She Isn't Lirae

But that wasn’t what caught Elias off guard.

It was the way her head lolled against his shoulder, mouth slightly ajar, and snoring with the enthusiasm of a chainsaw. No wonder her ex dumped her.

And if that weren’t enough, a tiny bead of drool wobbled on the edge of her lip, threatening to betray her dignity.

“Really?” he muttered under his breath, torn between irritation and an undeniable flicker of tenderness.

*****

Carefully, as if she might shatter into a million pieces if moved too roughly, Elias scooped her up in his arms. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake, the faint scent of bird poop mingling with her natural, faintly sweet scent.

The carriage came to a halt, and Elias climbed out with practiced ease, cradling Lyra against his chest. Her soft, steady breathing was almost hypnotic.

The grand doors of his mansion swung open before he could even reach them, as if on cue. His butler, Thadeus, was already waiting, impeccably dressed.

“Your highness,” Thaddeus gasped, his usual calm demeanor shattered as he caught sight of the lady cradled gently in Elias’s arms. His eyes went wide, as if witnessing a ghost.

Elias, ever the picture of calm regal composure, paid him no mind and continued his slow, deliberate stroll up the grand staircase. Each step echoed through the mansion’s marble halls. The weight of the mystery—and the woman—in his arms pressed against his chest, an unexpected heaviness he didn’t quite know what to do with.

He reached his bedroom. Gently, he lowered her onto the soft bedspread, careful not to jostle her too much. She shifted slightly, a faint pout curling her lips as she smacked them and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a foreign language—or maybe just nonsense.

Elias chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “Whatever you’re saying, Lyra, I’m sure it’s hilarious.”

He turned to leave, and there was Thaddeus, waiting.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?” Elias raised one elegant eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Thaddeus threw up his hands dramatically. “Your highness, I’m simply trying to wrap my mind around this. How on Terra Lucida is it that Miss Lirae is alive?”

Elias sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “She isn’t Lirae. At least, not the one we knew. I’m still trying to figure out who she really is.”

Thaddeus’s mouth fell open in shock, a faint gasp escaping. “My God! The resemblance… It’s uncanny.”

“Exactly,” Elias nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Which is why, for now, no one can know she’s here. If the others see her, they’ll think its Lirae and, well… we don’t want to repeat that nightmare.”

“Oh yes, your highness. Shall I prepare a room for her?”

Elias rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his usual stoic mask. “Yes, please. But don’t move her until she wakes up. I think she’s been through quite the ordeal—or she’s just plain crazy. Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell which is worse.”

Just then, a loud, unmistakable fart erupted from the room, echoing with a tragic finality through the quiet mansion hallway. Elias’s shoulders sagged in defeat, his perfectly composed façade crumbling for a moment. He let out a long, slow sigh as if the universe itself was conspiring against him.

Gently, as if handling a fragile antique, he closed the bedroom door. Then, with a weary glance back, he muttered, “And please, for everything holy, have my sheets washed in the morning. And the entire room disinfected. Twice.”

Thaddeus chuckled softly and nodded in solemn agreement. “Yes, your highness. One more thing, a constable came around while you were out. A date has been picked for the commencement of the trial looking into the disappearance of Lady Lirae. I’m afraid you are still the prime suspect.”

“Of course, I am. She died in my arms, Thaddeus.” Elias groaned, running a hand down his face.

“Are you going to tell them she is dead? I mean, they still think she is missing.” Thaddeus went on.

“No. they have no proof just theories…” he took a pause and looked at Thaddeus. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

Thaddeus hesitated. “I think your judgment was sound. The crown is looking for ways to bury you and they may use this to drive the final nail in your coffin.”

“Right…. Make sure our guest stays out of sight though until we find out how to get her back to wherever she comes from.”

“Yes your highness.”

*****

When Lyra finally opened her eyes, the world around her was softly bathed in the pale, golden light of morning. Her gaze fluttered open to unfamiliar walls—walls that screamed “expensive,” “historic,” and “please don’t touch anything.” Slowly, the images around her began to coalesce, but her mind was foggy.

She blinked a few times, trying to piece together how she had ended up in this pristine, oddly silent room, far from the chaos she remembered. But nothing clicked into place. It was like her brain had hit the ultimate “404 error”—memory not found.

Then, like a broken record, the scenes she did remember started to play on repeat. Each one made less and less sense.

First, there was the moment just before everything spiraled: standing in the cramped garage of the house she’d only recently inherited from her aunt. A house that was supposed to be a new chapter, a fresh start, but instead felt more like a mausoleum to forgotten family secrets.

And then… BAM. Out of nowhere, an impossibly handsome man with storm-gray eyes and a knife hovering an inch from her throat.

Her mind jumped again, skipping. Before that surreal encounter, she had been at work, trying (and spectacularly failing) to land a promotion she knew she deserved. Instead, the boss had given the spot to her annoying coworker who flirted just a little too much with the boss.

Which, honestly, was bad enough.