Chapter 9 - Scheming to Flee

The dinner table was quiet. Her father hadn’t joined her tonight, an absence she welcomed with relief. 

Recently he had insisted on having at least one meal at the dining room and Ayra has designated that time to dinner. 

Usually, it was a silent and uncomfortable affair but tonight both he and Lisbeth were blessedly absent. 

Lucian’s men, stationed in the shadows of the room, observed her silently as she picked at her meal. 

Her appetite was gone, the tension in her chest rendering the savory dishes bland and lifeless.

Her hand brushed against the paper hidden in her pocket. She had carried it all day, its weight more mental than physical. 

She knew she needed help, but was reluctant to accept it. 

The serving maid entered quietly - a different girl from the one that afternoon - her presence going disregarded by anyone else. 

Ayra glanced up and caught her eye. The woman hardly reacted and placed a fresh plate on the table, a thin layer of steam curling from the baked dessert in its center.

Ayra’s heart raced. She forced herself to remain calm, lifting her fork to take a slow, deliberate bite. 

She chewed slowly, counting to five in her head before putting the fork down. Her hand, trembling slightly, reached into her pocket and slipped out the folded paper.

Sliding it across the table as discreetly as she could, Ayra muttered, “Take this.”

The maid’s hands were quick. In a blink, the paper was gone, replaced by a small, slim object that the maid dropped quickly into Ayra’s lap.

“Napkin, miss?” the maid asked. 

Ayra nodded and the woman pulled out a napkin, sliding something quickly into it.

“There’s also something else for you—don’t open it here,” she murmured without moving her lips. 

The maid didn’t linger. She retrieved Ayra’s empty plate and turned to leave. 

Ayra glanced down, careful to hide her reaction. Tucked beneath the pristine white napkin lay a folded A4-size paper and a cheap, black cellphone no larger than her palm.

Her fingers brushed against the items, her mind racing as she slipped them into the inner pocket of her gown. 

She felt the steady gaze of Lucian’s men on her back as she resumed eating, her movement deliberate and lethargic like it usually was.

By the time dinner was over, Ayra’s pulse was erratic. It wasn’t until she returned to her room, the door locking behind her with a quiet click, that she let herself breathe and collapsed to the floor. 

More than her father's anger, she feared what Lucian would do if he suspected she was rebelling.

She retrieved the phone and the paper, sitting on the edge of her bed as she examined them under the soft glow of her bedside lamp.

The phone was simple and outdated, with no features beyond the basic call and text functions. She opened the folded paper next, her breath hitching as she studied it.

It was an aerial photograph, clearly taken from a drone or plane. The image depicted a sprawling estate surrounded by dense trees, its architecture modern but imposing. 

Blue dots were spread around the picture and at first glance there was seemingly no rhyme to them. 

On the flip side of the paper was a series of letters and numbers. At first glance, Ayra recognized it as a simple cipher she had learnt from her aunt. 

The instructions were clear enough. She had to call Eleanor, and she had to do it soon. However common sense told her to wait until midnight to ensure nobody discovered her. 

Ayra exhaled. 

---

The hours crawled by as Ayra sat on her bed, staring at the phone. The mansion was quiet. 

The kind of oppressive silence that made every creak of the floorboards sound deafening. She waited until the phone showed half-past one, her nerves frayed and her patience thin.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed the power button. The phone vibrated faintly as it turned on, the screen lighting up with a plain interface. 

No texts, no contacts, just a keypad waiting for her to use.

She decided the coded message a second time, and dialed the number written on the folded paper, her fingers trembling with each press of a button. 

It rang once, twice, three times before a voice answered.

“Hello?”

It was Eleanor. 

“It’s me,” Ayra whispered, careful not to alert the guards standing just beyond her door. “I got your message.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a soft exhale. “Good. Did anyone see you?”

“No,” Ayra said. “I don’t think so.”

“Good, good,” Eleanor repeated. “Listen carefully. You don’t have much time, and neither do I.”

Ayra gripped the phone tighter, her heart pounding in her chest.

“The photograph I sent you is the planned wedding venue,” Eleanor explained. “It is known as the Gardene L'Villais. 

The blue dots represent the guard positions during the event. I will send you more detailed information on how to avoid them later.”

Understanding dawned on Ayra. Since she could not flee from the mansion, with it being too guarded, her only other option was to flee from the wedding. 

"How did you get your hands on this?" Ayra asked, stupefied. 

"I have my ways," her aunt chuckled. 

“But, on the other hand, how would I pull it off?” Ayra asked. “I can’t even leave my room without being watched and I doubt that would change much even during the wedding.”

Eleanor’s voice softened, but it lost none of its urgency. “There is a way. I'll send you more details over the next few days. Just trust me, understand?”

“Yes,” Ayra said, though the word felt like a lie. She was going to flee her wedding. Risque. 

“One more thing,” Eleanor added, her tone growing serious. “Lucian is not like the others. Be careful around him.”

Ayra frowned, her grip on the phone tightening. “What do you mean?”

“Of course, you already know, but I have to stress that he is… dangerous,” Eleanor said, hesitating for the first time. 

“More than you realize. If you think for a second that he doesn’t already suspect something, you’re underestimating him far too much.”

Ayra’s stomach churned. 

She’d always known Lucian wasn’t an ordinary man, but the way Eleanor spoke made her feel as though she was walking into a trap she couldn’t even see. It sent shivers down her spine. 

“If Lucian is so dangerous, Aunt, then why are you even helping me?” Ayra asked suddenly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

There was a long pause on the other end, so long that Ayra thought the call had dropped. Then Eleanor spoke, her voice softer than before.

“Because I could not help your mother,” she said simply.

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. 

Ayra’s throat tightened, her mind racing with questions she didn’t dare ask. She did not think she wanted to know the answer to those questions. 

“Once the call is dropped, this cellphone will self-destruct. Drop it into the toilet and flush immediately I end the call. Understand?" Her aunt said. 

"What? Self-destruct?" Ayra asked, confused. 

"Ayra, toilet. Now," Eleanor pressed. "We can't have our call traced, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Ayra blurted out, making her way to the toilet. 

"Okay. Take care."

The line went dead, and Ayra scrambled to punt the phone into the toilet. 

It sparked dangerously as it met the water, smoking ominously, and Ayra immediately pulled the handle and flushed it down.