Lily awoke to the soft rustle of curtains swaying against the morning breeze. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling golden warmth across the canopy bed where she lay. For a moment, she wondered if last night had only been a strange dream—the frantic escape, the shouts of guards, the shadowy figure in the black robe pulling her away from certain capture. Yet, the faint ache in her legs from running told her otherwise.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the door creaked open.
"Good morn, My Lady," came the gentle voice of Melissa, her personal servant. The young woman entered gracefully, carrying a silver tray laden with breakfast—fresh bread rolls, honey, cheese, and a steaming cup of fragrant tea. She set it upon the bedside table and lowered herself in a slight curtsey.
Lily pushed herself up, blinking. "Morning… Melissa," she replied, her voice still groggy.
"I trust you rested well?" Melissa asked, carefully arranging the breakfast before her.
Lily hesitated. "Y-yeah… I guess." She decided against telling her what truly happened the night before. If she did, she doubted Melissa would believe her.
Melissa poured the tea into a porcelain cup and offered it to her. "You must conserve your strength, My Lady. Later this day, the family physician shall attend to you. His Grace and Her Grace have instructed that you remain in your chambers until then."
"Oh… a check-up?" Lily muttered. "Like… a doctor's appointment?"
Melissa tilted her head, puzzled at the unfamiliar phrasing. "Aye, if that is how you call it where you came from."
With nothing else to do, Lily picked at her breakfast, the silence between them growing heavy. Her mind drifted back to the man who had rescued her. His face had been half-hidden, but his presence lingered vividly in her memory—the firm grip on her hand, the swiftness with which he moved. She had been frightened of him, yes, but curiosity gnawed at her.
Who was he? Why had he helped her?
"Melissa," Lily began cautiously, "tell me… about Lillian."
The servant paused mid-step, turning to her with a questioning look. "My Lady… you are—"
"I mean," Lily cut in quickly, "just humor me. Pretend I'm not her and tell me what kind of person she is."
Melissa regarded her strangely but eventually relented. "Very well. Lady Lillian is unlike other noblewomen I have known. She has never envied another's beauty or station. Her love for the Duke and Duchess is without measure, and she would oft spend hours in the gardens with Her Grace, the Duchess Marianne, tending to roses."
Lily tried to imagine herself doing that. Not likely.
"She was betrothed to Prince Thaddeus from a young age," Melissa continued, her tone softening. "The match was considered a great honor, for Prince Thaddeus was beloved by all. Alas, his passing left the House of Ashbourne in grief."
"And now?" Lily asked.
Melissa's eyes clouded. "Now… she is to be wed to the Emperor's son, Lucian. He is known to be dangerous, for he was not raised within the palace walls. Being of illegitimate birth, his upbringing was… less refined. Many fear his temper, yet Lady Lillian accepted her fate, hoping she might find kindness in him."
Lily frowned. "Doesn't sound like a guy you'd wanna marry."
Melissa sighed. "There are matters in noble life one cannot refuse, My Lady."
Then, with a hesitant glance, she added, "Yet… there were times Lady Lillian acted most peculiarly. She would vanish from the estate without reason, only to return hours later as though naught had happened."
Before Lily could ask more, the knock of knuckles against wood drew their attention. A voice announced the arrival of the physician, and moments later, the Duchess and Duke swept into the room, their dignified presence filling the air.
The physician, an older man with a thin frame and sharp eyes, followed them in. "All servants are to step outside," the Duke ordered firmly. Melissa dipped her head and departed, leaving only the four of them.
Lily sat stiffly under their watchful eyes as the physician approached. In that time, examinations were more formal and deliberate. He asked her questions—her name, her age, her earliest memories—studying her closely for signs of deceit. He felt her pulse with long, bony fingers, peered into her eyes, and examined the back of her head for injury.
"I find her mind clouded," the physician finally declared. "A most curious affliction. She recalls little of herself and confuses events past with those unknown to us. It is my counsel that she be re-taught the manner and bearing befitting her station."
"Amnesia," Lily muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Great. That's just perfect."
The Duchess placed a hand over hers. "Fear not, my dear. We shall see you restored to your rightful self."
"But—" Lily began.
"There will be no more protest," the Duke said sternly. "You will comply, for your own good."
It was clear they would not listen, no matter how much she insisted she wasn't Lillian Ashbourne. Her story about coming from another time would sound like madness to them.
By the time Melissa returned, Lily had given up trying. "Come, My Lady," the servant said gently. "Let us walk. The palace holds much you ought to know."
They stepped into the corridors, where sunlight spilled across polished marble floors. Tall windows lined the halls, framed by heavy drapes of crimson velvet. Chandeliers of crystal and gold gleamed overhead, their light dancing upon the walls. The scent of beeswax polish lingered faintly in the air.
Melissa guided her through vast drawing rooms with high, painted ceilings, through libraries filled with leather-bound volumes, and into airy courtyards where fountains sang softly among trimmed hedges. She explained each space—the grand ballroom, the council chamber, the guest suites reserved for visiting nobility.
Eventually, they came upon a corridor unlike the others. Its walls were bare, the air still and heavy. Two armored guards stood watch before a tall, ornate door at the far end.
"This is where His Imperial Majesty resides," Melissa whispered, her voice low as if the walls themselves might overhear. "Servants are not encouraged to linger here without cause. Come, we must not tarry."
Lily nodded absently, but as Melissa turned to lead her away, movement caught her eye. The door to the Emperor's chamber opened, and a figure stepped out.
Her breath caught.
It was a man in a black robe.
Her mind raced—the flowing fabric, the steady gait, the air of quiet danger. She knew that robe. She had felt the grip of that hand pulling her through the dark streets only last night.
Melissa's voice was distant now, urging her to follow. But Lily's gaze was fixed on him, her pulse quickening.
The robed man paused for the briefest moment, as if sensing her eyes upon him.
Lily ducked behind a marble pillar, heart pounding in her chest.
It was him. She was certain of it.