Chapter 19 He Wasn’t Supposed To Be There
Lyanna
The celebration sounded different from below.
Above, it was thunderous—bells pealing, voices crashing into one another, a city drunk on victory. Down here, the noise arrived warped by stone. Cheers collapsed into a constant hum. Music reduced to pulse.
I pressed my back to the wall and listened.
No guards.
I counted again, breath held. No boots. No clipped voices. No keys. The pen was empty of monitoring, abandoned for spectacle and ceremony. Exactly as I had hoped.
But I stayed careful.
Opportunity was a dangerous thing. It made people reckless.
My hand settled over my belly, fingers splayed, grounding myself. Careful—not for my sake, but for the life curled beneath my ribs. One mistake down here wouldn’t end in bruises. It would end in silence.
Still.
This was the first real opening I’d seen since being dragged into Drakovia.
My gaze lifted to the far wall.
Vines crawled down the stone in stubborn lines—old growth, thick and dry, forgotten. Strong enough, if I was careful.
I swallowed and moved.
I tested the lowest vine, then another. Solid. I adjusted my stance, measured distance and height, the angle I’d need to clear. My body remembered this—rooftops, tree branches, walls climbed in quieter, peaceful places.
Fear sharpened the memory instead of dulling it.
If I get over, I thought, I’ll disappear.
Not immediately safe. But enough to change the circumstances.
Would he notice again?
The thought slid in uninvited.
My grip tightened as I shook my head.
no need for such thoughts.
My foot found a foothold. I climbed slowly, muscles burning, breath shallow. Stone scraped my palms. Dust flaked into my hair. I kept my breathing shallow, my weight close to the wall.
Then suddenly—
Footsteps.
Fast. Heavy. Too close. Someone was running over to me.
My heart slammed into my throat.
No—
I twisted, searching wildly for a place to hide, for shadow, for—
The vine shifted and my foot slipped.
My hand tore free with a sharp, burning scrape. Weightlessness ripped the breath from my lungs as the world tilted violently.
I folded instinctively, arms curling over my belly as I fell. Terror eclipsed thought. I shut my eyes, bracing for stone, for pain, for the sickening knowledge that I’d been careless—
I didn’t hit the ground.
Arms caught me—hard, solid, wrapping fully around my torso. The impact knocked the air from my lungs but stopped me cold.
I gasped, fingers digging into unfamiliar fabric as the jolt went through both of us.
Alive.
My heart thundered.
My hands flew to my belly, frantic. No pain. No blood. Nothing wrong.
Marek— I thought, relief already cresting—
Then I felt it.
Two arms.
Strong. Whole.
Marek only had one.
My eyes flew open.
Elias.
He had me—one arm locked around my back, the other under my knees—holding me off the ground. His face was inches from mine, fury and shock laid bare, something sharp and visceral burning underneath.
“Are you insane?” he hissed, the words low and furious, his breath warm against my face.
His grip tightened reflexively.
I felt the tremor in him before I saw it.
I stared at him.
Wide-eyed. Shaking. One hand still pressed to my belly, the other fisted in his cloak like I’d fallen into the world’s only solid thing.
Why was he here?
My shock must have read wrong.
“Oh—” he muttered, swearing under his breath.
He shifted, setting me on my feet but not letting go. One arm stayed firm across my back, anchoring me upright as if I might bolt or collapse.
Then his hand moved.
Sharp. Furious.
He signed at me rapidly, movements cutting the air.
What were you thinking?
Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?
You could have fallen. You could have—
His hands faltered for half a second, hovering near my midsection before snapping back up, angrier now.
You’re hurt?
Answer me.
My shock bled into soft confusion.
My breathing steadied as I watched his hands fly—scolding, frantic in a way that startled me. He looked… rattled. Not annoyed.
Afraid.
For me.
why?
He signed again, more slowly this time, as if restraining himself.
You are not invisible.
You don’t get second chances here.
I swallowed, lowering my gaze deliberately. My fingers loosened on his cloak.
Why was he here?
He was supposed to be upstairs—basking in applause, drinking wine, indulging in all the things men like him did.
Not here.
Not catching me when I fell.
I bit my lip. How did I explain what I was doing now?
I watched his expression harden.
"Strange." The word were said aloud. “You’re strange.”
My stomach dropped.
Then his hands came up again, movements tight and abrupt.
You do not behave or react like the others.
You disappear from your assigned place.
You climb walls.
His jaw clenched.
That means something is wrong.
My breath hitched.
Wrong was a dangerous word here.
He stepped closer, crowding me back until the stone pressed cold against my shoulders.
“You’re coming with me,” he said quietly.
