Alora slowly opened her eyes.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was.
The room was unfamiliar yet strangely comfortable. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain travelled through her head, forcing her to wince. Her clothes had been changed, and the coolness around her forehead told her someone had used cold water to ease the fever.
Before she could make sense of anything, the door opened, and two maids entered.
"Good morning, ma'am," they greeted together.
"Please, don't get up. You need to rest," one of them said quickly.
Alora tried to protest, but her head suddenly spun. The maids immediately supported her and gently lowered her back onto the bed.
"Easy, ma'am."
The room slowly blurred, and then everything went black again.
When Alora opened her eyes a second time, she felt slightly better. The two maids were still beside her, watching her carefully.
"Call the healer," one of them instructed the guard standing outside.
Alora remained quiet, taking in her surroundings.
The room was enormous compared to the small space she shared with her family. Heavy curtains framed the tall windows, while soft carpets covered parts of the polished hardwood floor. The furniture was made from dark, expensive wood, with intricate carvings along the edges. A large wardrobe stood against one wall, beside a dressing table decorated with a silver mirror and several little ornaments.
Then there was the bed.
It was huge, with thick white sheets, several soft pillows, and a blanket so smooth that Alora almost felt guilty touching it.
She had spent most of her life sleeping on a simple mat. This kind of comfort felt almost unreal.
The memory of her childhood briefly crossed her mind, and for a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling.
Soon, the healer arrived.
He approached the bed, placed the back of his hand against her forehead, and carefully checked her pulse.
"Your fever has gone down," he said. "But you still need plenty of rest. Don't walk around too much."
"Where am I?" Alora finally asked.
The healer hesitated for a moment before answering.
"You are safe. That's what matters for now."
He gathered his things and left.
Alora frowned.
*That wasn't an answer.*
The maids helped her into the bath.
The tub was already filled with warm water, and a pleasant scent filled the room as scented oils floated across the surface. One maid carefully supported her while the other washed her hair and gently cleaned her skin.
The warmth relaxed her aching muscles.
For the first time since Herbert attacked her, she felt safe enough to breathe properly.
But she still couldn't stop wondering where she was.
Then, the memory returned, the man she had collided with, those familiar features. The strong arms that caught her.
Alora's eyes widened.
"No..."
She already knew where she was.
After the bath, the maids dried her, combed her hair, and dressed her in a clean gown.
When Alora finally looked into the mirror, she barely recognized herself.
Her hair had been neatly brushed and pinned back, her skin looked softer from the bath, and the simple but elegant dress made her look almost like a noblewoman.
She touched the fabric. "This..."
One of the maids smiled, "You look beautiful, ma'am."
Alora covered her mouth in surprise, "Thank you."
But the moment passed quickly, and her thoughts returned to home.
Mum, then William.
Her heart tightened.
"Are they alright?" she asked suddenly. "Does my mother know where I am?"
The maids exchanged a quick glance.
Alora noticed, "Please," she pressed. "I need to know."
One of them smiled reassuringly, "I'm sure everything will be alright. For now, you need to recover."
It wasn't the answer she wanted. Still, she decided not to push them.
Later, Alora stepped into the hallway.
The passage seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions. Tall windows allowed the fading afternoon light to spill across the polished floor, while large portraits hung between them in elaborate golden frames. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their crystals catching the candlelight and scattering tiny reflections across the walls.
Everything looked expensive.
Everything looked like it belonged to another world.
Alora walked slowly, afraid that touching something might somehow cost more than her entire family's savings.
The maids guided her through the unfamiliar corridors, but by the time they reached the main hall, evening had begun to settle.
Servants moved around lighting candles one after another. The warm flames illuminated the enormous room, but Alora's headache returned, making it difficult to see clearly.
She eventually decided to return to her room.
The following morning, her head felt much lighter. The healer examined her again, and the maids helped her bathe and dress.
This time, Alora felt strong enough to explore properly.
She stepped into the hallway again. As she walked, something caught her attention.
A large portrait.
She stopped.
It was Duncan.
He stood tall and commanding in the painting, dressed in a deep red embroidered coat decorated with intricate gold patterns. Royal-looking jewellery rested against his chest, while one hand held the hilt of a sword.
His posture was proud, almost regal.
The painter had captured the sharpness of his features perfectly, but there was something else in his expression-a quiet authority that made him look like someone born to command.
Alora stared at the painting for several seconds.
"He could pass for a king," she murmured.
"Alora?"
She turned quickly.
An older woman stood several steps behind her.
Her dark-grey hair was neatly arranged, and although age had left a few fine lines around her eyes, her face still carried a gentle elegance. There was something familiar about her features.
She looked worried.
"Are you feeling better, child?" the woman asked.
Alora immediately bowed. "Yes, my lady. I'm feeling much better. I was only looking around."
The woman's eyes lingered on her.
Not rudely.
Not suspiciously.
Almost as if she were searching Alora's face for something. Her expression changed for the briefest moment.
Alora noticed it and she didn't understand it. Yet strangely, she didn't feel threatened.
"I'm glad," the woman finally said. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"Yes, my lady." Alora bowed again.
The woman smiled faintly before walking away.
Alora continued down the hallway, but after a few steps, she glanced back. The woman had done the same, their eyes met.
The older woman quickly looked away and continued walking.
Alora frowned.
"Why was she looking at me like that?"
She eventually returned to her room and closed the door behind her. Only then did she breathe properly.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
"When am I going home?"
She missed her mother and William. She even missed the familiar noise of the grocery shop.
But more than anything, she wanted to understand why she had been brought here.
_____
By afternoon, the walls of the room began to feel suffocating.
Alora finally stepped outside and wandered toward the garden. The moment she saw it, she stopped.
"Beautiful."
The garden stretched across a wide section of the mansion grounds, filled with neatly trimmed hedges, colourful flowers, and stone pathways. A small fountain stood in the centre, its gentle sound mixing with the breeze moving through the trees.
Alora sat on a bench.
For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine another life.
"What if I lived here?" She looked around. "What if I married Lord Duncan?"
Her imagination ran wild, and then people would call her Lady Alora.
She would have beautiful clothes, servants, and a comfortable home. Most importantly, she could give her mother and William the kind of life they had never been able to afford.
A smile appeared on her lips, and then reality returned.
"It can't happen," she whispered.
Duncan could never marry someone like her. She was a commoner, and he was a noble.
The difference between their worlds was too wide.
Her smile faded. She had been here for two days now.
Two whole days, and yet...
"Where is Duncan?"