The night stretched endlessly as I tossed and turned in my bed, the weight of the revelations from the night pressing on my mind. His confirmation of his intention to marry me lingered like a haunting melody, a discordant note in the symphony of my thoughts. I couldn't fathom the reasons behind it, and the mystery only fueled my unease. Was it merely a ploy to manipulate me, to use my insignificant reputation as a pawn in his grand game?

I shook off those troubling thoughts, deciding not to dwell on the marriage proposal for now. My family's safety was paramount, and if playing the role of his bride was the price to ensure their well-being, then I would pay it. But I vowed to myself that I would not allow him to turn me into a puppet. I would navigate this dark dance with cunning and resilience.

As for his justifications for the attack and the devastation he unleashed, his logic sounded rational, but it didn't absolve him of the moral weight of his actions. The fear-inducing reputation that preceded him whispered warnings in my mind, cautioning me not to be swayed by his words and cunning demeanor. His tricks were as treacherous as the shadows that clung to him, and I must not let myself fall prey to the illusion of understanding.

The night wore on, each passing moment deepening the complexity of my situation. The echoes of his words resonated in the darkness, leaving me to grapple with the enigma that was the conqueror and the delicate situation I found myself entangled in.

The next day, I prepared myself to face him again, dressed in layers of nobility that seemed to constrict with each passing moment. The stubborn corset dug into my ribs, but I held my head high, a facade of grace masking the tension within. As we sat across from each other at the breakfast table on the balcony, he noticed my lack of appetite.

"Darling, I thought we had agreed to stop with the games," he remarked, his tone smooth but with a hint of irritation. I met his gaze with a steely resolve.

"You agreed to give me information, but what if I want more than that?" I asked, testing the boundaries of our agreement. His response was a sigh, a clear sign of annoyance.

"I will grant your every desire, little bird, so long as it is within my power and won't jeopardize your safety. What is it that you want?" he replied, his patience wearing thin.

"I want to see my family," I stated resolutely, laying my cards on the table. His displeased expression revealed the weight of my request. He didn't respond immediately, prompting me to push further.

"If my family is alright, surely it is within the king's mighty power to let me see them," I added, throwing his own words back at him, determined to use every tool at my disposal to ensure the safety of those I held dear. The balcony seemed to hold its breath as the tension between us escalated, the delicate balance of power shifting in the subtle currents of our conversation.

He couldn't outright refuse my request without betraying his own principles, and with a reluctant grit of his teeth, he finally conceded, "Fine. But this marks the end of your refusal to eat, agreed?" I nodded in acceptance, relieved that I would finally have the chance to see my family after days of separation.

"The palace is still dangerous. My most loyal man, Torin, will take you to your family later today," he informed me, a spark of excitement lighting up within me. His next revelation caught me off guard, though.

"Also, the whole wing is now thoroughly guarded, so you may roam it as you please," he declared, and the unexpected freedom shocked me.

Unable to resist a touch of sass, I couldn't help but quip, "You're finally releasing me from my cage?" The emphasis on his apparent imprisonment of me was deliberate, and it visibly upset him.

I couldn't understand why I kept poking at the bear, but some unspoken assurance told me that he wouldn't harm me. He had allowed me to get away with my antics so far. His response was sincere, a surprising admission that caught me off guard.

"I never meant to imprison you, love. The castle is a dangerous place at the moment, and things are fragile. I wanted to be sure that you were someplace well guarded and safe," he explained with a sigh, and for a moment, his words seemed to carry a genuine concern that hinted at a complexity beneath the surface.

After the parting with Malachi, the excitement to see my family surged within me. I waited impatiently, the anticipation growing with each passing moment. After what felt like an eternity, Torin, the man who had escorted Malachi the previous day, entered the room to retrieve me. I recognized him instantly. His features bore a striking resemblance to the king, suggesting a possible familial connection. Tan skin, dark hair—there was an uncanny similarity between them. Surprisingly, he didn't seem much older than me.

As he approached, Torin greeted me with a bow. "Greetings, I am Torin. It is an honor to meet the king's chosen." His words threw me off guard. Did he know about Malachi's absurd proposal? The unfamiliarity of his accent hinted at a foreign origin, a stark contrast to Malachi's deep, gruff voice, free of any discernible accent.

Remembering my manners, I awkwardly replied, "Um, hello. I am Elara."

Torin instructed me to stay close as he escorted me to my family. Surprisingly, the corridors we traversed were devoid of people, a stark contrast to the bustling palace life I had witnessed before. As we neared our destination, a familiar realization struck me—the original wing where my family resided. A comforting thought eased my apprehension—they hadn't been thrust into an unfamiliar atmosphere.

The doors opened, and my heart skipped a beat as the familiar living area unfolded before me. Maeve sat with a book, the twins engaged in their games on the floor—relief washed over me. They were okay. As I stepped inside, their heads turned, and the twins screamed, "Elara!" The three of them rushed towards me, engulfing me in a tight hug.

