"Don't be coy with me," Matthew spat.
"Oh, I'm not being coy," Elias said, reaching for a glass of wine from a passing tray. "This is just my face when someone accuses me without evidence. Do you like it? I've been practicing it in the mirror."
The duke coughed into his drink.
Matthew's eyes darkened, but he kept smiling. "You may think this is all a game, cousin, but people are watching. When you fall, it won't be quietly."
Elias sipped his wine and leaned in just slightly, keeping the smile on his lips. "I do so love a dramatic ending."
"Your Majesty, if I may," Duke Williams began. "I can assure you that the Prince…" He caught himself. "—Lord Elias has nothing to do with Miss Lirae's disappearance."
The king's head swiveled in his direction. His gaze alone was enough to make the Duke visibly shrink two inches.
The poor man blinked, swallowed hard, and promptly shut his mouth.
"Oh… didn't I mention?" Elias began. "Miss Lirae has been found." He smiled, letting the words hang in the air. "As a matter of fact, she will be here very soon."
Matthew threw his head back and let out a laugh so loud and theatrical it could've been heard in three neighboring kingdoms. "Everyone!" he shouted, gesturing grandly to the room as if announcing the punchline of a long-winded joke. "Elias here says Miss Lirae has been found!"
The room erupted in a collective gasp of relief. Guests turned to one another with wide eyes, whispering behind fans and champagne glasses.
Matthew, however, was still laughing. Alone. Loudly.
Elias stood there, perfectly composed, but inside he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. God, this man needed a hobby.
"Is there a reason you believe I am lying, Your Majesty?" Elias asked smoothly, arching an eyebrow.
Matthew's laughter finally died down, but his grin didn't. It was all teeth and malice. "You say she will be here soon," he said with a flourish, gesturing. "Well, let's all have our drinks, be merry, dance… while we wait for Miss Lirae."
He patted Elias on the shoulder, then turned and strutted back to the seat that had been reserved for him.
Across the ballroom, the orchestra struck up a cheerful waltz.
Duke Williams turned sharply to Elias. "For how long are we going to bear this?" he hissed, eyes darting to make sure no one was in earshot. "This is the silliest person to ever rule a kingdom. Are you just going to stand by and watch him bring Terra Lucida to its knees?"
Elias's lips tugged into a calm smile. "Not here, Duke. Not here," he replied, pressing his wine glass gently into the older man's hand as if that would distract him from his rant. "Patience. I just have to clear my name first, and then I will fight for my right to the throne."
Williams scoffed, his mustache twitching. "You know what he does at council meetings?" he demanded. "He drinks. He brings nothing to the table. Nothing! He just lounges there while his father practically stands on his shoulder, speaking for him."
Elias sighed. "Patience," he repeated. But truthfully, his grip tightened on the stem of his glass. He hated this. But he had to play smart. This wasn't just about a throne. It was about justice—for Lirae, for himself, and for a kingdom that deserved better than a puppet king.
Before the duke could spiral into another passionate explosion, the herald at the grand doors banged his staff against the floor. "Announcing the arrival of Miss Lirae Osbourne."
The entire ballroom turned as one.
The orchestra screeched to an awkward stop mid-waltz.
Everyone's gaze riveted to the entrance.
Everyone... except Elias.
His eyes were on the crowd.
Let them stare at the miracle. Let them gasp and gape. That wasn't his concern. His concern was the person who would look the most surprised. He scanned the sea of people, his heart pounding in anticipation.
Most wore the same expression.
But then he saw one face stood out from the rest. One expression didn't match the others. And it belonged to King Matthew.
His face had gone pale. His jaw dropped slightly, the goblet in his hand trembled.
Elias tilted his head ever so slightly. Impossible. His brain was making things up. If there was one person who loved Lirae almost as much as Elias did, it was Matthew. Ever since they were younger, Matthew had the biggest crush on Lirae.
"Wow! Is it me," Duke Williams whispered, craning his neck, "or does she look even more beautiful than I last saw her?"
Elias finally turned his head, almost reluctantly.
There she was.
Lyra.
No. Lirae.
Or rather, Lyra as Lirae.
This woman glided. Her posture was perfect, the slight tilt of her chin regal, her smile diplomatic but warm. And her dress—by all the gods above—was a masterpiece. Soft lavender silk, embellished with delicate silver embroidery that danced under the chandeliers.
Where the hell did she find that dress? And more importantly, why did she look like she was born to wear it?
"Elias," Duke Williams nudged him sharply. "Try not to look like a man seeing his future wife emerge from a fairytale. You're practically drooling."
"I am not," Elias muttered.
"How long did you think you could keep your relationship with Miss Lirae a secret?" the duke pressed.
"Uh… oh…" Elias scrambled, caught off guard. "She… she didn't want the… um… well… you know, society gossip."
"Yes, the prince and a woman without a title. Definitely, gossip worthy."
Elias cleared his throat and tugged at his collar, which suddenly felt too tight. "She would make a magnificent queen."
"Someday…" he added softly.
Elias wasn't sure if he was still pretending to believe in the act they were pulling—or desperately praying it would become real. Watching her move through the room, Elias could hardly remember that it was all a charade.
Lyra approached the gathered guests with warmth, nodding to nobles whose names she had repeated so often with Thaddeus it had nearly driven her mad. Lord Fenwick, Lady Mirabelle. She had memorized their faces, their titles. She'd practiced greetings in front of mirrors and cursed at her own tongue for tripping over formalities.