Chapter 46 - A Different Side

Ayra sat before the mirror, watching as the makeup artist dusted a fine layer of powder over her face, softening the natural glow of her skin. The room was quiet except for the occasional murmurs of the stylists as they worked on her, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest.

Her reflection stared back at her, the image of a bride-to-be, yet she felt nothing close to what a bride should feel. The dress hung elegantly on the stand beside her, an intricate design of ivory silk and delicate embroidery, but all she could focus on was the unfamiliar weight pressing on her shoulders.

The marriage was happening. Today.

She should have expected it. Lucian was too pragmatic to waste time. They had agreed—or rather, she had relented—to a simple court marriage with minimal witnesses, and now the reality of it was sinking in. She was going to be tied to a man she barely knew, a man who had changed overnight into something unreadable, cold.

The soft click of the door opening made her heart jump. She expected another assistant, maybe the wedding coordinator, but instead, Lisbeth walked in.

Ayra tensed immediately.

Lisbeth looked… rough. Her usually impeccable appearance was slightly off—her hair not as sleekly arranged, her makeup smudged around the edges, as if she hadn’t bothered to touch it up after a long night.

The makeup artists exchanged glances before quickly gathering their supplies. They must have sensed the tension in the air because they wasted no time excusing themselves. Within seconds, it was just Ayra and Lisbeth alone in the room.

A thick silence stretched between them before Lisbeth scoffed and crossed her arms. “Well, don’t you look lovely,” she said, her tone carrying its usual bite.

Ayra let out a slow breath, meeting Lisbeth’s gaze in the mirror. “You look terrible.”

Lisbeth barked out a dry laugh and sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing her temples. “That’s because I feel terrible.” She tilted her head, eyes scanning Ayra with an unreadable expression. “I suppose I should congratulate you.”

Ayra arched an eyebrow. “Are you here to do that?”

Lisbeth smirked. “Not really.”

Ayra turned back to the mirror and began fixing the curls framing her face. “Then what do you want?”

For a moment, Lisbeth didn’t answer. She exhaled sharply and leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to see if you were actually going through with it.”

Ayra’s hands stilled. She hesitated before picking up a lipstick and uncapping it, pretending to focus on her reflection. “I don’t have a choice, do I? You made sure I didn't.”

Lisbeth let out a dry chuckle. “We always have choices, Ayra. You’re just picking the one that makes the most sense for now. I picked the one that made the most sense.”

Ayra frowned but didn’t argue. Because in the end, Lisbeth was right. She wasn’t being dragged down the aisle kicking and screaming. She had agreed to this, had weighed her options, and understood the consequences of walking away.

It didn’t mean she liked it.

Lisbeth studied her with a lopsided smirk. “You’re not in love with him.”

Ayra snorted. “Obviously.”

“Is he in love with you?”

That gave Ayra pause. A tight, bitter feeling twisted in her chest as she recalled Lucian’s recent behavior. The man she had spoken to over the phone that night—the one who had teased her, distracted her, made her forget her own misery for a while—felt somewhat surreal. Like a fairytale. Or a mirage.

“I don’t think love is part of this equation,” Ayra finally answered.

Lisbeth hummed. “Then what is?”

Ayra hesitated, then shrugged. “Business? Strategy. Convenience.”

“Sounds romantic.”

Ayra shot her a look through the mirror. “Lisbeth.”

“What?” Lisbeth smirked, leaning forward. 

"Can you at least tell me the real reason why?"

"You know the reason. Do you find it strange?"

“You can’t blame me for being curious. One day, I'm all but locked away, and the next, I'm engaged to Lucian Cyrus?” Ayra tilted her head. “Doesn’t that strike even you as a little strange?”

Ayra bit the inside of her cheek, her thoughts drifting to the last conversation she’d had with Lucian. He had been so sure, so firm, as if the marriage absolutely HAD to happen. She still didn’t know why he had suddenly changed, why he had gone from somewhat dismissive to unwavering and... Caring. 

“Strange or not,” Lisbeth murmured, “it’s happening.”

Lisbeth was quiet for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “You know, I should be making fun of you right now. Mocking you for getting yourself into this mess.”

Ayra raised an eyebrow. “But?”

Lisbeth shrugged. “But I can’t bring myself to do it.” She rubbed her temples again, exhaustion lining her face. “Because, despite everything, I know what it’s like to be backed into a corner.”

Ayra set the lipstick down and turned fully to face Lisbeth. “And?”

“And… Well. You should have a good idea who you're getting married to, no?.”

Ayra didn’t. Not really. But what choice did she have?

She inhaled deeply and smoothed her hands over the silk of her robe. “Lisbeth.”

Lisbeth met her gaze.

Ayra hesitated before saying, “Why are you really here?”

Lisbeth exhaled through her nose and ran a hand through her hair. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to see you one last time before you disappeared into the clutches of your new husband?”

Ayra smirked despite herself. “Clutches?”

Lisbeth smirked back, but it quickly faded. Her fingers tapped against her knee, her expression turning serious. “You’re stepping into something big, Ayra. Be careful.”

Ayra swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

She wanted to ask what Lisbeth meant - if she knew something Ayra didn’t. But before she could, Lisbeth stood, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt.

“Well,” she said, exhaling sharply. “I should get going before I start saying sappy things.”

Ayra arched an eyebrow. “You? Sappy?”

Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Despite everything, Ayra smiled. It was a small, fleeting thing, but it was there. 

Lisbeth reached for the door but paused. “Hey.”

Ayra looked at her.

“Don’t let him swallow you whole.” She hesitated. "And remember what I told you. You would want to get Lucian under your thumb and the only way to do that is to have something against him."

Then, without another word, Lisbeth slipped out of the room, leaving Ayra alone once more.

The quiet settled in again, heavier than before.

Ayra turned back to the mirror and stared at her own reflection. Her makeup was flawless, her hair arranged in a way that exuded effortless elegance. She looked every bit the bride she was meant to be.

And yet…

Her fingers drifted to the necklace she had slipped into the pocket of her robe earlier. The one Lucian had given her.

Slowly, almost absentmindedly, she took it out and stared at the pendant.

A weight settled in her chest.

With a deep breath, she clasped it around her neck, letting the cold metal rest against her skin.

She wasn’t sure why she did it. Maybe it was defiance. Maybe it was resignation.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because a part of her wanted to believe that this wasn’t a mistake.

That somewhere beneath all of this, there was still a choice to be made.

She had wanted to call Lisbeth back, to tell her that Lucian was not like that. He was not the cold, hateful man people painted him out to be. There was no need to have him under her thumb; they could just communicate. Like normal people. 

But something had held her back. Maybe Lucian's attitude was too much of a shock and she did not even really believe it at this point. Or perhaps it was Lisbeth's attitude that threw her off kilter. 

Ayra let out a frustrated sigh. She didn't quite appreciate all the intrigue.