Seth's POV
The sky outside was a pale gray, caught between night and dawn. I sat on the edge of a long wooden bench near a tall window, my hands resting on my knees, my eyes looking unfocused. Aria was asleep behind me, curled up on one side of the grand bed these people had arranged for us. She was wrapped in a thick velvet blanket.
We hadn't spoken much after we arrived, because everything felt too raw, and too uncertain. I kept waiting for someone to barge in and drag us back into the dark forest, but none of that happened.
I thought so because I don't believe or trust the people around here. What if they changed their mind about us and lock us up all over again?
The walls might have been polished stone, and the floors dressed in rich carpets, but I still couldn't shake the scent of fear and dampness from my lungs.
The door creaked softly. I turned, my muscles tight, but it was only the maid. The one with the red hair and voice like warm tea.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, carrying a tray of food and folded garments.
"You didn't," I replied, standing quickly. "Thank you."
She gave me a small nod and looked over at Aria. "She's still resting?"
"Yes," I said, trying not to glance at her too long.
"What's your name?", I asked.
"Lucie" , she responded abruptly, like she had been expecting me to ask.
Lucie placed the tray down on a low table near the window, her eyes looked gentle but observant. "She has kind eyes," she said after a moment. "Even when she was trembling, she kept asking them to spare you. Most people don't think of others especially when they're scared."
I swallowed hard. "Really? She really did that?"
Lucie smiled faintly. "Yes. She was really worried about you. You're really lucky to have such a woman."
I wasn't sure what she meant—lucky to have Aria, or lucky to be alive. Maybe both.
"I left some clothes for both of you," she added. "They should fit for now. If you need anything else, I'll be near the hall."
"Thanks again, Lucie."
She nodded and closed the door behind her with a soft click.
I exhaled deeply. My fingers brushed the rim of a mug on the tray, but I didn't drink. I wasn't hungry. My stomach was a tangled knot of thoughts—about where we were, what would happen next, and why Aria had accepted I walk with her into danger.
Minutes passed. Then a soft voice stirred behind me.
"You're up early."
I turned. Aria had sat up, her long hair spilling over her shoulder like waves of ink. She rubbed her eyes, blinking against the morning light.
"I couldn't sleep," I said.
"Me neither," she whispered.
She slid off the bed, her bare feet padding quietly against the carpet. The blanket was still draped over her shoulders like a cloak.
"I didn't dream," she said, her voice strange.
I tilted my head. "That's good, isn't it?"
She paused near the window, her gaze distant. "Not really. It means my mind's too tired to even imagine a better place."
My chest ached. I hated seeing her like this—lost, unsure and hurting.
She turned to me suddenly. "Did they tell you where we are exactly?"
I shook my head. "Only that we're 'guests.' Whatever that means."
She let out a dry laugh. "Prisoners in fancy clothes."
I couldn't argue.
She looked down at the folded dress Lucie had brought and sighed. "I used to love mornings before everything changed."
I moved closer, but not too close. "Do you want me to step out so you can change?"
She looked at me—really looked. "Do you mind sharing this space with me?"
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"This room. The bed. Everything. I know they assumed we'd be fine with it. I just… I wanted to make sure you're okay with it too."
The question caught me off guard. My throat tightened.
"I'm okay with it," I said quietly. "Only if you are."
She nodded slowly. "I feel safer when you're near."
Her voice cracked, just slightly, like the edge of a plate chipped from being held too tightly.
I turned away for her to change, sitting back down in the chair and facing the window.
A few minutes passed in silence before she spoke again. "Do you think your family's looking for you?"
I hesitated. "Hell no. They don't care if I exist or not."
She said nothing for a while. Then she walked toward me and sat beside the window, staring out with me.
"My parents saw them humiliate me and beat me," she murmured. "I looked back, but they didn't believe me when I told them I didn't push myself to the Alpha. They also rained their own insults and curses on me."
I glanced at her, but she wasn't crying. Not exactly.
"I wanted to believe they'd fight for me at least once," she continued. "That they'd yell, or plead with the Alpha on my behalf, or do something. But they didn't even open their mouths to defend me. They rather opened it to fuel the fire more."
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice rough.
She gave a weak smile. "Not your fault."
Still, I wanted to make it right.
"Lucie said you begged for them to spare me," I said.
"I did."
"Why?"
She turned her head to face me. "Because I didn't want to lose the only person who made me feel like a person again."
I stared at her. My heart thudded against my ribs like a warning bell.
"I'm nothing special, Aria," I said.
"To me, you are."
There it was again—that soft warmth she always carried in her voice.
"I'll make sure you're safe," I said softly. "I don't know how. But I will."
Her eyes glistened with tears. "That's the first promise anyone's ever made me that I believe."
The room fell quiet again, but the silence wasn't heavy anymore.
A bird chirped just beyond the glass. The garden swayed gently in the early breeze.
I turned to her once more, and she gave me a small nod before standing.
"I'll wash up," she said. "Then we can figure out what they want from us."