Chapter5: Mine

The corner of his mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile. "Lysander, please. We are to be married, after all."

His casual tone, as if he were commenting on the weather, made my stomach churn. Nevertheless, I nodded and managed a smile. "Lysander, then."

He gazed at me for a moment, his eyes so intense that I felt like he could see right through me. Then, without warning, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box.

As soon as I saw it, my heart started racing. It was true. At fifteen, I was getting engaged to a man I had just met.

Lysander commented, opening the box to reveal a diamond ring most likely worth more than most people's houses, "I believe this is customary."

I couldn't move; I just stared at the ring. The room fell silent as everyone bore witness to this dream becoming reality.

"Thank you," I said, pushing myself to reach out and take the box. Our fingers brushed for a moment, and I frozen at the touch. Lysander didn't react if he noticed.

Instead, he took the ring from the box and held out his hand impatiently. A moment later, I realized what he wanted. I placed my left hand in his with trembling fingers.

His hands felt surprisingly warm as he slid the ring onto my finger. I had expected them to be cold. The ring settled in place, unfamiliar and weighty.

"A perfect fit," Lysander said, his thumb gliding over my knuckles in a way that made my spine tingle.

I raised my head to study his expression, but his face revealed nothing. It was a mask.

A maid shattering the trance said, "Dinner is served," from the doorway.

I kept glancing at the ring now on my left hand as we headed to the dining room. It felt like a shackle, tethered to a future I never asked for.

The remainder of the evening passed in a haze of awkward speech and meaningful looks. While the men around me casually discussed business transactions and territory disputes as if they were talking about the weather, I picked at my food, too anxious to eat.

I let myself collapse only much later, when I was at last alone in my room. As I lay on my bed still wearing the clothes that made me feel like a stranger in my own skin, tears flowed down my face.

I hurriedly wiped my eyes when someone gently knocked on my door. "Come in," I said, hoping my voice sounded as steady as I felt.

To my amazement, my little brother Kael peeped around the door. Six years old, he remained innocent to the darker sides of our family's life.

With a small, doubtful voice, "Kylie?" he asked. "Are you alright? I heard you crying."

At his compassion, my heart melted. I said, "I'm fine, buddy," patting the bed next to me. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

He crawled up next to me; his Batman pajamas stood out against my elegant gown. "Is it because of that man who gave you the ring?"

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain the matter to a six-year-old. "Sort of," I finally replied. "It's complicated grown-up material."

Kael nodded sagely, as though he understood exactly. Then he abruptly flung his arms around me in a tight hug. His voice muffled against my shoulder. "Don't worry, Kylie," he said. "If he's nasty, I'll protect you from him."

Tears threatening once more for a very different reason, I hugged him back. "Thanks, Kael," I whispered. "You know that you are the best little brother ever?"

I silently made a vow as I held him. Whatever happened with Lysander, whatever the challenge, I would protect Kael and Ava from this life. Their worth exceeded that of pawns in our family's games.

And perhaps, just perhaps, I could figure out how to protect myself as well.

The booming sound of the grandfather clock in the corridor echoed across the huge manor as midnight approached. I lay wide awake in bed, feeling as though my head was spinning with ideas and emotions. Instead of being comforting, the silk sheets now felt suffocating against my skin. The memory of dinner lingered in my mind, with the tension, loaded looks, and barely veiled threats hidden beneath polite conversation. It replayed in my thoughts, each iteration deepening the pit of fear in my stomach.

I turned onto my side and looked at the elaborate vanity across the room. In the low moonlight streaming through the heavy draperies, I could just see my reflection — a pallid ghost with wide, troubled eyes. Looking back at me, I hardly recognized myself. Was I the cleaned-up daughter of a criminal lord? The future bride of an even more dangerous man?

Muttering "Screw this," I slung my legs over the side of the bed. As I padded across the room in near-darkness, fumbling for my bathrobe, the soft carpet muffled my feet. I shrugged it on over my silk pajamas, feeling the cool air shiver up my bare legs and spine. Perhaps it wasn't just the cold causing shivers.

