The castle was too quiet.
Not the comforting kind of quiet—this one made her skin crawl. The walls were too high. The halls too clean. And the silence... almost alive.
Elena kept her head low as the servant led her deeper inside, her feet barely making a sound against the polished marble. She still felt the heat of Vivian's glare on her back.
She called me a pet...
He didn't correct her.
Her heart thudded in her chest, loud against the hush.
She didn't know what to make of him—Darius.
He hadn't hurt her. Hadn't touched her. Had barely looked at her after the auction. But when he had… those eyes—
They weren't human.
She'd only caught them for a moment before they changed again. A trick of the light, maybe. Or maybe not.
The servant stopped outside a grand double door.
"This is your room," she said curtly, then added, "You're to stay here unless summoned."
Elena nodded, keeping her eyes down. She stepped inside as the door shut behind her with a click that sounded far too much like a lock.
The room was… beautiful.
Too beautiful.
The bed was massive, its canopy trailing silver threads. A fireplace crackled softly, casting golden light across the stone. Dresses—real dresses, the kind she'd only seen on noblewomen—hung in an open wardrobe. Everything smelled like jasmine and smoke.
She didn't belong here.
And she knew it.
Elena stepped to the window, but heavy drapes blocked the view. She reached out, tugging the fabric aside.
It was night.
Of course it was night.
Her fingers tightened around the curtain as a strange unease crept in.
Something about this place—the way people looked at Darius. The way they looked at her.
Like she was a threat.
Or something worse.
She pressed her forehead to the cold glass, her breath fogging the pane.
Why me? Why did he pay that much for me?
She didn't believe in fairy tales. She knew what happened to girls like her.
She'd seen it in the holding cages. Felt it in every man's hungry stare. The only difference now was her cage had velvet sheets and gold trim.
But it was still a cage.
---
She woke to the soft rustle of wind outside the tall window.
The fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the ornate room. Her body ached from the strange softness of the bed—too clean, too unfamiliar. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and that's when she saw it.
A slip of parchment, folded neatly, resting on the ornate dresser.
She hadn't noticed it the night before.
Her heart skipped.
No one had entered. She would've heard.
With hesitant fingers, she picked it up.
The handwriting was messy, rushed—but hers. She knew it instantly.
Liam.
> Elena,
I don't have much time. I'm alive. I managed to escape the guards after they dragged you away. I don't know where they've taken you, but I'll find out. I swear to you, I'll find you.
I should've fought harder. I should've done more. I love you.
Wait for me.
—Liam
Her fingers trembled as she read it again.
He was alive. He hadn't forgotten her. She wasn't alone.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she pressed the letter to her chest.
She didn't know how it had gotten there. Maybe a kind soul in the castle. Maybe Liam had bribed someone.
But it didn't matter.
He was out there.
A sharp knock jolted her from her thoughts.
Before she could respond, the door opened. The same maid from yesterday stepped in, bowing slightly.
"His Grace summons you. Immediately."
Elena froze, slipping the letter into the folds of her dress, her fingers still shaky.
"He wants to see me?"
The maid said nothing else, only waited.
Elena followed in silence, her thoughts racing.
Was it coincidence? Or did he somehow know?
As they reached the top of the winding staircase, her breath caught.
Darius stood below, hands clasped behind his back, silver-streaked hair glowing faintly under the chandelier's light. His eyes, calm and unreadable, lifted to hers the moment she appeared.
He said nothing.
But she could feel it—he noticed something.
And suddenly, the letter burned against her skin like a secret too loud.