Elias blinked. "Posh?"
"Yeah. You know—fancy." She rolled her eyes, then groaned. "Ugh! Listen, I live in apartment 2B, number 3, St. Mark's Place… in New York City. New York. As in America. As in the land of Starbucks and overpriced rent."
"New York City?" he echoed.
She nodded, growing more agitated. "Yes. The city that never sleeps."
Elias looked away from her for a second, gazing at the chapel. "This is not… New York City," he said carefully. "This is Terra Lucida."
"Terra what-now?"
"Terra Lucida. The Kingdom of Light. You're standing in one of its provinces."
Lyra stared at him, blinked twice, then leaned slightly out the carriage window and slapped her cheeks. Once. Twice.
Elias frowned. "Are you trying to injure yourself?"
"No. I'm trying to wake up from this acid trip of a dream I must be having." She turned back to him. "Any second now I'll be back in my bed, drooling on my pillow, and this will all be a weird episode inspired by too much lasagna and that one binge of Outlander."
"You are not dreaming, Lyra Beckham of New York," he said with a strange softness, her full name sounding almost reverent in his mouth. "There are two options I think are at work here."
"What? Please… I need something that makes sense," Lyra said. Her eyes darted around the carriage as if somewhere out the window a billboard might magically appear explaining everything. "I mean, did I take a wrong turn at Albuquerque? Because I'm pretty sure I haven't had that many margaritas."
Elias leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his storm-gray eyes sharpening with concern. "This is either the work of magic… or you are definitely crazy."
Lyra snorted, raising a hand. "Both options are equally crazy. So yeah, I guess I'm screwed either way."
Elias let out a short, amused breath, but his voice softened. "We need to figure this out. When we get back to my estate, you'll tell me, in detail, the last thing you remember before waking up covered in leaves and bird droppings."
Lyra groaned, slumping back against the carriage's plush seat, pulling the oversized shirt a little lower to cover her thighs. "Detailed? You want details? Like the exact moment my ex dumped me for a stripper?"
"Maybe start with the part after that," Elias replied, amusement tinting his voice.
"Fine. But I'm warning you—this is a hot mess even by my standards."
*****
By the time they arrived at Elias's estate, the rhythmic clopping of the horses had become a lullaby, and Lyra was out cold.
But that wasn't what caught Elias off guard.
It was the way her head lolled against his shoulder, mouth slightly ajar, and snoring with the enthusiasm of a chainsaw. No wonder her ex dumped her.
And if that weren't enough, a tiny bead of drool wobbled on the edge of her lip, threatening to betray her dignity.
"Really?" he muttered under his breath, torn between irritation and an undeniable flicker of tenderness.
It was simultaneously annoying and cute.
Carefully, as if she might shatter into a million pieces if moved too roughly, Elias scooped her up in his arms. She shifted slightly but didn't wake, the faint scent of bird poop mingling with her natural, faintly sweet scent.
The carriage came to a halt, and Elias climbed out with practiced ease, cradling Lyra against his chest. Her soft, steady breathing was almost hypnotic.
He glanced down at her, half expecting her to wake and yell at him for invading her personal space—but no, the only response was another soft snore.
The grand doors of his mansion swung open before he could even reach them, as if on cue. His butler, Thadeus, was already waiting, impeccably dressed.
"Your highness," Thaddeus gasped, his usual calm demeanor shattered as he caught sight of the lady cradled gently in Elias's arms. His eyes went wide, as if witnessing a ghost.
Elias, ever the picture of calm regal composure, paid him no mind and continued his slow, deliberate stroll up the grand staircase. Each step echoed through the mansion's marble halls. The weight of the mystery—and the woman—in his arms pressed against his chest, an unexpected heaviness he didn't quite know what to do with.
He reached his bedroom. Gently, he lowered her onto the soft bedspread, careful not to jostle her too much. She shifted slightly, a faint pout curling her lips as she smacked them and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a foreign language—or maybe just nonsense.
Elias chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead. "Whatever you're saying, Lyra, I'm sure it's hilarious."
But she remained lost in sleep, vulnerable and fragile in a way that made heart hesitate.
He turned to leave, and there was Thaddeus, waiting.
"You couldn't wait five minutes, could you?" Elias raised one elegant eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Thaddeus threw up his hands dramatically. "Your highness, I'm simply trying to wrap my mind around this. How on Terra Lucida is it that Miss Lirae is alive?"
Elias sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "She isn't Lirae. At least, not the one we knew. I'm still trying to figure out who she really is."
Thaddeus's mouth fell open in shock, a faint gasp escaping. "My God! The resemblance… It's uncanny."
"Exactly," Elias nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Which is why, for now, no one can know she's here. If the others see her, they'll think its Lirae and, well… we don't want to repeat that nightmare."
"Oh yes, your highness. Shall I prepare a room for her?"
Elias rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his usual stoic mask. "Yes, please. But don't move her until she wakes up. I think she's been through quite the ordeal—or she's just plain crazy. Honestly, sometimes it's hard to tell which is worse."
Just then, a loud, unmistakable fart erupted from the room, echoing with a tragic finality through the quiet mansion hallway. Elias's shoulders sagged in defeat, his perfectly composed façade crumbling for a moment. He let out a long, slow sigh as if the universe itself was conspiring against him.