Chapter 53- Elias
I got lost.
Again.
At this point I genuinely believed the manor itself was doing it on purpose.
There were buildings meant to impress people, buildings meant to house people, buildings meant to show power, and then there was this place which seemed designed specifically to humble anyone arrogant enough to think they understood where they were going.
I had long since accepted that maps were suggestions here.
Hallways appeared where they did not belong.
Staircases led somewhere completely different depending on which direction you approached them from.
Corridors split for no reason. Entire wings somehow existed between rooms that absolutely should not have had enough space between them.
I hated this place.
I loved this place.
Mostly..
I hated this place.
Not because it was unpleasant.
Quite the opposite.
The manor was beautiful in a way that felt unfair.
It was warmer than the palace. Softer. Less interested in reminding people who owned it.
The walls breathed differently here. They held history without displaying it.
The furniture looked lived in. The servants spoke normally.
Children ran through hallways like they owned them. People laughed too loudly.
And yet..
I remained fully convinced the architect should have been arrested for creating this maze of doom.
I happened every time I entered certain sections of this building. I would tell myself confidently that this time would be different.
Then twenty minutes later I would be standing in front of a staircase I did not remember climbing while trying to determine whether I had accidentally entered another dimension.
Months ago I made the mistake of complaining about it.
My husband laughed.
Not smiled.
Not exhaled slightly harder than normal.
Actually laughed.
I had stared at him in betrayal because he had the audacity to look amused while I had spent nearly an hour trying to find a room that turned out to be directly above me. I had accused him of enjoying my suffering.
He said I was being dramatic.
Then, very unhelpfully, he admitted that he also hated the layout.
For one beautiful, shining moment, I felt validated.
Then Achille ruined it by explaining that the terrible design was intentional. I had stared at him and asked . "What kind of disturbed person intentionally builds a house no one can navigate?"
Achille looked around the hallway with the expression of a man judging the walls personally. "I cannot tell you who since this place is centuries old"
That was not an answer.
Unfortunately, Achille seemed to think it was. "This place holds secrets," he said calmly. "But it's Elias's job is to make sure they remain secrets."
"There are hidden doors behind hidden doors. Rooms behind rooms. Entire hallways that only exist if you already know they exist. Half this manor was built for people who should never know the other half exists."
"That is insane."
"Yes."
"You agree?"
"My love I know this place is a maze I've spent many years here ." Achille continued as if this was a perfectly normal conversation. "The easiest way to understand this place is to think like Elias." He paused Then added, "Which is unfortunate, because no sane person should ever attempt that."
I looked around again.
The warm wooden walls. The soft carpets. The sunlight spilling in through tall windows. The flowers in pretty little vases. The children laughing somewhere upstairs.
It all seemed welcoming.
Safe.
Almost sweet.
Achille had seen my expression because his face hardened and his voice became low and called as he issued a warning.
"Do not let him fool you."
I had looked at him close and confused
"Elias seems soft," he said. "He smiles. He jokes. He remembers birthdays. He lets children climb on him. He carries wounded animals in his coat."
His voice lowered.
"That does not make him harmless."
The hallway suddenly felt colder. I had watched as Achille's gaze moved slowly over the walls. "That man is no less of a monster than Veronica."
I blinked.
"The difference," he continued, "is that Veronica looks dangerous." He had paused for a second to think "Elias looks like he would offer you tea and go frolicking in the feilds."
I had not know what to say to that because I had seen Elias frolicking in the fields .
"The most poisonous plants are often the most beautiful, my love.
That is how they survive. They put in their pray giving them a false sense of comfort .
" My stomach had tightened at the time of his voice.
"This manor has carried secrets for generations.
Not because the house is clever. Houses are stone and wood. They do not keep secrets."
I had watched as his mouth slowly twitched.
"People do...And every generation," he said, far too casually, "one psychopath inherits the responsibility."
"...You say that like it is tradition."
"It is."
"That is horrifying."
"It is effective."
My husband had slowly learn a wall and shrugged. "You need someone intelligent enough manipulative enough to hide secrets from the Gods"
"Elias is not this secretly evil thing you describe ."
Achille looked genuinely offended. "My love."He had gestured to himself. "Elias raised me I am a direct representation of him"
That had stopped me Completely.
"There is a reason he became Captain," he said. "There is a reason my father trusted him with me and why I trust you with him.There is a reason an entire kingdom looks at Elias and sees a laughing uncle while soldiers look at him and stand straighter."
His had remained calm Far too calm.
"You think I became terrifying on my own?" I had not answer.
"He taught me diplomacy. Strategy. War. Negotiation.
