My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 279: Living with a Dead Heart

Chapter 279: Living with a Dead Heart

For someone who loved sleeping enough to dedicate his life to it, Quinn hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in the past couple of days and he knew he was becoming volatile. Perhaps it was all the alcohol he drank the evening before. Although perhaps it was... something else.

His most distracting thoughts seemed to always be about the same person. The night before also played over and over in his mind.

Rather than dragging himself all the way to the mage’s quarter as he normally did, the mage decided to go to the guest room he was given before.

Quinn convinced himself that sleeping was the best medicine. With that in mind, he removed his robes, undershirt, and even his pants, finding the undershorts he wore underneath so much more comfortable for sleeping in.

The room was hot but it was what Quinn preferred. Since the maids knew he was often cold, they always kept the fire blazing. He wondered how much wood they had wasted on his behalf.

Despite his efforts, sleep didn’t come easy.

He didn’t even know if Stephano would remember what he had done which was for the best because Quinn wanted to push that down to the deepest annals of his memories. Unfortunately, it was hard to forget the taste of wine on the King’s tongue or the way he pulled him down on top of him.

As the thought plagued him, he touched his lips–ones that had never been kissed in such a way in his life.

He recalled the way they eventually stood up but it became an invitation for the King to treat him more aggressively.

Quinn remembered his kissing being surprisingly adept. It was the kissing of someone who certainly was called a womanizer. He wondered if Stephano had to play it up before to prove people correct and get them off of his case.

The night before, it wasn’t until Quinn realized Stephano was swaying that he decided they ought to go to sleep. They moved to his loft and got comfortable. He recalled the monarch pulling him closer just before falling asleep.

He cuddled him while he slept which was why Quinn didn’t get an ounce of sleep. His heart wouldn’t stop racing. He felt hopelessly complete and much more miserable at the same time.

If Stephano remembered, it was going to be the biggest drunk mistake of his life.

The thought gave him palpable pain. How was he supposed to carry that information around by himself? He didn’t want to be burdened alone as he had been for so many years.

Quinn’s eyes were so heavy but sleep didn’t come to him. In a fuss, the mage stood up and stalked to the window. He shut the curtains roughly, blaming that for being the reason he couldn’t sleep.

As he stood there, staring angrily at the curtains that still allowed three lines of bright morning light into his room, he jumped when a sharp knock was heard at his door. Whoever it was didn’t wait for his answer and he was taken aback as they came right into his room.

He looked down at his thin body, only covered in undershorts and he felt immediately embarrassed. It only became worse when he heard the King’s voice.

"Why in the hell would you volunteer yourself for something so dangerous?"

The monarch’s golden eyes drifted down as if only realizing the mage was mostly undressed and he had to pull his gaze away. It wasn’t the time for him to notice that. He was angry and wanted answers.

Quinn sped towards an armoire that carried various items and he found a light brown robe that would cover what he needed it to at that moment. He also found slippers, deciding the talk might take longer than he wanted.

When he turned back around, Stephano had taken a seat on one of the cushioned armchairs next to the fire. They both were naturally cold people.

Yet the King felt so warm the night before.

Quinn shook the thought off and kept his distance.

"I believe I can be useful," Quinn said. "Why should I stay here and do nothing when Sir Cian has expressed that the lack of mages in the south has been a detriment to their society? They’re creating magical weapons with little experience, not knowing how deadly mana can be if used improperly. I can also block magical attacks if it gets to that point."

"Why you?" Stephano snapped. "There are gifted mages all over Castille. Plenty of them don’t look Castillian."

Quinn paused and his eyes widened at the monarch. He wanted to tell him everything but nothing would leave his lips except for an excuse.

"Perhaps if I left this place, I would finally be able to appreciate it," Quinn responded cryptically.

Ever since he stepped foot in the palace on his very first day as the Royal Family’s mage, he had been miserable. There were thousands of mages out there who could only dream of reaching such a high, well-paying position on their mana alone yet he reached it.

