Lia gasped, but he hadn't moved. He didn't even order the men to stop.
Did he give the order? Why did he always watch people get punished without saying a word?
Each second reminded her of that day, how helpless she was. How the men had killed Anna.
"Take me out of here" Lia's voice cracked.
Bati didn't ask questions. She simply nodded and started walking out. Lia followed. She looked up at him one more time, he was still watching her.
His eyes followed her until she was no longer in sight.
Lia left the punishment ground even more terrified.
But she didn't understand why he always stared at her like that.
It was exactly how he stared at her on that day too.
"Is he always cruel?" She asked.
Bati didn't answer right away. "He's always him" she finally mumbled.
Lia walked back into her room, disappointed.
She had spent all day walking around the palace, looking for a hint.
Anything that could explain this place better, or give a clue where Tomie was.
But nothing.
She climbed on the bed, frustrated.
She was finally free to move around, but somehow it didn't feel like freedom at all.
She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Memories started flooding in.
The night refused to sleep.
Lia tossed beneath the sheets, her body sore, her mind unraveling.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Anna's last breath.
Saw the blood soak her friend's dress.
Heard the cruel laughter from the crowd.
She clutched the blanket tighter, curling into herself.
Her ankle ached less, but her chest... her chest felt crushed.
She felt like she was suffocating. The room was hot. Too hot.
She tried to breathe, but it felt like she was drowning all over again.
"Air… Air" she mumbled.
She couldn't stay in this room. She needed to breathe.
Without a second thought, she sat up.
The silk sheets slid off her shoulders.
The lanterns were still lit, though dimmed.
She didn't bother changing. She only wanted to sit at the balcony.
Her head ached as she walked barefoot to the door, limping a little, careful with every step.
Her hand touched the knob.
It wasn't locked.
She turned it slowly, cracked the door open just enough to peek through.
The hallway outside was quiet, candles and lights lit up on every stand.
No one was in sight. Not even the guard that usually stood here.
Her heart pounded.
She knew she shouldn't leave her room, especially not now, not at this time.
But she needed air. She wasn't running away. She only needed to breathe.
She might suffocate inside.
Lia stepped out. Quiet. Limping forward.
She turned a corner and there it was.
An open doorway leading to a stone balcony.
A soft breeze whispered through it.
She gasped, taking in all the air she could as she rushed forward, heart pounding.
And stepped outside.
The night air wrapped around her like a balm, cool and dry, with the faint scent of incense and sand.
She inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut.
For the first time in days, her chest didn't feel like it was caving in.
She gripped the edge of the balcony.
Her tears slipped out again, but this time, they weren't from fear.
They were from grief.
From exhaustion.
From the silent scream she'd been holding in since the auction.
She leaned on the edge, letting the wind kiss her face.
Her ankle burned from walking not too gently, but she ignored it.
That's when she heard it.
Footsteps. Boots matching, loud and fast.
Then a harsh voice, sharp, angry. "Hey! What are you doing out here?!"
Lia turned, startled.
Two guards stormed around the corner, swords strapped to their backs, beads rattling at their wrists.
"I..." she stammered. "I just needed air. I'm..."
"You're not allowed out of your quarters!" one barked.
"I'm sorry. Please..." she tried to explain, backing up. "I wasn't trying to run. I swear..."
The second guard grabbed her arm roughly.
Pain shot through her.
"Let me go!" she cried, trying to yank away.
"She's trying to escape" the first said. "Let's take her back."
"I'm not!" she shouted, breath shaking. "Please, I just..."
The slap came fast.
A sharp, open-handed blow across her cheek.
The sound cracked in the night air.
Her head whipped to the side, hair falling over her eyes.
She staggered back, collapsing against the wall.
Her ankle folded beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor.
Her breath caught.
Pain bloomed across her face and down her leg.
The guards towered above her.
They grabbed her again, roughly, one on each arm.