I slid to the door, pressing my ear against the smooth wood. The kind of silence that screamed secrets and peril. Turning the doorknob, my hand shook, and I winced at the barely audible click as it opened.

The corridor opened out before me like a vast black tunnel lined with antiques and valuable artwork. Dad referred to family heirloom items. I knew better now. Every piece most likely had a bloody past and was paid for with life rather than money. I moved discreetly. Years of sneaking out to parties had finally had a purpose. My heart hammered so fiercely that I knew the entire house would wake from it.

Doubt tore at me when I got to the secret passage's hidden door. Was I really doing this? This was insane. Should I be discovered, I had no idea about the fallout. But something kept me moving ahead. Was it an inquiry? A terrible sense of obligation? Perhaps also the great need to comprehend the world I was married into.

My fingertips discovered the secret clasp, cool metal against my damp flesh. "Am I really doing this?" My voice was just a breath in the stillness as I whispered to myself. I paused, poised on the brink of a choice that might decide everything.

I took a deep breath and pushed. The panel groaned softly as it slid open to reveal the dark secret passageway. I immediately smelled the musty scent — a mix of ancient wood, dust, and long-buried secrets. It was a stark contrast to the floral perfume I was wearing, which reminded me of the two worlds I was straddling.

My heart raced as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I made out a familiar silhouette.

"Ava!" I hissed, a mix of irritation and relief in my voice. "What are you doing here?"

My sister turned, her eyes wide with a mix of exhilaration and anxiety that I knew all too well. I could see the mischievous sparkle in her eye even in the low light — the same one that had gotten us into trouble more times than I could count.

"Same as you, I guess," she said, with a slight smile on her lips. "Couldn't sleep; couldn't stop thinking about everything."

I approached, steadying my quivering hand on the cool stone wall. Up close, I could see Ava's tense posture and her fingers slightly shaking as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Though she tried hard not to show it, she was just as afraid as I was.

I shook my head and mumbled, "This is insane. We shouldn't be here. If Dad discovers-"

Ava interrupted, "But we are here," she said, her voice low but forceful. Something tougher and more determined replaced the mischief in her eyes. "Come on, Kylie. You know you want to know what's going on. We are entitled to know what we are signing into."

Before I could protest much more, muted but definite voices floated through the wall. Ava and I looked at each other, a quiet conversation flowing between us in a heartbeat. Then, one at a time, we stared down the peepholes.

Before us spread the lounge, glowing warmly from the fireplace. Shadow and light moved across the men assembled there, transforming familiar features into hideous masks. My nose wrinkled at the aroma of aged whiskey and expensive cigars coming through the wall.

Lysander sat in his regular chair, one hand loosely holding a tumbler of amber liquid. With a comfortable but vigilant stance, like a predator at rest, he looked every inch the master of his territory. His face's angular planes were captured by the firelight, creating dark shadows that gave him an older, tougher look.

"What is happening?" I struggled to catch every detail, my lips hardly moving as I inhaled.

Ava answered with an equally gentle tone. "Lysander and his soldiers are here right now. Everyone else departed following... you know."

I knew, but the memory of raised voices, broken glass, and the distinct sound of a gun being cocked rushed back. I pushed back a shiver.

Lysander's voice, icy and forceful, cut into my thoughts. "Gentlemen, we have to talk about tonight's events."

The room's tension turned up a degree. I watched Dorian curled on the sofa, a smile flickering on his lips as he spun his empty glass with soft ice clinking. "Oh, come on, Lysander," he said, his voice gentle but his eyes piercing. "It wasn't entirely terrible. The cuisine was first-rate; the beverages were flowing; the company" I knew he was thinking about me when his eyes strayed to the door. "Well, let's say your fiancée is rather a vision."

My cheeks burned. How dare he!