It was snowing again, but Lina Riley could hardly pay attention to that. She was busy wrestling with all the emotions surging inside her, the memories of her previous life still flooding back. Despite the biting cold, she felt an odd sense of heat.
Lost in thought, she walked straight into a solid object. A familiar fragrance tickled her nose. She hastily stepped back and dropped to her knees. "Forgive me, Your Highness."
Lucille Everard turned around and crouched slightly, noticing Lina sprawled on the ground. The snow was so cold and wet that it felt like Lina was punishing herself. Lucille rose, leaned over, and helped Lina to her feet with remarkable ease. "You scare that easily? Am I really so terrifying?"
At that, Lina nearly fell to her knees all over again. "I didn't mean it that way, Your Highness."
Lucille let go, not in the mood to linger there, and her voice turned stern. "Keep up."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Lina brushed the snow from her clothes, not daring to let her mind wander anymore. She followed behind Lucille, who seemed intent on testing her. Lucille walked faster and faster before finally breaking into light-footed leaps.
Though it took all her strength, Lina managed to keep up, a bit dazzled by the figure bounding ahead of her. Even the best-tempered person might find this irritating, though Lina couldn't help but be impressed. Leaving aside her temperament, The Princess Royal was astonishing in every way.
Distracted by that thought, Lina lagged behind. Panicking, she sped up, only to tumble off the palace wall in her haste. The next instant, someone caught her around the waist. Lina heard her own heart pounding in her ears.
She hadn't expected Lucille Everard to circle back and save her. In hindsight, all along the way, Lucille had never truly pushed her to a dangerous point. Lina felt mortified—she wasn't used to such close contact, especially with an Earthbound like Lucille. Moreover, in her previous life, Lina was usually the one rescuing others. This life, she felt almost too fragile by comparison.
Such muddled feelings led to a bizarre notion: she now owed The Princess Royal a rescue in return. The thought popped up only to be squashed by Lina's conscience, which scolded her for wishing peril on Lucille. She told herself: No matter how you look at it, The Princess Royal must live a long, peaceful life.
Lucille set Lina back on her feet. Snow drifted once more, leaving white flecks in Lina's ebony hair, though she didn't seem to notice. Lucille observed that the young woman was prone to daydreaming. She gave a faint, wry smile, then plucked a bit of snow from Lina's hair. Her own actions confused her, and she flung the snow aside, her voice going cold. "Let's go."
Not missing Lucille's bristling mood, Lina followed warily.
Why are we walking along the top of the walls? she wondered.
She sneaked a glance down and saw a squad of palace guards, all wearing matching uniforms, marching below in perfect formation. Lina felt rather silly, like a monkey bounding atop the walls. Fortunately, the guards simply looked up, saw them, and moved on without a word.
She exhaled in relief, leaving the puzzled guards behind. Only after Lina and Lucille disappeared from sight did one guard at the rear turn back for a final look, then heaved a sigh. The troop instantly erupted in gossipy whispers. People's imaginations turned a simple ruler-and-subject relationship into something more suggestive.
Unaware that her reputation was now thoroughly mangled, Lina simply noted that Lucille's palace was rather remote. They circled past countless buildings, finally climbing down from the wall and coming to a stop before a plaque that bore the words "Hall of Reflection," its design mirroring the monarch's Hall of Meditation.
This hall was less populated—only a few attendants were sweeping the steps. Seeing The Princess Royal's return, they immediately set down their brooms and curtsied. With a casual wave, Lucille told them to rise.
All at once, the palace doors opened from within, startling Lina. She peeked through the doorway to see a woman standing there, grinning from ear to ear. Dressed plainly, with a headscarf covering threads of silver hair, she looked distinctly out of place in such a lavish setting. What was someone like that doing at The Princess Royal's residence?
That person was Beatrice Byrd. She beamed. "You're back, Lucy."
Lucille's entire demeanor bristled with disapproval. "You still have on that tattered rag? Shall I toss you into the fishpond?"
Beatrice's shoulders shook. "I don't suit your fancy wardrobe. Don't be upset. Come in first."
She spoke while sneaking glances at Lina, offering a friendly smile when Lina noticed. Lucille still looked annoyed, but she didn't actually dump Beatrice in a fishpond. Following Lucille indoors, Lina's heart was in turmoil. She was stunned that someone would call The Princess Royal by a pet name—and Lucille wasn't even angry! What's more, Beatrice's voice felt oddly familiar, though Lina couldn't place where she might have heard it.
She took a seat at Lucille's invitation, bowing her head politely instead of gawking around the room. Beatrice started by taking Lucille's pulse. "You're doing well," she pronounced.
Lucille withdrew her hand and glanced at Lina, who was sitting stiff as a statue. "Check her, too."
Lina quickly sat up straighter and obediently held out her wrist. Beatrice laughed. "Why are you scaring her?"
Lucille frowned, turning to Lina. "Have I frightened you?"
Lina shook her head so hard it might have fallen off. "No, Your Highness."
