I saw the fear evident in their eyes as they rose to their feet. Luckily, though, they were already done cleaning my room. Natasha apologized for the “break in transmission”—her words, not mine. They bade me goodbye and rushed out of my room, giggling softly.
It was obvious they were afraid of getting caught in my room, laughing and talking with me. Didn’t that mean they were also prisoners?
Over the past few days, I’d wandered the mansion and its endless corridors in search of another way out. However, the only things I found were secrets behind closed doors and rooms filled with maps and weapons.
I discovered that, unlike the maids, the guards weren’t afraid of my jailer. They revered him as if he were some kind of demigod. Although I couldn’t understand why, I also couldn’tdeny that the quiet reverence his soldiers had for me was rather remarkable.
This was his turf—and here, he was king, lord over his people, the kind that shouldn’t be messed with.
***
The polished marble floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I strolled over to the library to keep my mind busy. I opened the door and walked in, the chandelier’s soft light enveloping me.
The library was a cozy sanctuary, a bibliophile’s paradise with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. There was a crackling fireplace on the right side of the room and a massive wooden desk by the window across from the door.
A small smile played on my lips as I drank in the sight of the books meticulously arranged on the shelves. In my head, I was ready to spend the whole day in here, feeding my mind.
Burying myself in these books was the quickest and most efficient way to escape my reality. Since my physical body couldn’t leave this cursed place, my mind might as well travel into the different worlds enclosed within these pages.
I strolled down the aisle between two giant bookshelves, the scent of aged paper wafting through the air. My eyes scanned the books, fingers tracing the edges of the leather-bound covers—reds, blacks, and browns, dulled by time.
I stopped when one caught my eye. The golden letters read,The Art of Deception. My brows knitted together, accentuating the interest flickering in my gaze. I reached out, took it off the shelf, and flipped through the pages.
I was still observing this book when I spotted another that drew me in,The Power of Control. And another,Empires Built on Blood.
Based on their titles, these books must hold secrets known only to a few. No wonder my jailer was such a powerfulman. I reached out to withdraw the other two and tried balancing them all in one arm.
However, I was a bit clumsy, and the top two slipped, tumbling to the floor with a heavythud.
“Shit,” I hissed under my breath as the noise cut through the stillness of the room.
The library wasn’t just silent—it was dead quiet. Like a cemetery.
I crouched, picking them off the floor one after the other. And that’s when his voice startled me: gentle, smooth, and teasing.
“Careful, little scholar. We don’t want you waking the ghosts.”
My pulse shot up to my throat, and I yelped at the sudden, unexpected sound. “Jesus Christ!” The books dropped to the floor again as my hand darted to my chest.
I didn’t think there was anyone else in here with me, let alone him. My friggin’ jailer.
He towered over me, a smug smirk playing on his lips. His jet-black hair caught the chandelier’s soft light, and his piercing blue eyes pinned me.
My face twisted into a frown as I straightened my spine and glared at him. “Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?” I folded my arms across my chest.
He drew closer, his voice laced with dry humor. “Only those who are where they aren’t supposed to be.”
I yanked my brows. “It’s a library—everyone’s allowed in here.” My scowl deepened.
He stopped in his tracks, flashing that pesky smirk of his that I hated so much. “It’smyhouse,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I decide who’s allowed anywhere.”
My jaw locked, but I said nothing.
His eyes glanced at the books on the floor before returning to my face. “Those don’t have pictures in them,” he said.
“Excuse me?” My expression turned ugly, offended by his subtle insult.
“These books are a little advanced for you,” he said. “They require a certain…comprehension of strategy. Not many can grasp what those pages are really about.”
