Hairs red as blood and those striking green eyes. Never in a dream, did Amellia dream of such thoughts. Face of the traitor. Why was the mirror showing her the face of Emily? Anyone but her. Amellia breath hitched as memories of the night resurfaced.
Amellia took a step back waiting for it to change but the betrayer's face continued to stare at her—the look of victory. Amellia couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed a vase closest to her, tossing it at the mirror.
The cracked pieces shattered to the ground. Thousand pieces and thousands of images of the woman Amellia refuse to acknowledge.
"Young miss!!" Amellia stopped glaring at the shattered pieces and focused on an old stout woman standing by the doorway. Her eyes stared at the shattered glasses and then at her. Amellia breathed in relief. Maybe it was the mirror and her delusion. She didn't look like that.
"Maria, what is the colour of my hair?" Amellia went straight to the old woman, her frail hand grabbing onto her shoulder, waiting for an answer she wished to know. It must be blonde. Like early rays of sunshine, nothing else.
"You are the first ray of sunshine, Amellia." Her father's words echoed in her head.
Maria was frightened by Amellia's outburst, her eyes following the bloody footprint against the white marble tiles. "Young miss, your feet are bleeding, please calm down."
Amellia ignored her pleas. All she cared about was knowing her face. "Just say what my hair colour is!" Amellia yelled out, frustrated by Maria's dilly-dallying.
Shocked and feared by Amelia's strange behaviour, Maria complied, "It's a red, young miss. Please let me take care of your wounds."
Amellia dropped her hands from Maria's shoulder, there was nothing. Somehow she now has the face of her murderer. Those visions were not just dreams, it was all real.
Maria carefully took dazed Amellia back to the bed, aiding her injury. Maria couldn't help but glance at her while cleaning her wounds. As if she was frozen in time, not even one sound. It was solitude.
Maria sighed, "Is it because of that Alex guy, young miss?" She chipped, her brown eyes peeking through her long lashes.
Amellia glanced up at the old, stout woman applying medicine to her wound. She appeared far more often in those visions than Amellia could count. She was Maria, an old housekeeper who was like a mother figure. Maria was never bad in those visions.
"No," Amellia remarked. She had seen Alex in those visions; he was the fiance of the blonde woman previously there.
Maybe those were not just imagination but memories of her sister's doppelganger. This was not their world, from that memory it's clear Monarchy was no longer important instead the parliament had control over the country. Amellia still couldn't believe the absurd idea of her being in future. But what if it's her second chance in life? Maybe it was the god's way of making amends. Giving her the face of the killer, she can take her revenge. It seems the genes of stealing another's fiance are in the genes. Pests never change, do they?
"Maria, I am hungry." Amellia shifted her way of talking, according to the memories. One thing about being a ruler was the ability to adapt and reshape your life according to it. A ruler who sticks to his stern belief even with the shift in time would be only written down in history as the cause of the downfall. Her father's first lesson to Amellia.
"A tree that stops growing is a dead tree and a ruler that ceased to adapt is misfortune made to cause death of their people." Amellia's remembered the words clearly. If this was the future or another world she needs to adapt according to it.
Maria's eyes glimmered hearing her. It was the usual tone of her young miss, "Of course, young miss. What do you wish to eat?"
"Eva! How often do I have to tell you not to touch other stuff and eat the salad? Look at your face, you look like a chipmunk. Maria put Eva on an ice diet till she lost her cheeks." A memory flashed over Amellia's mind. A young girl, around the age of twelve, sitting at a dining table filled with various foods. A young woman sat beside her, speaking in annoyance as she took away the young girl's plate.
The young girl sat in a pale blue dress and bun with her head lowered. From nowhere she looked fat, her small dainty finger, touching her cheeks. It was clear the vile woman's words started to affect the young girl, chipping away at her confidence.
"A big hearty meal with bacon, eggs, bread, butter, butter and don't forget the fruits." Maria's furrows burrowed, her young miss never eats more than a banana. It was something Young madam, made sure of. Maria always felt bad for abiding by the young madam's rule and sometimes sneaked in food only for her to refuse it.
"I had just survived death, don't question a young girl's appetite." Amellia cheekily continued. This was completely against her princess's rule of etiquette and talking like it was killing her but adapting was important. She was supposed to Evanthe Emily Cooper, a young miss of the Cooper family. Eva in her vision might be a vixen, but she is also sweet and caring and sunshine, everything she was severely allergic to. A woman should be elegant, and smiling. Caring was what a maid was supposed to be, not a princess. They should carry themselves with an air of grace to put a distinct line between her and the commoner.
"You should understand your people, but not become one of them. You don't let a man disrespect you, keep your head always held high up. Be weak and whimper you no better than the housewives of a poor farmer." Her governess's words stuck with her.
Her parents never had a male heir and to protect the kingdom they chose a female heir - her. She was supposed to be an heir and a woman later.
"Sure, young miss. Let me prepare it for you." Maria gave a pat, before leaving the room.
Amellia finally stopped smiling. It was harder than she expected, her cheeks hurt just a few minutes of being Eva. She needed to practice it if this was going to be her life.
"Since you are awake, here." Amellia was caught off guard by a voice. It was cold. She had the same red hair as Eva, unlike her though she had an air of arrogance. In a tight black dress, that showed her curves. Amellia remembered her, she was Eva's mother, the one who forced her on a diet and took away her confidence.
"This?" Amellia hand grabbed the piece of paper which was tossed at her. It was small, white with a number written on it.
"Hayden's room card. Make him take you back. I don't care if you spread your legs like you did for Alexander, just get him back."