I Am Not

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.

*****

And yet now? She was executing it with terrifying grace.

She paused before Countess Ambrelle and curtsied.

“She’s either going to save this kingdom or accidentally charm her way into ruling another one,” Elias muttered under his breath.

Duke Williams chuckled. “Either way, you better hold on tight, Lord Elias. Because she just made her entrance and half the men are watching including the king.”

As she made her way to Elias, who stood beside Duke Williams, she couldn’t help but enjoy the stunned silence that followed her. Her confidence was half performance, half adrenaline-fueled denial that she was moments away from a full-blown panic attack.

She curtsied gracefully, a picture of refined decorum. “Duke Williams, delightful to see you once again.”

Elias’s mouth dropped open, and for a second, he genuinely questioned if someone had cast a glamour spell. Who was this woman? And where was the sarcastic hurricane he was familiar with.

“Miss Lirae, beautiful as always,” the Duke said warmly, and took her hand with courtly reverence, brushing a gentlemanly kiss across her knuckles.

Elias bristled slightly. He knew it was just etiquette… but did Williams have to hold her hand for that long?

Then she turned to him.

“Lord Elias…” she said with a soft, practiced smile that made him feel like the only man in the room.

“I will give you two love birds privacy,” Duke Williams chuckled knowingly and disappeared into the crowd.

“Magnificent.”

Lyra leaned closer, dropping her voice just low enough for only him to hear. “So, any suspects yet?”

Elias snapped back to reality, scanning the room with a trained eye. “Keep up the façade. Anyone might be listening,” he warned, jaw tightening.

“Oh… right… sorry,” she whispered quickly, her composure slipping just a little. She straightened her posture again, instantly resuming her elegant act, though her fingers fiddled with the edge of her glove.

“You had to add a piece of you to that dress, didn’t you?” Elias asked, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

“I told Thaddeus what would make me most comfortable and sexy,” she replied, shrugging ever so slightly as her eyes danced with mischief. “Isn’t that the protocol for infiltrating high society—make ‘em stare, make ‘em sweat?”

“You may be asked the name of your modiste,” Elias cautioned. “This is unusual, so questions might arise.”