Elias and Lyra sat hunched over a massive oak table in the study, surrounded by teetering stacks of books on The Great Purge—most of which had the audacity to be the size of bricks and still come printed in font so tiny it could legally be considered an act of aggression.
"I swear, these scribes hated the idea of people reading comfortably," Lyra muttered, holding her forehead as she squinted at the archaic script. "Why is this even a font?"
Across from her, Elias calmly flipped through a worn volume using a brass-handled magnifying glass. "You're going to get a headache," he pointed out, not even glancing up.
"No shit, Sherlock," Lyra snapped, rubbing her temples. "Do the words have to be so tiny? I feel like I'm being punished."
Elias smirked, unbothered. "Take a break. You're getting quite testy."
"I'm not testy," she replied in a tone that was the dictionary definition of testy. "I'm aggressively invested in not letting my eyeballs implode, thank you very much."
Just then, the door creaked open and Thaddeus stepped in.
"Your Highness," he began. "Marchioness Gemma has arrived."
"Oh Lord!" he gasped, suddenly springing into motion. He started scooping books off the table at record speed.
"Hide the books! She can't see what we've been researching."
Thaddeus, clearly enjoying himself, folded his arms with a satisfied smile. "Take your time, my lord. I sent her carriage to the farthest end of the castle."
"If I could love a man, Thaddeus…" Elias began, dramatically clutching his chest. "I'd marry you,"
"You guys need therapy," Lyra muttered, pushing back from the table. "I'll be in my room in the meantime. We don't want Marchy Gem accidentally pushing my buttons."
"Why would she push your buttons?" Thaddeus asked with an entirely innocent look.
Lyra stopped mid-step and slowly turned to him, her eyes narrowed to slits. "It's an expression, Thaddeus," she said. She stepped around him.
Thaddeus turned helplessly to Elias, brows drawn.
Elias just shrugged and leaned back in his chair, a resigned smile tugging at his lips. "I've given up trying to understand her."
Moments later, the door swung open.
The woman strode in and wasted no time launching into her complaint. "It is time you think of replacing your butler," she announced. "He is the most disorganized man I have had the misfortune of encountering. I had to walk all the way back to the house, Elias."
Elias gave her a practiced diplomatic smile. "I apologise, Marchioness. Thaddeus is indeed getting on in age, but I wouldn't trade him for the most capable butler. His loyalty is rare."
"Loyalty is a nice quality in a dog," she snapped, though she sat when he gestured.
Gemma took her seat in a huff. Elias couldn't help but note how she still looked flawless, not a hair out of place.
"What can I do for you?" Elias asked evenly, though inwardly he was already hoping this would be over quickly and quietly.
"Don't be so formal with me, Elias," she said with a tight smile. "I was to be your betrothed."
Elias exhaled softly through his nose, trying to maintain composure. "My lady, I made that promise when I believed Lady Lirae was never going to return," he began.
"She was my betrothed," he continued, "and now that she is back, we will continue our courting. I thought you would have understood that."
Gemma's eyes flared, just slightly, but enough to signal danger ahead. "And you think I should just smile and step aside?" she asked.
"No," Elias said carefully, "I think you deserve honesty. And perhaps someone who doesn't see another woman every time he looks at you."
"But I told my father we were already courting," Gemma snapped.
Elias arched an eyebrow. "Then I suppose you'll have to tell him you lied," he said. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer I write him a letter myself, explaining the mix-up."
"So that's it?" she hissed.
Elias let out a dry laugh. "What exactly do you want me to say? 'Sorry for not proposing to the woman I don't love'? Should I host a ball in your honour for surviving a minor heartbreak?"
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. "What is it she has?" Gemma demanded. "A woman with no title, no heritage. She has nothing to her name. She has no family. No background. She merely appeared here years ago and you all welcomed her!"
"Look what she's done to you. Your image. Your reputation. You've gone from noble to… whipped."
Elias' jaw ticked. "You forget one thing, Marchioness. Love doesn't ask why. I love Lirae. I always will."
That sentence—truth and lie tangled into one—left a hollow pang in his chest. The woman he loved was Lirae not Lyra. But it didn't make the words any less true.
Gemma scoffed, furious now. "If you love her so much, why aren't you married already?" she demanded. "What are you waiting for? I think she has some kind of hold on you. Something's wrong with this picture, Elias, and I intend to find out what."
"Marchioness," he said, "Lady Lirae is my betrothed. She will be respected. And she will be honoured."
"That's all she will ever be," Gemma said with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "She brings nothing to the table. No title. No wealth. No power. All she will ever have is you. Without you, she is nothing. And even then, she's dragging you down into the slums with her."
"You were once a prince, the crowned prince, Elias. The envy of every noble household. And now?" She scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her painted lips. "Now, you are a Lord. A Lord, Elias. Granted permission to live in his own kingdom. You walk the halls of the palace like a guest who overstayed his welcome."
Elias sat motionless for a beat, then leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. There was a fire in his eyes. "And yet," he said calmly, "I sleep better at night."
(Will Be Continued On GoodNovel)