"Where in the world have you been? I've been worried sick. I had thought they'd..." Maeve's voice trailed off, and I understood the unspoken fear—she thought they had killed me.

"I am alright. I have been treated well. And you? How have you been treated?" I reassured her, stroking the twins' backs as they clung to me. Maeve made a disapproving sound, expressing her discontent with the entire situation.

"Well, after that awful night, we have just been kept here," she explained.

Relief coursed through me at her words, but then a concern crept in. "Where is Gareth?" I asked, my tone reflecting the worry that gripped me. Maeve's face saddened, and a shadow of uncertainty clouded her expression.

"We don't know. We haven't seen him since that night. We haven't been told anything, just had servants bring us food," she replied, her words hanging in the air like an ominous revelation. Where was Gareth? Was he okay? Did Malachi lie to me? The uncertainty tightened its grip, casting a shadow over the joy of our reunion.

The rest of the day unfolded in the comforting embrace of my sisters. I refrained from delving into the unsettling details of my situation, opting instead for a watered-down version of the truth—I was being kept somewhere else, but I was fine, and I had been granted permission to see them. I couldn't burden the twins with the weight of my circumstances.

I longed for a moment alone with Maeve, an opportunity to confide in her about the complexities that surrounded me, but the day slipped away, and the chance didn't present itself. Perhaps, I thought, another time would be more fitting.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Torin retrieved me once again, escorting me back to the wing. No dinner with the king tonight. No shared breakfast the next day. The yearning to confront him, to question him about Gareth, gnawed at me. The enigma of his intentions, the missing pieces of the puzzle, fueled my desire to peel back the layers of mystery surrounding Malachi and the fate of those I cared about.

Feeling a sense of restlessness and yearning for answers, I decided not to passively wait for Malachi's return. The servants were unaware of his schedule, leaving me in the dark about when I would see him again. Unwilling to be confined, I resolved to explore my newfound, albeit limited, freedom within the wing.

Room by room, I left no corner unexplored. The wing revealed itself as a realm of luxury and opulence, featuring libraries, music rooms, and bathing rooms that hinted at its purpose as the quarters meant for the royal family. Each room bore the imprint of a lavish lifestyle.

As I continued my exploration, I entered another bedroom. It felt different from the others, as if someone had recently occupied the space. My suspicions were confirmed when I noticed familiar belongings scattered around—Malachi's weapons. It seemed this was where he resided within the wing. A pang of guilt tugged at me; it felt wrong to snoop, but he had granted me permission to roam the wing, and he was nowhere to be found. Curiosity overcame hesitation as I took in the details of the room, searching for clues that might unravel the mystery surrounding him and, perhaps, shed light on the whereabouts of Gareth.

Despite the guilt that gnawed at me, curiosity compelled me to enter full snoop mode. The room, undoubtedly fit for a king, exuded an air of opulence and regality. However, I could discern that many of the ostentatious details and decorations had been removed—likely at Malachi's command. He didn't need gaudy embellishments; his presence alone was enough to command attention.

As I wandered through the room, I couldn't help but marvel at the restrained power that emanated from the space. Malachi was unlike any royalty I had encountered before. It wasn't the gold or the soldiers that defined his authority; it was an inherent, undeniable force that seemed to linger within him. The realization settled within me: he didn't need anything to assert his dominance.

But as my thoughts veered towards admiration, a mental alarm reminded me of the harsh reality. Malachi, for all his enigmatic charm, had killed many people. The stark contrast between the charismatic ruler and the merciless conqueror created a tumultuous internal struggle, a constant reminder that the allure of power could conceal darker truths.

As I continued my clandestine exploration of Malachi's room, I noted the surprising scarcity of personal belongings. Instead, the space was adorned with an abundance of weapons and warrior's attire. It struck me that, while he possessed the trappings of a conqueror, he seemed to lack the extensive wardrobe one might associate with royalty.

My thoughts drifted to the courtly expectations and noble clothing that had shaped my own life. The image of a ruler seated on the throne, adorned in regal garments, was a familiar and expected sight. Yet, as I observed Malachi's room, it became clear that he operated by a different set of principles. The battlefield, not the court, seemed to be his natural habitat.

A realization dawned upon me—he might not care about the intricacies of courtly expectations and the grandeur of noble attire. His authority stemmed from a different source, one that resonated more with the clash of swords than the murmur of courtly conversations. In the face of such a stark departure from tradition, I questioned whether my own adherence to courtly norms had been a futile pursuit all along.

My heart raced as I continued examining the belongings in Malachi's room. Engrossed in studying the intricate carvings of a particular knife, I was startled by a deep voice that cut through the air. "Perhaps you are a sly fox rather than a little bird." I turned, my eyes meeting Malachi's hulking figure leaning against the doorway. Time seemed to freeze, and my heart stopped—I had been caught snooping.

I swallowed hard, the weight of guilt settling in. Despite the kindness he had shown me thus far, I recognized that this was a violation of his privacy. The knowledge that punishment was inevitable loomed over me, casting a shadow on the hitherto serene atmosphere of the room.