"Wake up!" Edith yelled, yanking the curtains open to allow sunlight to filter into the room.
The harsh light made the girl lying in bed furrow her brows. She stirred, trying to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. In her half-dreaming state, she felt herself falling from a great height. Just as she braced for the inevitable, bone-crushing collision, a cold splash of water shocked her fully awake.
Althea gasped, bolting upright, disoriented. Her heart raced as she clutched her chest. Her hand found the cool, familiar metal of her necklace. She gripped it tightly, her breath shallow.
[Didn't I die?]
The memory of that night came flooding back—of the dagger, the cold steel slicing through her skin, the pool of blood beneath her. She had felt her breath leave her body, her last thought one of regret. And now, here she was. Was it a miracle? Or a cruel game of fate?
She glanced around, taking in the familiar room. It was the one she occupied in the east wing of her father's estate. The decor—hues of black and gold, the large four-poster bed in the center, and the oak table by the wardrobe—was unmistakable. Everything was as it had been... years ago.
"Your father has asked you to join him for breakfast today. Now get up, you lazy thing!" Edith snapped impatiently.
Still dazed, Althea struggled to piece together her thoughts. Her hands instinctively moved to her abdomen. She felt no wound.
"What's today's date?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
Edith scoffed. "Are you that dumb now? It's the twelfth day of March, Your Grace."
The twelfth day of March. The day of the masquerade ball. A few days before the king sent the proposal. The Prince's visit. Althea's grip on her necklace tightened. She was alive.
[God has given me another chance.]
She smiled faintly, her mind already racing.
"You had better get up and let Annis and Ellen do their job on time. Don't waste—"
"Enough." Althea's voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that silenced Edith mid-sentence.
Edith blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"
"You are no longer needed here," Althea said, swinging her legs off the bed.
Edith's mouth fell open. "You... you can't fire me! The Duchess hired me. Only she can dismiss me."
"Duchess Elodie may have hired you," Althea replied coolly, "but you work in my household. Pack your things and leave. I never want to see your face again."
The other maids gasped softly, exchanging glances. Edith, however, refused to back down. "You ungrateful wretch! I know everything. Do you really want me to—"
"To what? Bark like the dog you are?" Althea interrupted with a raised brow. "I'm tired of your threats, Edith. You're no longer welcome here. Guards!"
The two stationed guards stepped into the room immediately.
"Take her out. Make sure she leaves with nothing."
The men didn't wait for Edith to protest. They grabbed her arms and dragged her from the room, her curses fading into the corridor.
Once the door slammed shut, the tension in the room dissipated. Althea turned to the remaining maids. "Annis, Ellen, I'll need some privacy for now."
The maids exchanged uneasy glances. Annis wrung her hands nervously, her eyes darting between Althea and the door. Ellen, younger and bolder, stared at Althea with something close to awe. "Your Grace... are you all right?" she asked hesitantly.
Althea turned to her, her gaze softening. "I will be," she said simply. "Thank you for your concern, Ellen."
The two maids curtsied and left without a word. Alone, Althea sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers grazing the pendant around her neck. The necklace had been a gift from her mother, a symbol of protection and love.
[This time, things will be different.]
After a moment, she stood and crossed to her bath chamber. Annis and Ellen returned promptly, preparing the warm, fragrant water.
"Your Grace, the bath is ready," Ellen announced, bowing slightly.
Althea nodded, allowing them to assist her. As they worked, she studied her reflection in the water. The girl staring back at her looked the same, but her eyes gleamed with determination.
"Do you prefer flowers in the bath, Your Grace?" Annis asked tentatively.
"I do," Althea said, a small smile gracing her lips.
The maids exchanged surprised glances but quickly added petals to the water. When the bath was done, Althea stepped back into her room, her gaze falling on the rows of dresses in her wardrobe.
Each dress seemed worse than the last—garish, ill-fitting, or deliberately provocative. [What was I thinking back then?]
"Ellen, is there anything suitable in here?"
The maid hesitated, then pulled out a stiff leather dress with mismatched buttons and a misshapen bow. It was atrocious, yet the least offensive option.
"That will do," Althea said with a sigh.
As they helped her into the monstrosity, Annis struggled to tame her uneven hair into a semblance of a bun. Althea caught her reflection in the mirror and burst out laughing.
"How on earth did I ever convince myself to wear this?"
The maids giggled nervously but joined in her laughter when they saw her relaxed demeanor.
When the laughter subsided, Althea turned serious. "Annis, fetch the pink box in my drawer. Ellen, bring me a matchstick."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Moments later, Althea held the pink box in her hands. She opened it to reveal the stack of letters from Caspian. Althea stared at the pile of letters, her chest tightening. These pages had once been her escape—a secret rebellion against the suffocating walls of her life. She had memorized Caspian's words, foolishly believing in promises that never bore fruit. Now, each one was a reminder of her past mistakes. With steady hands, she carried the box to the garden, her maids following closely.
She set the letters on a stone bench, struck the match, and watched as the flames consumed the paper. The fire crackled, erasing Caspian's empty words and the girl she had once been.
This time, she would face her father. She wouldn't hide. She wouldn't run.
She was ready to take control of her life.