However, he couldn’t be happy about it because, from the moment he saw the King and realized his selfish heart had not changed, the palace became his prison. He couldn’t appreciate it even if he should.

If he left for a while to do something with such high stakes, perhaps he would realize just how good he had it. He would realize that as close he was to the King was close enough. It was better than the nothing he had before.

"How is that fair?" Stephano uttered and he looked into the fire for a long time.

Quinn stood there miserably, staring at Stephano as the fire lit up half of his face and his already fiery hair. He was the most beautiful and unique-looking man he had ever seen. There were people throughout the kingdom with red hair but none that had such a look as the Royal Family.

He was the only direct royal left. No one else was like him.

"What are you talking about, Your Highness?"

With that, Stephano stood up, feeling like he had imposed. If Quinn could act as if the night before didn’t happen, perhaps it was his turn to do the same.

He was battling conflicting thoughts and had no one else to go to. He couldn’t very well knock on Leonor’s door and tell her that he kissed a man. She wanted them to figure it out, but he was certain it wasn’t by ruining their friendship with such a drunken mistake.

It had been a long time since he drank like that. The pressure of the situation got to him and he made a mistake.

"That God damned title," Stephano snapped quietly, cursing that he was the King. "I see that I was the only one still thinking about what you said to me. I clearly need sleep so I can adequately prepare the three of you for the journey ahead. Forget I came here."

Quinn knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t ask for more. He rushed towards Stephano and blocked his path.

"What do you want me to say?" Quinn asked desperately. "We were both drunk. I shouldn’t have burdened you with something like that."

"Does it make it less true?" Stephano asked.

Stephano was showing such hurt thinly veiled under anger, Quinn didn’t know what he should do.

The King acted as if it was his secret while it was Quinn’s and something he had been hiding for years. It had haunted him for years.

"How am I supposed to ruin our friendship like this?" Quinn responded with a question of his own. "I was hiding it for such a long time. I thought I could do this forever..."

They both seemed on edge, wanting to say something more but not knowing how to go forward.

"You will always be my friend," Stephano finally responded, his voice taking on a desperate edge to it.

"But I don’t know if I can be happy like that any longer," Quinn admitted. "I’m so disgusted with myself. I need to leave here for a while and perhaps I’ll realize what I have now is more than enough for me. You don’t feel anything for–"

However, Stephano had to put a stop to it before Quinn could say anything further.

"Please let me explain myself, Quinn," Stephano pleaded with the man.

The monarch reached his hand out, wanting to touch Quinn but he abruptly pulled it back as if he was reaching for a flame. He felt sensitive about what they had done before.

Quinn’s head felt warm and he gestured for the other man to continue.

"I have never felt romantic love towards anyone," Stephano admitted. "I often feel as if my heart died with my mother because she was the last person I know for certain I loved. Yet..."

Stephano’s hand brushed through his fiery hair. He was uncomfortable.

"I can’t stop thinking about what happened," he admitted. "When I saw you with Cian yet again, I thought I was going to slice his head clean off of his shoulders with the very sword he’s going to protect Desmond with on the way to Eirenguard. Now I have to accept that he’s going to be protecting you, too."

Quinn’s face twisted into a small frown and his eyebrows lowered.

"I can’t get my hopes up," he admitted. "I’m too old to feel like that anymore."

"I am so confused," Stephano uttered. "I need to clear my head."

"Of course," Quinn said.

They both walked to the door intending to let Stephano leave and do all that was required since plans had changed drastically.

Except, even with his hand on the doorknob, the King didn’t leave.

"I want you to keep your hopes up," the King suddenly said. "I want you to hope that I will feel the same way as you."

He turned around abruptly and Quinn was much closer than expected. He dared reach for one of the other man’s hands.

"Convince me," Stephano uttered. "Leave me with something that makes it impossible to get you out of my head while you’re gone."

Quinn pointedly locked the door.