Alexander Theophilus's POV; "She survived that fall? The gods must have granted her mercy," Nathaniel chuckled, tipping his cup to his lips, his face unmoved by the bitterness of the wine.
I tilted my head, a smirk forming. "Do you know why I chose to marry her? Because she's the perfect weapon—she has that darkness, the ruthlessness. But then…" My voice hardened.
"She saw what she never should have. And now?"
A low, dark chuckle escaped me. "She wants to call off the wedding? Foolish. She should have considered that before she begged her father to have me."
Rising from the dark leather chair, I moved toward the large, towering shelves of the library, where the oldest texts lay untouched by all but a few.
I drew out a particular volume, my fingers skimming the familiar, arcane language of the under realms.
Nathaniel's voice drew my attention. "So? Are you relieved she survived, or does her escape vex you?" His gaze stayed level, his eyes cautious.
"What do you think?" I replied, still focused on the page.
He shook his head slightly, the worry deepening in his brow. "I think you're playing with a force darker than even you may control, Alex. She's a terror to the living world. Do you truly know what you're dealing with?"
I looked up then, meeting his gaze with a flicker of amusement.
Nathaniel was perhaps the only person who truly knew me—the only one who had stood by me through the layers of secrets and plans, and yet he seemed ever surprised by my resolve.
"You worry too much," I replied, my tone calm. I closed the book with a decisive snap, as though sealing my own resolve within its worn cover.
"Her dark nature may make her a danger, but it will make her an even better weapon. And, rest assured, I am in full command of my fate." I returned the book to its place on the shelf; it had served its purpose.
A text for creatures of the under-realms, it was akin to our own Bible—there to consult as needed, though few of us turned to it often, just as most humans do not dwell too long on their holy texts.
Nathaniel shifted where he sat, his voice low. "What exactly do you think you are, Alex? What do you rely on so deeply?"
The answer was simple. Myself.
"To define is to limit, Nathaniel," I replied with a slight yawn, strolling to a broad desk across the room. I picked up a sheet of paper and dipped a quill in ink, letting the words flow across the page with an elegant hand. I then handed the paper to him without further explanation.
"See that Taylor gets this."
Nathaniel nodded, tucking it carefully into his coat pocket. He cleared his throat, catching my gaze with a hesitant look. "So, when do you intend to marry her?" He lifted a brow, awkwardly smiling as if it might ease the tension.
I raised my own brow in return.
"You've taken quite an interest in my affairs, Nathaniel. Is there something on your mind?"
Nathaniel, ever the magnet for trouble, would have long since been dead if not for his connection to me. Yet despite his troubles, he remained fiercely loyal, if sometimes recklessly so.
My lips curled in a wry smile as a memory of his recent exploits surfaced:
Not long ago, in the bustling marketplace filled with stalls and shouting merchants, he had faced off with a stubborn woman. "I saw the handkerchief fall from you, Milady," he had insisted. The woman's brow knitted with annoyance. "You have the wrong person, sir. I've nothing for you—go find some other soul to pester!"
Unwilling to relent, Nathaniel suggested, "Just check your things, and see if it's still there, then." She grimaced, brushing her blonde hair from her face. Undeterred, he had taken her hand, pressing the handkerchief into her palm.
"Here," he'd murmured, with an almost amused smile. But her gratitude never came. Instead, as the breeze swept her hair back, her face twisted, breath caught short. She fell, trembling violently. Nathaniel froze, unsure of what to do.
"Are…are you all right?" he stammered, bending to check on her.Raised among creatures of darkness though he was, he himself had no dark magic to defend him. The villagers quickly gathered, calling him a witch, as though he'd caused her convulsions, and he was to be burned.
A witch would never be so brazen, of course, but reason has little place in the minds of a crowd. I'd been forced to intervene to save him.
After that incident, I'd given him shelter, though that didn't stop the trouble from following him. There were accusations—pilfering, inappropriate advances toward a maid, sneaking out at all hours, nearly bringing my own name into his escapades.
He often put my reputation, carefully honed over the years, at risk.As I watched him now, I remembered how I'd finally bought him his own cottage, allowing him to live alone and visit as he pleased.
To his credit, his missteps had lessened since then.
He swallowed, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "It's just that…well…" His words stumbled, and I leaned back, letting him work his courage up.
"Well? Out with it."
"It's just…" he finally continued, "Lady Sophia invited me for tea. I swear I didn't drink much, but I somehow became…loose-lipped. I might have let slip that you don't really love Princess Valeria." He dropped his gaze, bracing for my reaction.
I released a slow sigh. So it was Sophia, Valeria's close friend, who had influenced her decision to call off the wedding. My plans hadn't unraveled over what she saw—but over Nathaniel's careless words.
"Leave," I ordered, cutting him off before he could plead further.
He bowed low, muttering an apology, "Forgive me, Brother Alex." He always resorted to that title in hopes it would soften my judgment.
