Chapter 39 Impostor
Lyra barely had time to react before four massive men stepped forward and seized her by the arms and shoulders. The glass of honeyed grape juice slipped from her hand, crashing to the marble floor with a shattering clang.
Irene was allergic to honey?
Lyra was stunned beyond words.
“What do you have to say now? Impostor?!”
Her heart leapt into her throat. She shook her head frantically. “No! This… this isn’t real! I’ve been lying about my allergy!”
Darius’s voice cut through her protests commandingly. “Enough of the lies! Stop speaking and tell the truth!”
Lyra froze, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The men held her tight, dragging her closer toward him. Her heart was hammering so loudly that it gave her away.
How could she even act so afraid of who was supposed to be her own father?
Darius stepped closer, and his gaze burned into her. “How did you do it?” he demanded, his voice low and deadly serious. “How do you look exactly like my princess?”
She shook her head rapidly, panic rising. “Dad… please! It’s me! I swear! It’s me!”
But he wasn’t convinced. His jaw tightened, and he turned away briefly, muttering as if to himself. “You are a terrible liar! My baby girl doesn’t even call me Daddy. She doesn’t wear these simplistic, ugly colors. And she certainly doesn’t drink anything with honey. She’s been allergic since birth!”
Lyra’s lips parted. She couldn’t even form a coherent reply. This was a stupid idea. She should have tried getting specifics about Irene first.
Darius turned around sharply and faced her again. This time, he looked like he could swallow her whole. “Did you really think you could deceive me?” His voice had risen, vibrating with fury. “How did you dye your hair the exact shade? How did you make yourself look just like her?”
“I’m… it’s not what you think.”
“Is this sorcery? I heard that the witches in the human town can clone a person.”
Lyra struggled harder against the guards holding her, their grips tight and unyielding. “Please!” she begged, her voice trembling. “It’s me, Father! I’ve just been traumatized during the travel!”
Darius hissed, leaning dangerously close. “If you lie to me again, don’t think I won’t throw you to the sharks in my pool.”
Lyra went stiff. Sharks? Her mind raced. Did he really have sharks in his pool? The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine.
Darius’s face was mere inches from hers, every muscle taut with anger. “What did you do with my daughter?” he demanded.
Her throat went dry. “I didn’t do anything. I am Irene,” she stammered. And it wasn’t a lie entirely. She was wearing Irene’s body. She was Irene, but her soul wasn’t.
He laughed sharply, a cold, humorless sound. “I’m not stupid, young woman. I know an impostor when I see one.” Then he emptied his glass and picked up the bottle of honey.
“I had a long chat with Jacobson. He told me how you sent him out of your room last night. You think I don’t know how much my daughter liked him?”
Lyra gasped. The trap had been set long before she even realized it. Darius had outsmarted her.
“You disobeyed me every night,” he continued. “You frolicked with him in the garden every night despite all the guards I positioned outside your door. You jumped over your window to meet him, and yet I asked him to marry you today and you refused. That’s when I knew you weren’t my Irene.”
Her knees nearly buckled. Of course he would notice. How could I have been so reckless?
“My princess would never send her maids away,” Darius’s voice rose, almost a roar now, “or volunteer to come to war with me! She hates the sight of blood!”
Lyra shook her head violently. “Please! You have to believe me! It’s me!” she cried.
Darius’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I will believe you when you tell me the truth, young woman. And you have until tomorrow to do that.”
He turned abruptly to the guards. “Inform the soldiers they brought an impostor home. Send out troops to find my daughter again. This time, ensure it is Irene who is returned to me.”
Lyra bit her lip so hard she tasted the metallic tang of blood. They’ll never find her. She’s dead. There is no Irene. But she could not say that, not with the guards tightening their grip on her and Darius’s fury radiating like heat. If she spoke the truth, the sharks in the pool might become her end.
“Please, let me explain!” she begged, struggling against the firm hands holding her.
Darius shook his head, his jaw set. “At first, I thought you were simply tired and disturbed,” he said to her icily. “But now, I am certain you’re lying.”
He stepped closer, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. “Which pack sent you here? Who are you spying for? The Phantom Pack? They are always sending spies to do their dirty work, and a female, no less?”
Lyra trembled under his grip. “No one,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I swear, I’m not a spy.”
But he sneered right in her face and spat. “Make no mistake! You're looking at the most ruthless Alpha in all of Ashvale. I will break you, bit by bit. I will make sure you confess and I will enjoy every bit of it."
Lyra didn't know when tears rolled down her chin and she looked down. It was game over for her.
“I cannot stand the sight of you,” Darius growled and turned away from her.
“Take her to the solitary prison,” he commanded the guards. “Let me know when she is ready to confess.”
The men dragged Lyra roughly across the moonlit garden toward the solitary prison.