The ride was long, cold, and silent.
Elena sat on one of the soldiers' horses, her wrists bound with thick leather straps. The soldier behind her hadn't spoken a word, but his grip was tight—almost painfully so—reminding her with every step that she was not a guest.
She was a prisoner.
The trees began to thin, giving way to towering stone walls and iron gates. Beyond them rose a massive black fortress, cut directly into the mountainside. It loomed like a sentinel, surrounded by thick mists that never seemed to lift. Torches flickered on high ramparts, and guards patrolled with alert, practiced ease.
"Elentaire Keep," the soldier behind her muttered, as if reading her thoughts. "The Sword King's stronghold."
So it was true.
She had not only returned from death—she had landed directly in the territory of one of the most feared men in the realm.
And he was riding just ahead of her.
Lucien Valerius.
He hadn't spoken again since ordering her to come. He hadn't even looked at her. But even in silence, he radiated a presence that was impossible to ignore—like a storm waiting to break.
When they finally passed through the iron gates, Elena was dismounted and led inside.
The corridors were austere—dark stone, high arches, and no decorative tapestries. Everything was built for war, not comfort. No frills. No warmth.
Just like the man who ruled it.
Lucien gave a brief nod, and the guards brought her into a high-ceilinged chamber with a long table at its center. At the far end was a single black chair. A throne in all but name.
He sat.
The doors closed behind them with a hollow boom.
"Remove her bindings," he said, his tone clipped.
The soldiers hesitated.
"I said remove them," he repeated, colder now.
They obeyed, untying her wrists. Elena rubbed the red marks silently, unsure whether to thank him or not.
"You're not a peasant," he said at last.
It wasn't a question.
"No," she admitted. "I was… born noble. But my house fell. Long ago."
His eyes narrowed. "Your speech, your posture, your hands—they betray your upbringing. Yet you claimed not to remember your house."
"I didn't lie," she said quickly. "I meant I don't remember which house I belonged to. Only fragments. Faces. Emotions."
It wasn't a complete lie. In this body, she remembered things she never lived—and had forgotten things she once knew.
"You were found unconscious with a sword no one has wielded in over a decade," Lucien said. "That blade belonged to my brother."
She stiffened.
Brother?
"I didn't steal it," she said. "I woke up with it at my side."
"How convenient," he said flatly.
He rose, walking toward her slowly.
Lucien was tall, his movements precise. Every step he took felt deliberate—as if nothing he did was ever accidental.
"I don't believe in fate," he said. "Or miracles. I believe in consequences. So you will answer this: how did a dead man's sword end up in your hands?"
"I told you—I don't know. Maybe this is some kind of mistake, or magic, or—"
"Magic?" He stopped just short of her. "Do you think invoking fairy tales will protect you here?"
Elena swallowed hard. "No. But I'm not lying."
He studied her then, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable.
"You remind me of someone," he murmured, almost to himself.
Then it vanished. The cold mask returned.
"You'll stay in the East Wing," he said. "You're not free to leave, but you'll be treated as a guest—for now. You will not leave the castle grounds. If you try, I won't be so merciful next time."
"So I'm a prisoner," she said.
"A watched guest," he corrected. "Prove your innocence, and perhaps your cage will open."
She narrowed her eyes. "And if I can't?"
"Then you'll serve your purpose in other ways," Lucien said simply.
He turned away.
The guards moved to escort her again, but she stood still, her voice soft but steady.
"Lucien," she said.
He paused.
She saw his shoulders stiffen slightly at the use of his name.
"I may not remember everything," she said, "but I know what injustice feels like. I've died once already because of it."
He looked over his shoulder. "Then try not to make the same mistake again."
And with that, he vanished into the shadows of his keep.