So, all my efforts to rid myself of her were in vain? Forced to discard a tool I hadn't even had the chance to use—I felt my jaw tighten as I slammed my fist against the desk.
But there was still an opening.
Valeria had lost her memory, and I intended to seize this chance. Marriage would bind her to me irrevocably; she couldn't escape now. She and I were destined, after all.
"Alicia," I called out, and within moments, she entered the study. No matter where she was, she'd always appear swiftly at my summons.
"Yes, Master?" she replied, her tone steady.
"Go get ready. We're going hunting," I said with a slow smile.
"It's time we find a fitting offering for Her Highness."
~~~~
Jamila/Valeria's POV;
"Princess Valeria!" An unfamiliar voice called, pulling me from sleep. I opened my eyes to meet a pair of concerned blue ones staring back at me. "I told him you were resting and to return later, but he refused," Taylor explained quickly, her voice a bit shaky.
"It's all right," I yawned, focusing on the man beside me on the bed, while Taylor stood nearby.
"Who…?" I began, hoping he'd take the hint.
"It's me, Princess Valeria. Owen. Your best friend—we grew up together in this palace," he said with a sad smile. Oh, I thought to myself.
"Prince Owen?" I asked, unsure.
He laughed.
"No, no. Just Owen. I'm no prince," he clarified.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, just as my stomach rumbled in reply.
He chuckled, standing and rolling up his sleeves. "You don't need to answer that. Taylor, come with me. I'll have some maids assist you with a bath," he said to her, adding, "And don't worry about the dining hall; we'll bring your meal here."
"You're going to cook for me?" I asked, surprised. Weren't men in this era supposed to avoid the kitchen? Owen nodded.
"You're not just anyone, Valeria. You're my best friend, and you're recovering. Remember when we were younger? I'd make your favorite dishes all the time." His sincerity made my heart warm.
"Thank you, Owen," I replied, a soft smile on my face.
"Don't mention it." He smiled, then left the room with Taylor.
In my former life, I'd only had Abdul-Quadri and my family—each wrapped up in their own world. When he called off our engagement, it affected me more than I cared to admit, leaving me with no close friends to confide in or find comfort, and I was too ashamed to tell my sister. I smiled painfully at the memory. I wonder whether my body has been buried or not.
These men from this time, though, are kinder than the stories I'd heard, more considerate than the ones I'd known. They seemed sweeter than the men of the future, even. I sighed as I stretched, feeling the soreness in my body from lying still for so long.
When I rose, my legs wobbled slightly beneath me.
I knew that here, maids often helped with undressing, but I wasn't about to allow that. Quietly, I slipped out of my dress, confident no one would barge in unannounced. I turned to the mirror, taking in the sight of the woman staring back at me—an unfamiliar, striking figure. Dark, wavy hair framed her face; her blue eyes, full lips, and sculpted figure gave her a flawless look I hadn't seen in myself before. I couldn't help a small smile.
But there was no time to smile. What if someone tries to kill me again? And what if I don't get another chance? Maybe this is my second chance, a gift from God to live again.
I took a scarf and wrapped it around my head, covering the cascade of dark hair. Left in only the petticoat that clung to my body, I noticed how it emphasized Valeria's striking figure. My figure, I reminded myself. The word sounded natural now.
With a sigh, I moved back to the bed, preparing to wait for the maids—I wasn't sure of the customs here. But before I could settle, the door opened abruptly. Shouldn't they knock? My eyes widened as I took in the figure at the door: the Duke.
Seeing him brought back flashes of last night, moments I wasn't even sure were real. Were they my dreams? Or Valeria's memories? I steadied my expression and glared at him. "Can't you knock? Or at least announce your arrival like you've always done?" I asked coldly, though his gaze trailed over me, lingering in a way that felt invasive yet strangely familiar.
"I didn't want to disturb your hearing," he said with a slight smirk, alluding to the herald's voice, which boomed as loudly as a gong. I scoffed at the excuse. "What if I was undressed?" I asked, before I could stop myself. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," he smirked, and that was when I knew it. It wasn't a dream, it was a memory.
As he strode closer, I held my ground. After all, I was a private agent in my previous life, and I'd faced down intimidating men before. His red eyes had startled me last time, but this time, I wouldn't let them unnerve me.
He smirked, and as much as I hated to admit it, his smile was disarmingly handsome. I shook off the thought, pulling myself back to focus.
"Are we having a staring contest?" he asked, raising his hand. That's when I noticed he held a rabbit.
"I went hunting for you. You always liked rabbits, didn't you?"
"Did I?" I replied, uncertain. I'd never given much thought to animals before; I was too busy with work to have preferences like that."Yes," he said, almost amused.
"You liked eating them." I gave a simple "oh" in response.
"Anyway," he continued, eyes assessing me, "it looks like you're already on the mend. I came here to let you know—it's time to prepare for our wedding ceremony."