Political restraint. How to read a room.
How to survive a court full of smiling enemies.
And how to kill how to torture how to destroy someone very soul.
Never underestimate a man who can discuss flower arrangements while citing someone flesh of their bone. "
"That is oddly specific."
"It happened many time ...Elias can kill you while joking with you," he said. "And if he likes you, he may even apologize for the inconvenience."
The silence that followed his words that day had sent a strange shiver down my spine.
"There is a reason Veronica can be herself with him...Because he does not fear what lives inside her," Achille had said. "He understands it."
"No. That is not true."
"What ever she has done I can assure you he's done worse" I had the back of my neck prickle.
"Veronica has demons," he continued. "Pain. Rage. Hate. Bloodlust when someone earns it." A faint, grim amusement had crossed his face. "Elias is not haunted by demons, my love He is one." Achille's voice had remained quiet. "Pray you never see him truly angry."
I thought of Elias laughing. Elias eating sweets. Elias teasing Achille until my husband looked seconds away from murder. Elias carrying children on his back. Elias smiling like the world was amusing and nothing could touch him.
Then Achille said, "When you were taken, there were twenty men in that camp.By the time Veronica arrived," he said, "there were nine. Do not let the fact that he lost an eye fool you. Elias did not lose that fight."
"He took eleven lives alone."
"And after?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"After," he said, "he slept beside the woman he loved without a tremor in his hand."
His voice dropped.
"No regret. No remorse. No nightmares...Only irritation that Veronica saw him bleeding that she had to finish the job."
"So yes," he had said. "This house is confusing. Yes, the doors are ridiculous. Yes, the layout was designed by a paranoid man with too many secrets and not enough supervision."
His had mouth twitched.
"But do not mistake madness for carelessness...Elias hides things because he knows exactly what should never be found."
Unfortunately, remembering my husband's warning about the manor did absolutely nothing to solve the very immediate and humiliating reality that I was still completely lost.
There is something uniquely irritating about possessing information that is technically useful but practically worthless.
Yes, my husband had explained that the manor was intentionally confusing.
Yes, he had informed me with alarming calmness that entire sections of the estate existed specifically to remain unfound.
Yes, he had explained hidden hallways, concealed rooms, false doors, and generations of deeply concerning people dedicating their lives to making sure other people stayed exactly where they were meant to stay.
That knowledge was fascinating.
That knowledge did not tell me where Elias's office was.
I stood in the middle of an unfamiliar corridor and slowly turned in a circle while pretending I knew what I was doing.
The problem with getting lost repeatedly is that eventually pride becomes involved.
At first, you admit defeat quickly. By the third wrong turn, however, something irrational begins happening inside your brain.
You stop trying to find your destination and start trying to prove to yourself that you are not lost.
I was currently somewhere between denial and arrogance. I stared down one hallway Then another.
Then looked behind me Nothing looked familiar.
No giant staircase.
No ridiculous decorative armor.
No windows I recognized.No oversized vase that seemed determined to trip someone eventually.
Interesting.
Concerning.
But mostly irritating.
I sighed and rested one hand beneath my stomach while glaring suspiciously at the walls. Before I continued walking.
The strange thing was that I should have been frustrated.
Instead I felt strangely happy.
Because I was walking.
That sounded ridiculous even inside my own head. But after weeks in the castle under constant supervision of physicians and bed rest and people discussing my body like a military emergency and measuring how much food I consumed each day
walking felt magical.
Not elegant.
Certainly not graceful.
Pregnancy and recovery had apparently formed a military alliance against my dignity.
I waddled Slowly but With determination.
One hand remained beneath my stomach while the other occasionally pressed against the wall whenever my balance betrayed me. Every few minutes I stopped to rest. Sometimes I sat near windows. Sometimes I admired paintings. Sometimes I simply stood still because I could.
Nobody followed me.
That still felt strange.
At the palace I could not sneeze without three people asking if I needed medical intervention.
Here people simply nodded.
Children ran.
Servants smiled.
People moved around me naturallyNobody hovered Nobody stared Nobody looked at me like I might collapse if left unattended for ten minutes.
I had not realized how exhausting constant concern had become until nobody gave it to me.
Maybe I took wrong turns intentionally.
being lost felt better than being confined.
Eventually
something changed.
At first it was subtle enough that I almost missed it.
The upper levels of the manor always felt warm. Sunlight spilled through enormous windows. Soft rugs covered polished floors. Books sat carelessly stacked. Flowers appeared everywhere. Children moved openly and loudly. Somewhere in the distance there was always fresh bread.
Down here
the warmth remained.
But differently.