Lyra's POV
The room went quiet after he left, leaving me to my thoughts, and it was one hell of a company, except every conversation was going on in my head rather than out of it.
Why was he keen on divorcing his wife? Why did he hate her so much?
I touched my neck, feeling the dried patch on my skin, where his blade had slightly cut, while my gaze drifted to the drawer. The one he had shoved the divorce papers into.
I wanted that freedom. I needed to be free to find Elias, and make sure Adrian paid for what he did to me. This was a second chance to get my revenge. I don't fancy wasting it on being a wife to a man who hated the very word.
But I couldn't sign it yet. Not until I understood the full extent of the cage I had woken up in. Was Alpha Kaelen Drax the victim or the villain, or was it Leila? I had no business with that information. But I needed to know. Unresolved issues like these could come back to haunt me later, especially when I might have to wear her body for the rest of my life.
I swung my legs off the bed slowly, ignoring the faint ache that still lingered in my body. My steps were careful as I crossed the room, stopping just in front of the vanity table.
My fingers itched, the urge to pull the papers out and sign them breathed wild in me. It took every ounce of willpower to take my hand off the draw. I folded my fingers tight, my knuckles white, as I lifted it to my face.
I stared at the mirror, at the emerald eyes staring back at me, the silky waves of the ash blond hair spilling to my shoulders, when a gentle knock against the door barreled into my thoughts.
"My Queen… May we come in?" A soft, feminine voice asked.
I glanced at the door. Maids. "Come on in" I said.
The door opened, and a group of maids poured in with their heads bowed low. Some had their hands full with fabrics, others with jewelry or cosmetics. They all seemed to carry something.
Slowly, their heads lifted to me, cautious and curious. Their eyes were static, like they were in a state of pre-shock. Like they were waiting for an excuse to be startled.
The fear I glimpsed in the faces told me enough about Leila.
I wanted to act along and play the bad witch as the avatar demanded, but my conscience couldn't take that in the long run.
I smiled at the maids. I could always excuse the change in my behavior to the amnesia I lied to Kaelen about.
Still, my smile didn't ease the quiet tension. "His Majesty has ordered that we prepare you for the celebration tonight." One of them said carefully.
It was a miracle she kept her voice steady, given how hard her body and hands shook under the fabrics she carried with her.
I powered up the wattage of my smile. "Then don't waste time, ladies," I said, and I took my seat before the mirror.
They swarmed me instantly. I tried to relax under their touch and guidance, refusing to give them an excuse for their hands to tremble more or for the naked fear in their eyes to grow.
Though they were terrified of me, they did their work cleanly, moving fast and efficiently. Layers of fabrics were brought out—rich, heavy, and regal. The fabric they finally chose for me had deep shades designed to cling to the body like a second skin. And at the hem, and edges, were gold-threaded details that shone against the soft lighting of the room.
"Please lift your arm, my Queen" A maid said in a shaky voice. I obeyed and smiled at her terrified face through the mirror, while she slid the fabric into place on my body.
They were about to style my hair when another knock grated on the door again, louder, stronger; it rang through the whole room.
The knocker didn't even wait to be acknowledged. He booted himself in.
The man approaching the table had a vague resemblance to the face I was staring at in the mirror—he was likely Leila's infamous brother, Elder Eli.
For some reason, his presence in the room didn't ease the tension. It only escalated it. If the maids were trembling before, now they vibrated, eyes dancing with more terror than I ever thought possible in the eyes of any person.
"Leave, you all," Elder Eli said, voice calm and commanding. "Leave us"
His words had barely landed when the maids chanted "Yes Elder Eli" they dropped everything and hurried out of the room like they'd been chased by a predator.
Silence crept into the room at their departure, a silence that grew heavier the more it lingered. I refused to turn and kept my gaze on the mirror instead. To play it safe, he had to be the one to make the first move, not me.
Eli remained where he was, tall, composed, his expression shifting as our eyes met through the mirror.
"Leila…" he breathed.
There was something off about him that I couldn't pin down completely. The love and concern in his voice sounded a little bit false. It sounded like the kind of voice I have seen my doctor colleagues use to mimic sympathy.
Before I could react, he crossed the room fast and pulled me into an embrace. He lifted me from the seat. "I knew you'd wake up, Liela." He cried, voice thick with emotion. "I knew you'd wake. I never gave up on you."
