Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

Elara let out a stunned breath. "Wow," was all she said.

Caspian's expression softened at the sound of her voice, the hard edge of his demeanor fading. He moved back to the table, picking up his wine glass—these were made of glass like the ones she was used to instead of the goblets used everywhere else—and swirling the deep red liquid thoughtfully. "I apologize if that startled you," he said quietly, taking his seat. "I expected the king to send someone and I expected whoever was sent would be rude, but I didn't expect them to be so blatantly disrespectful." He let out a sigh. "I'd like to say I'll make sure this never happens again, but within the palace, the whore's son must constantly be reminded of his place."

Elara frowned. This, too, she remembered from the books—the way Caspian was constantly undermined, treated as less than his birthright deserved because of his mother's status. It had always infuriated her, the way the court dismissed him despite his obvious competence and the loyalty he commanded from his people.

"You shouldn't have to deal with that," she said quietly, the frustration leaking into her voice before she could stop it. Her hands gripped the fork so tightly, its decorative handle dug into her skin. "You're the king's son, too. Not only that, you're a Grand Duke. You're the only Grand Duke. This kingdom might not even still be here if not for you. At the very least, their lives wouldn't be as comfortable as they are now. The whole reason Elardwyn called off the war was because their new ruler didn't want to lose more men and Mages to you."

Caspian's gaze flicked to hers, surprise briefly replacing the weariness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly, studying her with an intensity that made her feel like she'd said something remarkable. "You may be right," he agreed, almost as if he were testing the words on his tongue. "But here, what's right is less important than the blood in your veins or the rumors that stain your name. The war-crazed maniac, the bastard who lusts for his brother's seat and his queen. This is all those high-borns looking down their nose at me see me as."

His smile was thin, edged with a bitterness she wasn't used to seeing so openly from him. It was like a glimpse into a wound he usually kept hidden, and it made her chest ache.

Elara set down her fork, pushing her half-eaten plate aside as she leaned forward. "I know you can handle it," she said, her voice firm with conviction. "You always do. But it isn't fair. And I—I know we can't change what's already happened, but I swear Caspian, I'll do all I can to change what's to come."

Caspian's expression became very...tender suddenly. "You've already done more than you know," he murmured. "I may not remember much from my loops, Elara, but I do remember this: in all my darkest moments, in every instance where I felt as if I would fall apart and my heart had become a black pebble in my chest, you encouraged me. You alone supported me. You may not ever fully come to understand just how much a person's belief can mean to someone who has lost the belief of everyone around them, but you gave me the strength to breathe. You have done more than enough."

He reached across the table, his hand hovering for a moment as if he were hesitating. Then, he gently placed it over hers, the warmth of his touch spreading through her like the first reaches of the sun's rays as dawn breaks across the sky. Elara's breath caught, her heart stumbling over itself as she met his gaze. For those few erratic heartbeats, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, the city below them, the palace beyond, and all its politics falling away into silence.

But the moment passed, and Caspian withdrew his hand, clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair. The mask of the Grand Duke was back in place, but there was a lingering softness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"You should rest. It's been a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer." Though his tone was strict, his voice was soft and still carried that same tenderness replicated in his eyes.

Elara nodded, still feeling the ghost of his touch on her skin. She rose from her seat, hesitating only for a moment before she turned toward the bed at the far end of the room. "Goodnight, Caspian," she said softly.

He gave her a small, almost rueful smile. "Goodnight, Elara."

She climbed into the large, comfortable bed and slid between the thick comforter, pulling the covers up to her chin. Her heart was still racing and her face was uncomfortably hot. 

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Elara woke to the scent of fresh bread and herbal tea, already set on the small dining table by the window. Caspian, dressed but still slightly tousled as if he'd only just finished getting ready himself, poured a steaming cup for her.

"Good morning," he said, glancing up as she padded over to join him. He handed her the cup, his fingers brushing hers in a way that made her acutely aware of the tenderness lingering from the night before.

"Good morning," she replied, taking a sip. The tea was fragrant, infused with a blend of spices that warmed her from the inside out. She hadn't realized how much she needed it.

They sat together in companionable silence, but Caspian's expression gradually turned more serious as he picked at his plate. "We need to discuss what happens next," he began, setting his fork down with a deliberate click against the porcelain. "I want you to fully know what you're getting into. I know I didn't give you the option to turn back before, but if you don't want to face high society, I wouldn't blame you."

"You mean because of your status."

