Eva's eyes snapped open to the blaring sound of trumpets. Not a modern car horn or alarm clock, but actual trumpets—bold and deafening, reverberating as if they were positioned right beside her bed. Instinctively, she reached out to hit snooze, only to smack her hand against something soft and feathery.
"What the—?" she muttered, blinking at the thing perched on her pillow.
It was a golden quill. Not just any quill—this one floated in midair, wobbling slightly like it was getting used to gravity.
"Ah, you're awake," the quill said in a decidedly snarky voice.
Eva froze. The talking feather didn't stop.
"About time. I was starting to think my host was defective. Welcome to your new life, Lady Evalina Du Montecourt, the royal thorn in everyone's side."
She sat up abruptly, her brain scrambling to make sense of the ornate canopy bed, the gilded wallpaper, and the entirely-too-fluffy nightgown she was wearing.
"This… this is a dream," Eva said, laughing nervously. "Any second now, I'm going to wake up back in my apartment. Probably passed out on the couch after another bad TV binge—"
"Nope," the quill interrupted. "You've transmigrated, my dear. Kicked out of your boring modern world and plopped straight into a royal mess. And don't bother pinching yourself. This is as real as it gets."
Eva groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Okay, fine. Let's say I believe you. What's the catch? Why me?"
The quill twirled dramatically. "Oh, nothing too complicated. Just a tiny curse, a doomed marriage, and a kingdom teetering on the brink of chaos. No pressure."
Eva swung her legs off the bed and stood, wobbling slightly in her ridiculous silk slippers. "Great. So what am I supposed to do about it?"
"Survive," the quill said. "Oh, and don't die. Again."
---
The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted Eva's internal meltdown. A maid burst into the room, breathless and wide-eyed.
"Lady Evalina, you must hurry! The prince awaits you in the throne room."
Eva's stomach dropped. "Prince? What prince?"
"His Highness, Prince Alaric. You're to apologize for yesterday's... incident," the maid said, nervously avoiding eye contact.
"What incident?" Eva hissed as she followed the maid out into the grand hallway.
The quill hovered beside her, chuckling. "Oh, you're going to love this. Apparently, Evalina—you—slapped the crown prince at a royal banquet. Hard."
Eva stopped dead in her tracks. "I slapped royalty? What was wrong with me?"
"Plenty," the quill said. "But don't worry. I'm here to help. Just follow my lead, and you might survive this encounter."
---
The throne room was as intimidating as she'd imagined—marble floors, high ceilings, and far too many people staring at her as she entered. At the center stood a man who could only be described as broodingly handsome, with sharp features and an even sharper glare.
Prince Alaric.
Eva could practically feel the tension in the air as she approached him. His arms were crossed, his expression a mixture of irritation and disdain.
"You're late," Alaric said coldly.
"Apologies, Your Highness," Eva said, curtsying awkwardly. She cursed internally. How did one curtsy without looking like a collapsing puppet?
"You embarrassed me in front of the court yesterday," he continued, his voice like ice. "Do you have any explanation for your behavior?"
Eva's mind raced. She glanced at the quill hovering near her shoulder.
"Go on," it whispered. "Say something clever."
Eva plastered on a bright, overly sweet smile. "Of course, Your Highness. I was merely... expressing my enthusiasm for your leadership. Perhaps too passionately."
The court erupted in murmurs. Alaric raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.
"Enthusiasm?" he repeated.
"Indeed," Eva said. "Your reputation precedes you, and I couldn't help but—uh—show my appreciation. I assure you, no offense was intended."
The quill snickered. "Brilliant. Truly."
Alaric stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Lady Evalina, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were mocking me."
"Mock you? Never!" Eva said, her voice an octave higher than usual.
The tension broke as Alaric turned away, muttering something under his breath. "You're impossible."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Eva said, curtsying again.
As the prince left the throne room, Eva exhaled shakily.
"Well," the quill said. "You're not dead yet. I'd call that a win."
---
Just as Eva thought the ordeal was over, a messenger burst into the room, holding a scroll sealed with the royal crest.
"An urgent decree from the king!"
The messenger's words silenced the murmuring courtiers. He unfurled the scroll and read aloud:
"By order of His Majesty, Lady Evalina Du Montecourt shall be wed to His Highness, Prince Alaric, within the month."
The room erupted in gasps. Eva's jaw dropped.
"What?!"
The quill twirled gleefully. "Oh, this is going to be fun."