Satisfied, Lucille leaned back in her chair, flashing Beatrice a smug look. Beatrice just laughed again, genuinely relieved. From the day she'd first met Lucille, Beatrice had seen Lucille in her darkest, most frenzied states—like a wounded beast backed into a corner, ready to shred everything in sight. The aftermath was a silence so stifling it was as though all life had vanished.
Beatrice could handle those outbursts. What she dreaded more was a third kind of episode. Now, though, Lucille seemed to be in a playful mood, acting clever, teasing people, flaunting her victories in front of Beatrice. That was a good sign.
But being stared at with such fondness made Lucille shudder. She snapped, "What are you looking at?"
Beatrice swallowed her sentiment with a small smile and shifted her attention back to Lina's wrist. Lina, who had been quite relaxed, went a bit tense at Beatrice's increasingly serious expression.
Sensing her anxiety, Beatrice reassured her. "No need to worry. Relax."
The softness of Beatrice's tone made something click in Lina's memory. A flash from her previous life: when she was poisoned by enemy forces, the toxins stealing her eyesight and nearly taking her life. On the brink of death, she recalled someone grasping her hand, speaking gently: "Just relax. Don't be afraid." At the time, she could see nothing but darkness, and the soldiers in the camp had said a wandering physician had saved her.
This must be that physician—her savior from her previous life.
Lucille, who had been watching Beatrice take so long, grew somewhat concerned. She almost spoke up, but didn't want to interrupt. Eventually, she straightened, her eyes fixed on Lina's hand. The air grew tense.
Finally, Beatrice released Lina's wrist. "Lina, do you often have troubled dreams?"
Lina's eyes widened. "Yes. Whenever I sleep, I have nightmares."
Beatrice nodded knowingly. After a moment's thought, she asked, "Do you recall their contents?"
Lina nodded again. "I dream of misplaced loyalty, losing a hand and my sight, and being burned until nothing is left but ash. Then I dream of a lonely grave overgrown with weeds, and someone arriving with flowers, sipping wine, and playing a flute before my tomb."
Lucille's brow creased in confusion as she listened. Lina's nightmares repeated scenes from her past life. Perennially haunted, Lina had hoped that this woman—who had once saved her—could offer a cure. Looking at Beatrice with renewed hope, she asked, "Do you have a way to help me?"
Beatrice's lips curved in a confident smile. "Relax. This is easy to fix."
At that, Lina's eyes shone. To her, Beatrice was a veritable miracle-worker. Her excitement was palpable, though she stole a glance at Lucille, who was frowning for reasons she couldn't guess.
Beatrice rose and moved to a nearby shelf, retrieving a stack of writing paper. She took a few sheets, laid them on a desk, and picked up a brush. After scribbling something, she waved the pages to dry the ink, then carefully folded them. Returning to Lina, she offered the folded pages. "Open this at home. If another person sees these instructions, they'll lose their power."
At that moment, Lina's oddly shifty savior looked like any number of dubious monks or fortune-tellers she had met before. Surely a remedy wouldn't stop working just because someone else set eyes on it, right? Maybe it was some strange folk taboo. But Lina trusted her benefactor implicitly. She took the prescription with great solemnity and pressed it to her chest. "Understood."
Observing Lucille's furrowed brow, Beatrice cautioned Lina again, "Guard it carefully. Let no one else see it."
Lina, thoroughly rattled, nodded once more, tucking the papers close. "I understand."
Pleased by her cooperation, Beatrice stole another glance at Lucille to ensure she wasn't protesting, then took charge. "Her Highness brought you here out of concern for your well-being. Seeing that you're in no real danger, you can head back to your estate now."
Lina nodded automatically, pausing to ask, "But what about my official post?"
Beatrice looked puzzled for a moment. "Didn't I just call you 'Guard Riley'?"
That jogged Lina's memory. She vaguely recalled that title. Beatrice grinned broadly. "Congratulations—you're now a royal guard."
It wasn't what Lina had expected; she'd assumed she would start as a low-ranking officer in the War Department. Once her initial shock subsided, she resolved to take the duty seriously. After all, protecting the monarch was something she could handle.
But things proved more complicated. Beatrice clapped her lightly on the shoulder, clearly amused. "You're responsible for The Princess Royal's safety."
Lina flinched.
Why would The Princess Royal need a guard at all?
Lucille offered no contradiction. Lina walked away, weighed down by new concerns. She kept glancing back and sighing to herself. By the time she reached home, she waved off everyone who came to greet her and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting alone until nightfall.
Finally, she prepared for bed, deciding to set aside her worries about the future for the moment. Taking out the folded prescription from her pocket, she furtively peered outside her bedroom. Seeing no one, she locked all the doors and windows. Heart pounding with anticipation—her road to a peaceful night's sleep hinged on this!—she carefully opened the paper, folded into a heart shape.
Her hands shook as she unfolded it. Then, by candlelight, she read:
"Marry The Princess Royal."
Lina's eyes widened in disbelief. Furious, she crumpled the paper into a ball and hurled it aside.
"Ridiculous!"
Her helpless anger didn't last long. Weariness took hold, and she decided to go to sleep. Perhaps it was the "prescription" at work—she didn't dream of either her past or present torments.
All she dreamt of was The Princess Royal…