Lyra let out a sigh. "Couldn't you summarise it?" she asked. "You know, break it down so I at least have an idea how to get out of here when I want to?"
Elias glanced at her, lips twitching. "I haven't read it," he admitted. "But we're looking into artifacts that were destroyed during the Great Purge. We just have to flip through until we find one about a mirror."
"Right," Lyra sighed, the word coming out heavier than it should have.
Elias shifted beside her, the quiet tugging at his chest. He didn't like seeing her like this—so small, so uncertain. With a softness that surprised even himself, he reached out and ran his hand slowly down her arm. His touch was careful.
"We'll get you home, don't worry," he said.
"I just…" Lyra trailed off. She looked down at her feet. "I'm beginning to wonder if I even have a place. I don't fit in here, that much is clear, and I don't fit in my world either. It… it's unsettling."
Elias's brows furrowed slightly. "Hey," he said, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "You are the most carefree woman I've ever met. It's… refreshing.."
Lyra arched a brow. "Wow. So poetic. Keep talking, Casanova."
He chuckled and shrugged. "Look, you may be a social misfit here, but for some reason… I like it. You. It's annoying… but I like it." His laugh came then. "That doesn't make any sense, does it?"
Lyra let out a laugh of her own. "No, it doesn't," she admitted. "But… I like it."
For some reason, Elias's gaze dropped to her lips. It wasn't a conscious move. It was magnetic. His hand drifted up until his fingers brushed her cheek and cupped her face.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, as if the words had escaped him before he could put up a defense.
Lyra's heart picked up speed. She didn't move away. She just stared up at him, completely present, feeling everything at once. The ache of being displaced, the longing to be wanted. His head lowered, slowly. And Lyra, yeah… she definitely wanted to kiss him. Especially with the way he was looking at her.
She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, slowly. Her fingers curling gently into the folds of his shirt. With her eyes closed, the world around her faded into background noise. All she could feel was his breath, warm against her lips.
Elias leaned in, drawn. Just at the moment of contact, their lips barely a whisper apart—
"Your Highness!" a voice called out from the entrance to the library. "The King is here!"
Elias stiffened as if someone had dumped ice water down his back. "The… the king?" he repeated.
Lyra blinked up at him, their faces still absurdly close. "Is that code for your dad?" she whispered.
Elias glanced toward the library doors. "Shhh… stay here," he said, gently guiding her behind one of the taller bookshelves with a hand at her back. "He cannot see you—not yet."
He stepped away, his breath visibly exhaling the tension. That kiss—so close, so real—vanished. And maybe, he was a little grateful for the interruption. Because for a second, all he'd seen was Lirae's face.
*****
"Your Majesty," Elias said as he entered the lavish parlour, bowing with practiced grace and exactly the right amount of insincerity.
"Elias," Matthew said dryly, raising an eyebrow, "I came to be sure myself that you hadn't fled."
Elias straightened with a smirk. "Why would I do that, Your Majesty? I'd never abandon my people." His tone was smooth, but the dig underneath was sharp enough to draw blood.
Matthew's eye twitched. "Your people?" Matthew repeated. "Only one of us sits on the throne, Elias."
"Oh, I know," Elias replied, walking over to pour himself a glass of wine. "But I don't need the throne to acknowledge them as mine. They have been, and always will be, my first love."
Matthew's jaw tightened. "Romantic," he said. "You missed your calling. You should've been a poet."
Elias lifted his glass in a mock-toast. "Pass. I was destined for a higher calling."
"Speaking of loves…" King Matthew said. "Still no word from Miss Lirae? How do you plan on wiping your hands clean of these allegations?"
Elias's spine straightened, though his fingers itched to throw something very breakable at his cousin's smug face. "Your Majesty, I didn't know you cared," he said smoothly, pouring sarcasm. "Is this why you came all the way from the capital? You could've summoned me."
Matthew smiled wider, though it didn't reach his eyes. It rarely did. "I plan to keep an eye on you myself, cousin," he said with a trace of venom. "The disappearance of Miss Lirae—and you being the last to have seen her alive—might just be the final nail I need to ridicule you in the eyes of your people."
Matthew's smile sharpened. He gave Elias a long, mocking once-over before turning on his heel to leave.
But Elias wasn't done. Not nearly.
"Your Majesty…" he called, stopping Matthew mid-stride. "Keep a firm grip on that throne. I'd like to take it back with a fight."
Matthew paused, one foot out the door, and let out a short, humorless huff. "So dramatic. You really should have been a poet," he muttered without turning back, then disappeared.
Elias stood there for a heartbeat, letting the silence settle. Then, his composure cracked.
"Thaddeus!!!" he boomed, striding across the room.
A beat later, Thaddeus emerged from behind a curtain, chewing on a biscuit. "Yes… Your Highness," he drawled, brushing crumbs from his sleeve.
Elias shot him a look. "You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"
"As always," Thaddeus said cheerfully, not even pretending to be sorry.
Elias let out a sharp breath, more amused than annoyed. He honestly didn't know how he'd survive without Thaddeus's particular brand of dry loyalty.
"Good," Elias said, cracking his knuckles. "Get ready. Tomorrow morning, you begin training Miss Lyra to impersonate Lirae."
"Every maid goes on vacation. All of them."