Their nails dug into her skin. She winced in pain, but she was too weak to resist.
Her head pounded from the heavy slap. Her lips throbbed.
A cut? Maybe.
They dragged her like a sacrificial lamb out of the balcony.
Not to her room.
Not even to the middle wing.
Somewhere toward the stairs.
The ones that led to the garden.
To the punishment ground.
Was that where they were taking her?
Suddenly, sharp footsteps approached, like someone was walking up the stairs, meeting them halfway.
Slower. Heavier. Measured.
The figure formed clearly as he walked closer.
Dawson.
He emerged from the shadows at the far end of the stair hallway, dressed in dark robes.
His face unreadable.
He furrowed when he saw them.
Lia's heart pounded.
Fear crawled up her throat.
Her stomach twisted.
She would have died in that room than face him like this...
His eyes locked on Lia, then flicked to the guards.
The men straightened immediately.
"Master" one greeted, tone and body stiff.
"What happened?" Dawson's voice was quiet.
"She was outside her quarters, my Lord. Alone. Unwatched. It's against your orders."
Dawson said nothing at first.
He looked down at Lia.
She sat crumpled on the ground, one cheek red and swelling.
Her hair hung over her face.
Her breathing... sharp and uneven.
She couldn't look up. Could barely speak.
He crouched down, examining her face. His hand touched her lips softly.
Lia winced.
"Did you hit her?" he asked quietly.
But his voice held more danger than volume.
The guards faltered, looking at each other, panic written across their faces.
He slowly stood up, turning calmly to the guards.
"Who among you hit her?"
The other guard quickly pointed to the one who had struck Lia.
Dawson's gaze fell on him and the man panicked.
Sweat formed on his forehead.
His throat burned.
"She... She was trying to... to escape" he stuttered.
Dawson nodded once.
Then, without warning, his hand snapped up.
The guard who struck Lia was yanked forward by two of Dawson's own men, who had followed him in silence.
Dawson stepped toward the guard, face still calm.
Then he slammed his fist into the man's throat.
The guard choked, gasped, and dropped to his knees.
Dawson grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him down the steps with the ease of lifting a sack of flour.
The other guard stood frozen, pale.
"You strike what's mine without my command?" Dawson's voice stayed level. Cold.
"Who gave you that right?"
The man on the floor coughed, trying to speak.
Dawson didn't wait.
He raised his hand, and one of his own guards handed him a dagger.
Lia's breath caught.
"No please..." she cried out, not even sure why.
Was it fear? Pity? Confusion?
Dawson turned toward her slowly.
His eyes pinned her in place.
But the blade didn't move toward her.
It slammed straight into the arm of the man who had hit her.
A scream tore through the corridor.
Blood splattered across the stone.
Dawson leaned in, his voice calm.
"Touch her again, and you lose more than a hand."
He yanked the blade free.
Then tossed it onto the ground like it was worthless.
The wounded man sobbed, cradling his arm, blood pouring onto the floor.
Dawson turned away from him.
His robe unbothered.
His hands barely stained.
He walked to Lia.
Kneeled in front of her.
She flinched as he reached out but he didn't strike her.
Instead, he gently lifted her chin.
Her skin burned from the earlier slap.
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
"I give you silk" he said softly. "Food. Safety. And still, you disobey me."
"I just needed air" she whispered, voice cracking. "I couldn't breathe..."
"Why did you try to run?" he questioned.
She swallowed. Her body frozen.
"I didn't mean to run" she said. "I swear it. I wasn't..."
He studied her face.
His thumb brushed against her cheek where the redness bloomed.
His eyes didn't soften.
But something in his jaw shifted, like a decision had been made.
Then, without a word, he reached down and lifted her into his arms.
She tensed in his arms, heart racing, but said nothing.
She didn't dare move. Didn't dare speak.
He lifted her like she weighed nothing.
And she hated how safe it felt, for just one second.