"Yes. The son of the king's mistress is not treated as a son of the king, Elara. And for those who choose to ally with me, the treatment is often no better. You saw what happened last night, how that official rudely stepped into my quarters without being allowed in. Such treatment is bound to occur again, and as the woman posing as my lover, you will face the worst of it. Of course, I'll protect you to the best of my ability, but I'm not foolish enough to think that those women in the capital won't try to eat you alive when I'm not around."

"I'm not worried about how they'll treat me," she replied slowly, setting down her tea cup. "I know how they treat you, the things they say behind your back—sometimes even to your face. I'm more concerned about you."

The tenderness from last night flared up in his eyes, but there was a hard set to his jaw that didn't ease. "I've grown used to it," he said simply, though she could tell by the tension in his voice that it was still a raw wound. "So don't concern yourself with me. Think only of yourself, Elara. I know how vicious noble ladies can be to one another."

They finished their breakfast quickly after that, Caspian was clearly in a foul mood. Outside the window, the city was already bustling with activity, the noise of the market filtering up to their room as Crisseda helped Elara dress.

By the time they joined the rest of the group downstairs, the suns were fully up, casting a bright light on the cobbled streets of the capital. Crisseda was directing the maids in packing up the carriages, while Melanova spoke quietly with Chirovan.

Caspian's presence commanded immediate attention, and the others quickly fell into line as he approached. "We head for the palace," he announced. "Stay vigilant. Though we're no longer in the woods and therefore we're no longer easy targets, it won't be long until the ones who came after us learn of our whereabouts, if they haven't already."

Elara felt a shiver run down her spine as they moved out, the reality of what they were about to face setting in. She had seen glimpses of Caspian's power, his influence, but here, in the heart of Isyndor, she would witness the full extent of the court's disdain for him—the king's disdain for him.

Even though the true beginning of the novel was Valtren's Bounty Hunt, somehow, Elara felt like this was the beginning.

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Elara's heart raced as the carriage rolled through the palace gates, her gaze flitting to the towering stone walls and the banners fluttering in the wind—wine red and gold, the colors of the royal house of Isyndor. The coach wheels crunched against the gravel path before halting in the grand courtyard, where servants scurried about, heads bowed, and guards stood rigid at attention.

A thin man dressed in a well-tailored butler's uniform stepped forward as they all disembarked from their carriages and dismounted their horses. Elara knew who he was the moment she saw him. The head butler. She could tell by the way he looked down his nose at them.

"Your Grace," the butler said, dipping into a bow that was just polite enough to avoid reproach. He did not spare a glance at Elara, as if she were beneath his notice. "The king awaits you in the audience chamber. I shall have your knights, maids, and the coachmen escorted to their quarters."

Caspian inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable. "Very well," he said coolly. He turned as if to bring Elara with him, but the butler stepped forward, blocking her path.

"I'm afraid she must remain behind," the butler said, his voice sharp and authoritative. "The king has not summoned her."

A tense silence fell over the courtyard, the air crackling with an invisible pressure. Caspian's face darkened, the easy charm slipping away to reveal the icy, unyielding demeanor of the Grand Duke from the novel. He met the butler's eyes, his silver gaze gleaming like unsheathed steel. She found herself kind of grateful to the rude butler.

"She goes where I go," Caspian said, his voice low but ringing with a quiet, dangerous finality. "Or perhaps you've forgotten your place, Albrecht. Would you like me to remind you?"

The butler visibly stiffened, the color draining from his face. "Of course, Your Grace," he stammered, stepping back and bowing deeply this time, almost to the ground. "I meant no disrespect. Please, forgive my oversight."

Elara couldn't help but be incredibly impressed. It was one thing to read about the intimidating presence Caspian wielded, but witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely. He barely had to raise his voice, and yet the man who was the most trusted of all the king's servants in the palace was cowering before him.

I wish I could take a picture right now. He's handsome when he's kind, but when he's cold like this, he just oozes a different kind of charisma.

Caspian's cold expression did not falter as he offered Elara his arm. "Shall we?"

She nodded, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. She could physically feel the tension vibrating through him. Together, they walked into the palace, past the high, arched doors, and into the echoing halls filled with sunlight streaming through windows so clean, Elara might not have known they were there if not for the casing.

Elara's heartbeat thundered in her ears as they approached the grand audience chamber. As they stood outside the doors, she fully expected not just the king but Lyanna Orinthal to be inside, as well. Caspian squeezed her hand. When she looked up at him, he was looking straight at the doors, his face so calm that it was almost bored. Elara took a deep breath.

"Your Majesty, I have brought Grand Duke Caspian and his...intended."

A slight pause. "Let them in."