The thought returned.
She should escape. At least, she should find out whether she could.
But her leg was injured.
And even if it were not, where would she go?
She had no safe home in the capital.
No money.
No idea where Liriel was.
And, unfortunately, no understanding of the enormous city beyond the places she had already visited.
Ivelle sighed.
Perhaps escaping immediately was not the smartest decision.
That did not mean she would remain forever.
No.
She simply needed answers first.
She needed to know whether Zelos intended to keep her here.
She needed to know why Maris pitied her.
She needed to know why the dresses had already been prepared.
And most importantly, she needed to find Liriel.
Her eyes slowly narrowed.
Perhaps dinner would give her an opportunity.
People talked during dinner.
At least, normal people did.
Zelos might simply sit across from her and answer every question with one word.
That possibility immediately irritated her.
Still, she had to try.
Ivelle pushed herself from the bed.
Her leg protested immediately.
She ignored it.
"Elara," she called toward the door.
The response came almost immediately.
The door opened.
"Yes, Lady Ivelle?"
Ivelle stared at her.
"How long until dinner?"
Elara blinked.
"Not long, Lady Ivelle."
Ivelle nodded thoughtfully.
Then she looked toward the door beyond the young maid.
"Can I go downstairs?"
Elara seemed surprised.
"Downstairs?"
"Yes."
Ivelle’s eyes moved toward the enormous room.
"I have been inside this room for what feels like an entire lifetime."
"It has only been a few hours."
Ivelle slowly turned toward her.
"That does not make me feel better."
Elara’s lips twitched.
Ivelle pointed toward the corridor.
"I would prefer to wait downstairs."
The maid hesitated.
"Would you like me to bring dinner here instead?"
"No." The answer came immediately.
Ivelle did not want another meal alone inside a room that was beginning to feel increasingly unfamiliar.
"I want to see the dining room."
Elara considered her for a moment before finally nodding.
"Very well, Lady Ivelle."
Ivelle’s eyes brightened slightly.
"Good."
She took one step.
Then another.
Elara immediately moved closer.
Ivelle stopped.
The maid stopped too.
They stared at one another.
"Why are you following me like that?" Ivelle asked.
"Because your leg is injured."
"I am aware."
Elara remained beside her.
Ivelle sighed.
"Fine."
Together, they left the room.
The journey downstairs was considerably slower than the journey upward had been earlier, although Ivelle was secretly grateful for that. Descending the stairs with an injured leg required more attention than climbing them, and she quickly discovered that pretending she was perfectly fine became increasingly difficult when Elara was standing beside her, prepared to catch her every time she moved awkwardly.
The mansion was quieter now.
The corridors that had seemed mysterious during the afternoon had changed beneath the approaching evening. Lamps had been lit along the walls, casting a warm glow across the polished floors and paintings. Servants moved quietly through different parts of the house, some carrying trays while others attended to duties Ivelle could not identify.
Every person she saw seemed to know exactly where they were going.
Ivelle, on the other hand, had absolutely no idea where anything was.
She suddenly felt very much like an intruder.
Perhaps that was because she was one.
The thought made her lips press together.
When they finally reached the dining room, Ivelle slowed.
The room was enormous.
Of course it was.
Everything inside Zelos Mortum’s house seemed designed to make ordinary things feel unnecessarily grand.
A long table stretched through the center of the room beneath a chandelier that glittered softly above them. Several chairs were arranged neatly around it, enough to seat far more people than were currently present.
Ivelle stared at the empty chairs.
Then at the table.
Then back at Elara.
"Does he usually eat alone?"
Elara immediately became cautious.
Ivelle sighed.
"Forget I asked."
The maid visibly relaxed.
Ivelle walked toward one of the chairs near the center of the table and sat down.
A servant soon appeared with food, and Ivelle stared at the meal placed before her with slight disbelief.
It was more food than she could possibly eat.
There was soup.
Fresh bread.
Meat prepared with herbs.
Vegetables.
And a small dessert she had absolutely no intention of pretending she did not want.
Ivelle looked toward Elara.
The maid remained standing a respectful distance away.
"Sit."
Elara blinked.
"What?"
"Sit."
"Lady Ivelle, I cannot."
"Why not?"
Elara looked toward the empty chairs.
"Servants do not sit and eat with the lord’s guests."
Ivelle stared at her.
"What kind of rule is that?"
"The rules of this house."
"That is an absurd rule."
Elara’s eyes widened slightly.
Ivelle leaned back.
"It is."
The young maid looked as though she wanted to laugh but was not entirely certain whether doing so would get her into trouble.
Ivelle pointed toward the chair beside her.
"There is enough food."
"Lady Ivelle—"
"Elara."
The maid stopped.
Ivelle gave her what she hoped was a convincing look.
"Please."
