have come," he said quietly. "I'm all right. These will heal."
Noel looked at the small room again... the thin blanket, the empty table.
"It's better than nothing," Rowan added, guessing what Noel was thinking. "Better than growing up in the street."
That made it worse somehow.
"I'm sorry," Noel said. "For all of this. You didn't have to lie for me. I wouldn't have cared if he knew the truth about the mark."
Rowan looked serious. "You can't say things like that. Your position here is already bad. One wrong move, and he'll send you away."
Noel leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Maybe that wouldn't be terrible."
Rowan didn't answer.
Noel stood up slowly. "I'll send maids to clean your wounds and bring supplies. I... can't do much more right now."
Rowan nodded. "Thank you."
Noel left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
.
By the time Noel got back to his own bedroom, the fever had gotten worse.
The halls blurred as his steps dragged behind him. He fell onto the bed fully dressed in the robe, not even pulling the covers up.
Sleep took him fast.
While Noel lay unconscious, word had spread through the city. People heard about the fight in the market, about how he had saved the victims of kidnapping.
By afternoon, the gates of the Hartwell estate were crowded. Carriages are parked along the road. Nobles in fine clothes stood next to common families. Some held flowers, others small gifts... boxes of sweets, letters, jewellery.
A woman cried openly.
"My daughter was one of the ones taken. She's home because of him."
Another man held up a basket.
"We just want to thank the young master."
Guards kept everyone outside.
Mr Hartwell came to the gate himself. He accepted a few gifts with short nods, but his face stayed cold.
"Go home," he told the crowd. "Your thanks aren't needed here."
"But we wish to meet the young master."
"He's not able to meet anyone now. So leave!"
The people left slowly, disappointed.
.
.
At the Ashford estate, breakfast was loud and busy. Bennett sat at the table, leaning back in his chair, talking fast and waving his hands.
Arthur listened closely, coffee cup in hand.
"So he really fought them all?" Arthur asked.
"Everyone," Bennett said. "Took down most by himself. The last one needed help, but still... he didn't run."
"And he saved the others?"
"Of course! He should have run and left them but he let them escape first. Maybe he's not as bad as we thought."
Cedric sat farther down the table, eating slowly, not looking up. He wasn't interested at all in this matter.
Bennett pulled a photograph from his pocket and put it on the table.
"Look at this one."
Arthur picked it up.
It showed Noel in the square right after the fight, held tightly in Rowan's arms. Rowan's hands were on Noel's back and head, protective. Noel leaned into him.
Arthur stared at it.
"That's his guard," Arthur said. "The one he always complained about."
"Exactly," Bennett said. "And look... he's not pushing away."
Cedric spoke without looking up. "I already said I don't want to hear more about this."
Arthur kept looking at the photo.
"Maybe the game didn't scare him enough."
Bennett smiled. "Or maybe he liked it. There's only one way to find out and since I'm bored anyway, I'm going to find out more."
Arthur frowned. "What are you going to do? I heard Hartwell's head isn't letting anyone meet him."
"Oh! I see," Bennett said. "It was supposed to be a quick visit just to see how he's doing after his big fight. If the head doesn't let me in, I'll find another way."
Cedric put down his fork. "You're not going to break into their house, are you?"
Bennett stood up. "Oh! I never thought of it. That's a good idea, Ced."
Arthur sighed, glaring at him.
"Great! Cedric, thanks for that."
Cedric shrugged. "You're welcome."
Arthur looked at the photograph again. He held it tighter, crumpling the corner a little.
It bothered him... seeing someone else hold Noel like that. Not like he ever cared about him. He had been with many men before. Noel was just one face.
But this feeling that felt too tight in his chest was new.
Jealousy?
He set the photo down.
"This could be a problem," he said quietly.