I Don't Understand Anything

She wasn’t wrong.

And that scared him.

He turned to the window, staring out at the moonlit road. His chest felt tight from the deeper question gnawing at him.

Was this who he really was? A man too afraid to disrupt the political tea party, even if it meant someone he cared about was getting stepped on? Did the people love him because they believed he would be different—or because he was simply less of a monster than his cousin?

“You don’t understand how these things work,” he said, weakly, tiredly. The last crumbling wall of defense.

“You’re right,” she said, without a trace of sarcasm this time. “I don’t understand anything. This world of yours with its rules and titles and thrones. But I do know one thing.”

She leaned forward, eyes fierce.

“I will stand up for myself. While I’m here, pretending to be her, lying through my teeth, risking my neck—I won’t let people like her talk down to me like I’m a piece of dirt on their royal boot. I don’t care about titles or crowns or polished smiles. I care about dignity. Mine.”

“And what the hell?” Lyra said suddenly, arms crossed, still fuming from the emotional whiplash. “Why didn’t you tell me you were accused of Lirae’s disappearance? Did you kill her?”

Elias’s head snapped toward her. “Did you—did you just ask me if I killed her?”

“I would never hurt her!” he thundered. “I loved her, goddammit!! I loved her with every drop of blood in my veins!!”

The fury in his tone was fire—but behind it, the hurt was a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the fight draining from her instantly. “I—I shouldn’t have said that. I just... panicked.”

The hurt in his eyes lingered. “No, you’re right to ask,” Elias said hoarsely, his chest rising and falling. “I’ve lived with the question for months. The fear that even if I didn’t kill her, I somehow… let it happen.”

He looked away. “I found her... bleeding. Stabbed. With my dagger. She was cold. Still breathing, but fading fast. There was blood everywhere. On the floor. On me. It—” he broke off, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I called Thaddeus,” Elias continued. “He knew what it would look like. What it would mean. So I panicked. I buried her. I told myself I was doing it to find the real killer, but... the more I think about it... the more I realize I buried her to save myself.”

He exhaled a bitter laugh, void of humor. “Some knight in shining armor, huh?”

Lyra turned in her seat, shifting toward him. She reached out and touched his cheek, fingertips brushing the stubble there. “You may be a giant asshole,” she said, softly, “but you are not a bad man.”

His gaze flicked to hers.

“You could’ve tossed me out on my ass the moment you found me,” she continued.

His face softened. He raised a hand, gently wrapping his fingers around hers as it cupped his cheek. “You really think that?” he asked, quietly.

“I do,” she said.

And then, without quite realizing how or why, Lyra leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss so soft, it felt like a question. Her mouth was sweet, curious, lingering just long enough to ask if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t a mistake.

Elias didn’t move. Didn’t deepen the kiss. He wanted to—his whole body screamed to—but something in him stayed still. Not out of doubt. Out of respect. For her. For Lirae. For the blurry line between the two.

When Lyra finally pulled away, she did so slowly, as if waking from a warm, dangerous dream. Her heart pounded in her chest.

What the hell was she doing?

This man was clearly still in love—with her. Well, technically not her. The her before.

*****

But she still wanted more.

“I told you,” Elias broke the silence with a smug grin, “lots of women swoon. Including you.”

Lyra turned to him with a raised brow, arms crossed. “And I told you… you’re an asshole.”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “Still don’t know what that means. But I’m guessing it’s something flattering, judging by the way you kissed me.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Yes, Elias. Deep down, it’s a term of endearment. It means ‘beloved royal pain-in-the-butt.’”

He nodded seriously. “Ah. I thought so. I shall wear it as a badge of honor.”

The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the townhouse in the capital. Lantern light spilled over the cobblestone street, illuminating the guards and the familiar front doors that had become strangely comforting to Lyra.

“One question,” she asked as he stepped down and offered her his hand. “Didn’t Lirae have her own home?”

“She did,” Elias replied smoothly as he helped her down, their hands brushing again. “But I’m keeping you close. For your safety.”

She paused mid-step, one brow raised. “Or because you’re possessive and enjoy ordering people around?”

“Can’t it be both?”

Before Lyra could deliver a retort, they turned toward the steps—only to find Thaddeus standing there, practically bouncing. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, hands clasped.

“Well?” he asked, leaning forward dramatically.

Lyra blinked, then slipped into character with a dramatic gasp and the saddest pout she could manage. “It was... horrible, Thaddeus. Just terrible. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my whole life.” She even added a fake sniffle and dabbed at an imaginary tear.

Thaddeus’s face crumbled with empathy as he reached out. “Oh my world! I’m so sorry, Miss. I should’ve done more.”

“You’re so gullible, Thaddeus,” Elias cut in.

Lyra’s tragic sobs dissolved into giggles, and soon she was clutching her side laughing.

The poor man blinked in confusion, looking between the two of them. “Wait. What just happened?”

“She’s fine,” Elias said, patting the butler on the shoulder with mock sympathy. “You’ve been emotionally manipulated. Congratulations.”

“Miss Lyra! That is completely not fair,” Thaddeus chastised, arms flailing.

Lyra grinned wickedly, lifting her chin. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. Besides, I had to get you back for the absolute hell you put me.”