For several seconds, Elara hesitated.
Then she shook her head.
"I am sorry. I cannot."
Ivelle stared at the chair.
Then at the maid, then back at the chair.
"That chair is going to feel very lonely."
Elara’s lips twitched again.
Ivelle noticed.
"Did you almost laugh?"
"No."
"You did."
"I did not."
"You definitely did."
Elara looked down.
Ivelle smiled despite herself.
Perhaps the girl was not going to tell her Zelos’s secrets.
But at least she could make her smile.
The meal continued, and as Ivelle ate, she found herself occasionally glancing toward the entrance.
Zelos still had not appeared.
At first, she told herself that he was simply busy.
Then she began wondering what exactly could keep someone busy inside their own home.
Then she wondered whether he had intentionally avoided dinner with her.
The thought irritated her more than it should have.
After everything that had happened, was he simply going to leave her alone?
Ivelle placed her spoon down.
"Where is he?"
Elara immediately looked toward her.
Ivelle sighed.
"Forget it."
She was beginning to understand that asking questions about Zelos inside his own house was apparently similar to asking people to step willingly into a fire.
By the time she finished eating, the room had grown darker outside the windows.
Night had arrived.
Ivelle leaned back in her chair.
She was full.
Tired.
And still completely confused.
Wonderful.
She looked toward Elara.
"I want to take a walk."
The maid immediately shook her head.
"No."
Ivelle blinked.
"No?"
"No, Lady Ivelle."
"Why?"
Elara’s eyes moved meaningfully toward Ivelle’s injured leg.
Ivelle followed her gaze.
Then looked back at her.
"My leg is still attached to my body."
"It is injured."
"I can walk."
"Lord Zelos instructed that you should not place unnecessary pressure on it."
Ivelle stared.
"He said that?"
Elara nodded.
"He specifically told us to make sure you rested."
Ivelle slowly leaned forward.
"And if I do not?"
Elara hesitated.
Her expression changed.
Ivelle’s eyes narrowed.
"What?"
The young maid lowered her voice.
"Lord Zelos said that if I failed to take proper care of you, I would be punished."
Ivelle immediately straightened.
"What?"
Elara looked uncomfortable.
"He did not say what kind of punishment."
Ivelle stared at her.
The irritation she had been feeling suddenly changed into guilt.
Elara was the one who would suffer if Ivelle decided to behave recklessly.
That was not fair.
She looked toward her injured leg.
Then toward Elara.
Then toward the corridor.
Her desire to walk slowly disappeared.
"Fine," she muttered.
Elara blinked.
"Fine?"
"I will not go for a walk."
The maid’s expression brightened with relief.
Ivelle pointed at her.
"But I am only agreeing because I do not want you being punished."
Elara nodded quickly.
"Thank you, Lady Ivelle."
Ivelle sighed.
The person who had brought her into this house was nowhere to be seen.
Zelos had carried her away from Blackthorn Row, taken her to a physician, brought her into his mansion, placed her inside his wing, and then disappeared.
What kind of person did that?
She did not know whether she wanted to strangle him or thank him.
Perhaps both.
Eventually, there was nothing left for Ivelle to do.
She could not walk.
She could not question Elara about Zelos.
She could not find Maris.
And she certainly could not wander around the mansion with everyone apparently prepared to report her movements to the mysterious lord who owned the place.
So she returned upstairs.
The journey back to her room felt longer than before.
Perhaps because she was tired.
Perhaps because she had spent the entire day experiencing enough strange events to fill an entire lifetime.
When she finally entered her room again, she immediately moved toward the bed.
Elara followed behind her.
Ivelle turned around.
"You are still following me."
The maid smiled faintly.
"I am attending to you."
"I am going to sleep."
"Then I will make sure you have everything you need before you do."
Ivelle stared at her.
This was becoming excessive.
Still, she allowed Elara to help arrange the room for the night.
The lamps were lowered.
The curtains were drawn partially across the windows.
Water was placed beside the bed.
And after ensuring that Ivelle’s injured leg was comfortable, Elara finally stepped back.
"Goodnight, Lady Ivelle," the young maid said softly.
Ivelle looked toward her.
"Goodnight, Elara."
The maid smiled before turning toward the door.
Ivelle watched her leave.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
For several minutes, Ivelle remained lying on the bed.
Then ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Her eyes opened.
She stared at the ceiling.
Absolutely not.
There was no way she was going to sleep.
Not with everything she had seen.
Not with everything she did not know.
And certainly not when there was an entire mansion outside her room waiting to be explored.
Ivelle slowly sat upright.
Her injured leg immediately reminded her that this was a terrible idea.
She ignored it.
Nobody would expect her to sneak around.
That was the advantage.
Everyone believed she was injured.
Everyone believed she was resting.