Chapter 5 Lia

For the first time in days, Lia woke up to sunlight.

It spilled through the high windows in golden streaks, warming the floor where her bare feet touched down. The room was quiet, too quiet. No locked doors. No shadow waiting to pull her back into the dark.

Just a simple note left on the vanity.

"You may walk the house. Don't go beyond the gates. - A"

Her breath caught. Freedom? Not exactly. But it was something. More than she'd had since the moment she'd been handed over like a wrapped gift with a broken bow.

She pulled on a soft dress left neatly folded on the velvet chair-light blue cotton, sleeveless. No collar. No ropes. Her skin breathed with relief.

The hallway outside was bright, the floors gleaming. The house was bigger than she'd realized. Quiet elegance. Cream walls, long rugs, art she couldn't name. Every corner felt like it knew more secrets than it showed.

She was halfway down a hallway when a voice startled her.

"You're Lia."

She turned quickly.

A tall man stood by a side table where he had been pouring a drink. He looked nothing like Alexandre-his hair was sandy brown, skin golden like he'd seen more sun than shadows. There was something lighter about him, like he laughed more than he yelled.

"I am," she said carefully.

He offered a small smile. "Pedro. I'm a friend. Old one. Don't worry, I don't bite. Alexandre would break my jaw if I did."

She cracked the smallest smile.

He gestured down the hall. "Want the full castle tour, or are you just wandering?"

"I'd like to see the house," she said.

He nodded. "Alright then. Come on, princess."

---

Pedro showed her everything. The formal drawing room. The billiard table. The grand library that smelled like dust and secrets. The old ballroom no one used anymore but still shimmered with chandeliers.

He didn't press her with questions. Didn't ask what she was to Alexandre. Just pointed out odd stories-like the oil painting in the west hall that apparently used to hang in a French brothel, or the tiny garden door Alexandre once locked Pedro inside of for an hour.

She laughed more than once.

When they reached the garden, Pedro led her to a stone bench beneath the lemon trees.

The sun was warm. The flowers were blooming. For a moment, it almost felt like the real world again.

"He doesn't let most people in," Pedro said after a while. "Not like this. He's private. Controlled. Like a damn safe with no key."

She didn't speak.

Pedro leaned back. "But then you show up. I haven't seen him this... territorial since he was sixteen and nearly strangled a kid for taking his pen."

Lia turned to him slowly. "Why is he like that?"

Pedro exhaled. "Born that way, maybe. Or made that way. Their family's messed up. But it's not something you should worry your little head about"

She swallowed. Her hands twisted in her lap.

"But you're not scared of him," she said.

"Because I've known him since he was old enough to walk ," Pedro replied softly. "He isn't the best person honestly, but don't hate him even if he practically took you away from home."

Home. She couldn't necessarily claim that she had a home.

She stared ahead. The sun filtered through the trees, dappling her legs with light.

A shadow fell over her.

She didn't have to look to know it was him.

Pedro stood immediately. "She didn't leave the grounds. I showed her the south wing, the library, the garden-"

Alexandre raised a hand, calm. "Thank you, Pedro."

Pedro nodded, gave Lia a soft smile, and walked away, whistling.

Alexandre sat beside her on the bench.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The silence wasn't heavy. Just... unsure.

"Did you like the garden?" he asked eventually.

She nodded. "It feels... real out here."

He glanced at her. "I grew up in this house. My mother used to bring me here when my father was screaming in the halls. I think that's why I keep the garden so clean. It was the only place that wasn't ugly."

Lia looked at him. Really looked.

And for once, he didn't look like the monster. He looked like a man who still remembered what fear smelled like.

"Why did you let me walk around today?" she asked.

His answer was quiet.

"Because you're not a prisoner, Lia. You're just not ready to leave yet."

She turned away. Her heart thudded unevenly.

He let the silence stretch.

"Do you hate me today?" he asked.

She was quiet. Then: "Not today."

He nodded. "Good."

And when he reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, she didn't pull away.

Not today.