They all exchanged glances and her eyes narrowed as she looked at them and saw the way they were looking at her, but she said nothing and simply ignored their nonsense, since it was too much for her to even bother about.
All her mind was focused on, was the situation she was currently in, stuck with nowhere out and no one else to talk to. It was not a nice feeling, especially given the fact she had only just lost the light of her life, the one person that made her smile, made her day worth all of the trouble.
Yet now that he was gone, he was being shunned aside like he had never even existed and that burned into her chest.
She turned to Darian slowly. "You live here... alone?"
He gave a faint smile. "No woman has ever been brought here before, well, not to stay with me at least, not to live under the same roof and share the same bed."
"Why me? Why are you really doing this, especially given our history together?" She asked, her voice low yet tinged with caution.
His smile widened. But it wasn't kind.
"Because you are not like the others. And because I don't share what's mine."
She rolled her eyes at his words and took a deep breath before she stood up straight, her gaze firm and her head held high. Even if she was uneasy, she curled through her.
The wind here felt different—heavier, colder, like it carried secrets in its teeth.
Inside, the halls were cavernous. The décor was not minimalist, and each came with its own refined taste, ones that screamed rich. As she walked, she looked at the black marble floor. Gold accents. Ancestral portraits with eyes that followed.
As she was walking not far from him, she heard a voice—an older woman—whisper behind her as she passed.
"She doesn't know… does she?"
Another voice, low and fearful.
"She will."
Her steps slowed. Her skin prickled, as she wondered what they were talking about and what she had just walked into.
When she glanced back, no one was there.
Darian was already waiting at the grand staircase.
"This will be our home from now on, so welcome home," He said simply.
She wanted to say it was not her home; the only home she had was with the man that had recklessly risked his life to save hers.
She wanted to tell him this place would never be hers.
But something in the way he looked at her, like he already knew all her resistance would fail, made her jaw clench instead.
As she ascended the stairs, she realized something bone-deep.
This wasn't a marriage.
This was a war.
And she had just entered his kingdom alone and that was not a good move; deep down she knew he was still a predator by instinct, despite the way he looked and the smile he just gave.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward, it would be best to follow and see where this goes.
"Follow me; I will not bite you, not yet at least," He said as he walked away, heading upstairs and she followed him, her gaze wandering.
He took her up to her room, which was the place she would be staying, but it was beautiful, which only made it a lot worse.
Ivory curtains billowed in the wind. Candles flickered in golden sconces. The bed looked like it had been carved for royalty—black sheets, dark wood, and silk pillows arranged too perfectly.
It was a gilded cage. And she hated how quiet it was.
No traffic. No distant sirens. Just silence so thick it felt alive.
She wandered toward the far door, her instincts twitching.
It didn't lead to a bathroom. Or a closet.
It was locked.
Of course.
She tried the handle once more, firm, unbudging. Then she crouched, tried to peek through the keyhole, but something cold rushed down her spine the moment she leaned in.
She wasn't alone.
Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling corner, where the shadows deepened. Watching. Breathing.
She straightened.
"Subtle," she muttered. "Creepy, but subtle."
She was about to turn back to the bed when she saw it.
A note.
Tucked neatly on the pillow.
She picked it up, frowning. No handwriting. Just printed words:
"Do not leave your room after midnight.
"Do not open any door he says is locked."
"You're the first. And you may be the last."
Her pulse quickened at the words on the notes and her brows furrowed; to her, it did not make too much sense.
No signature. It was just that sickening sense of being toyed with.
She turned toward the window, ready to throw the note into the fire—
And saw him standing in the courtyard below.
Darian.
Hands in his pockets, head tilted up at her like he knew she read the warning that was in her room and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He looked like he had left it for her himself.
She narrowed her eyes.
He smirked.
Then walked away.
"Infuriating jerk, he is just like he was back then, maybe even darker. I should just slap him silly; maybe he will wake up properly," She muttered then turned away and took a deep breath.
For now, she knew she had to settle in, for there was not much for her to do as yet.
It was now just a silent waiting room. Like a mausoleum dressed in silk.
She kicked off her shoes, half-expecting the floors to creak under her steps. They did not. Of course not. Not in a house like this.
Her fingers ran along the edge of the vanity, where gold-trimmed perfumes sat unopened, untouched. Each bottle was labeled with her name, custom-engraved. As if they'd known she'd be here.
As if they had been preparing.
"Creepy psychos and their twisted hospitality," she muttered.
She opened the wardrobe. Everything fit her size. Her colors. Her taste. Some pieces she recognized from brands she'd liked online but never bought.
She slammed it shut.
It was one thing to be abducted into an arranged marriage.
It was another thing to realize they'd studied her.
Her entire body bristled as she paced the room again, restless and boiling.