I stayed still in his arms, unmoving. Something was missing in his hug, something like genuine warmth. I wouldn't call this all a performance, but it looked a little bit like it.
My hands hovered on his back for a moment before I lightly returned the hug. Finally, he pulled back, and I nearly sighed at the burst of fresh air and space.
I played my cards then. "We seem to look a little alike. Are you my brother?" I asked.
At first, his expression was sort of a calm amusement, then his brows shot up high. "What do you mean you don't recognize me, Leila. Your brother."
"I..." I frowned slightly, letting confusion settle naturally on my face. "I don't remember anything, brother."
The emotion in his eyes quickly disappeared, replaced with something calm, but cold. I spied a calculating nudge of his eyes.
His brow lifted again. "You don't remember?" he asked slowly.
I shook my head. "I remember my name and who I am. I remember my husband. But everything else…" I paused slightly and swallowed hard to lend my pretense more credence. "…it's blank."
He stared at me, long and hard, his jaw very busy, clenching and unclenching. "You don't remember our plans, too," he continued, his tone lowering, "We have been working on it all these years. It was father's dying wish."
I tilted my head up slightly, chin raised. "Plans" I said, and waited for him to fill in more details again.
If I planned to escape suspicion, I had to let him do most of the talking. He seemed the type to love hearing himself talk. "Yes, our plans, father's plans, which he handed over to us before he died. To rip off everything from Kaelen, his power and empire, everything the Drax family owned, before we finally kill him off, like Father did his first wife, Selene."
My heart raced fast beneath my chest at that. For a moment, I thought he was joking, but the calm in his voice and eyes said he wasn't. He meant every word. So that must be why Kaelen hated Leila?
His brows raised high, something like suspicion creeping into his narrowed stare. "You obviously didn't forget. Father made sure we never did. He drummed it into our consciousness from small. You obviously didn't forget--"
Before he could bombard me with further questions, I grabbed my temples and dropped my head low. "Arrg," I screamed gently, pretending to suffer another headache. I pressed my fingers hard on my temples, making it look very real.
There was a few moments' pause, like he was deliberating whether to reach for me or not. "What's wrong, Leila?" he finally cried, sounding concerned, his hands moving for me. I moved out of his reach quickly.
"Just go, you are making it worse." I cried. "I need to be alone."
"But--"
"Just go," I cried, making a painful wince with my teeth, groaning in faux pain.
He remained undecided for another minute until he finally turned for the door. "Okay. I will come later, Leila, when you are okay rested, then we can talk better."
"Hmmm," I mumbled in agreement just so he would leave. I waited for the door to shut behind him and hear the receding echo of his footsteps before collapsing back onto the vanity table with a hard sigh.
I wondered for how long I would have to avoid him and his plans of doom. But I knew I would have to do something soon. Otherwise, he would become suspicious.
I stared back at the mirror, at the makeup on my face. I sighed again. One problem at a time.
I shifted in the direction of the door. "Come in, maids," I called.
Immediately, they poured in like an anxious flock, almost like they'd been waiting their lives for that call.
A part of me wanted to tell Kaelen about Eli. But then I told myself, as the maids resumed on my hair. This wasn't my war. Though I was thrust into it, I shouldn't make it mine. I just had to find a way to avoid both parties and then get the hell out of here.
Yet, I just couldn't seem to get everything out of my head. My mind busied like a clock, different thoughts running through, while I sat behind the mirror.
I walked down the little aisle of the grand hall of the party hours later, looking as delicately put-together as a doll. Yet in my mind, the questions raged on. What should I do? Should I tell Kaelen about the betrayal? If I did, would he even believe or trust me, would he....
The bright light from the chandelier above spilled into my thoughts as it spilled in golden waves over the rows of tables around. The smiling faces around followed every single movement I made, with something near reverence, like I was a god they worshipped.
Music drifted through the air, voices blending into a low hum of conversation beneath it. I didn't hear much, but I could tell it must be about how I had miraculously survived a six-year coma, return from the dead, as I heard someone put it.
I walked in slow, measured steps to where Kaelen stood at the end of the aisle, sipping gently at his champagne. My eyes sojourned to the faces around.
Then suddenly, my steps faltered, something dark and cold erupting like a wave from my core when my eyes landed on him.
My voice hitched, welled tight in my throat as I muttered the name under my breath, teeth clenched from the fury splitting through me. "Adrian," That bastard.
Beside him, hugging his arms like a lover, his wife, was the bitch, Viviene. So she was the one.