The certainty in his voice snapped something inside me.
No.
My head shook before I could stop it—once, twice, violently. My hands flew up, fingers trembling as I signed fast and messy.
Please.
Mercy.
I didn’t mean—
I won’t try again. I swear.
I bowed my head instinctively, every lesson of survival screaming at me to appease, to diminish.
His eyes flicked to my hands. Paused. Something unreadable crossed his face—confusion, maybe, or irritation sharpened by confirmation.
Before he could respond—
Footsteps approached.
The sound came from the far corridor—two sets, maybe three. Unhurried. Guards on a sweep while the city drowned itself in celebration.
Just my luck that guards would come now. What excuse would I give now?
My breath locked in my chest.
Elias reacted instantly.
He grabbed me—this time without hesitation—one hand closing around my wrist, the other catching me at the waist as he spun us both toward the wall. His body came in close, crowding my space completely, solid and immovable.
One arm braced against the stone above my head, the other firm at my side.
From the outside, it would look exactly like what it was meant to look like.
A noble alpha indulging himself.
My heart slammed so hard I was sure it would betray me.
“Stop moving,” he murmured.
I went still.
The guards rounded the corner. “Who’s there?” one called, tone already annoyed.
Elias didn’t tense. Didn’t step back. He lifted his head just enough for torchlight to catch his face.
Recognition hit immediately.
“—Lord Veras,” the guard blurted, straightening so fast his spear clattered. “Apologies, sir. We didn’t mean to—”
“Move along,” Elias said coolly.
The guard hesitated, eyes flicking—clearly searching for what he was blocking.
Elias’s arm tightened slightly at my waist.
“There’s nothing here that concerns you,” he continued. “Unless the council has started assigning escorts for private indulgences.”
A beat.
“I suggest you don’t mention this corridor again. Or what you thought you saw in it.”
The implication landed like a slap. My skin burned with mortification.
The guards flushed, mortified. “No, sir. Of course not, sir.”
Boots retreated quickly.
Silence stretched.
Only when the sound faded completely did Elias shift.
Not away—just enough to look down at me.
Up close, his control looked strained. His breathing was steady, but his pulse thudded visibly at his throat. One hand was still at my waist, fingers splayed as if he’d forgotten they were there.
I was acutely aware of it. The heat. The weight. The way my body had gone rigid beneath his hold.
Why wasn’t he moving away?
He dropped his hand abruptly, stepping back as though burned.
“That,” he said quietly, “was foolish.”
I almost nodded.
He exhaled through his nose, irritation threading through something darker. “I can't pretend to know what's going through that head of yours.”
He took another step back.
“If they'd been the ones to find you up there—” He stopped.
Something hot and unsettled twisted low in my gut.
He lifted his hands again, signing slower now.
You don’t climb walls here.
You don’t draw attention.
And you don’t lie badly.
I signed back carefully.
I thought they were gone.
I heard noise.
I wanted to see.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“That still doesn't make this any better,” he said, almost to himself.
The word hung between us, unfinished.
I studied him while he wasn’t watching my hands. The way his shoulders stayed tense. The way his gaze kept cutting toward the corridor entrance. The anger under his restraint—not aimed at me, I realised, but at something else.
I wondered if I could trust him with my plans outrightly. He seemed to have sought me out twice by himself now, both instances very close to each other.
I bit my lip, that was a large risk to take though.
“You’re coming with me,” he said suddenly, quieter this time.
My breath hitched. Fear flared sharp and cold.
If I left the pen, there would be questions.
Repercussions. Punishment for others.
My hands moved before I could stop them.
If I leave,
they’ll notice.
They’ll hurt the others.
His jaw tightened.
You’re already noticed. That’s the problem. Also, you just tried to leave. Where was your care for the others then?
Silence stretched. Thick. Uneasy.
What do I do now? I couldn't run from him, that would set my plans back too much.
Finally, he stepped back fully, armor sliding into place.
“For now,” he said, voice controlled again, “you stay where you are.”
Relief flickered—brief and fragile.
“But don’t test the walls again,” he added. “Not unless you’re prepared for what happens when I catch you.”
When.
Not if.
He turned to leave.
Then paused.
Without looking at me, he said quietly, almost unwilling, “You’re either very foolish… or very desperate. You won't last with those things.”
Then he was gone.
I stayed where I was long after the echoes of his footsteps died.
My heart still raced from the encounter.
Why did he let me go again? Not that I minded. It just felt strange. The man was an anomaly.
I rubbed ny hands together, grounding myself.
Whatever Elias Veras thought he was doing—
He had just stepped deeper into my escape.
Whether he knew that or not.