There was only one day left before Julian and I departed for the Kingdom of Elyndor.
Ever since I began teaching Emily to read, she has proven to be a remarkably fast learner. Now, we'd progressed to writing simple letters, her quill moving with growing confidence across each page. In just two weeks since I'd awoken in the body of Lily Hartwell, the world around me had shifted quietly but irrevocably.
Julian had been working tirelessly to restore the Hartwell household. Slowly, piece by piece, he was reclaiming what had once been lost. But even as the halls brightened and the staff returned, it wasn't quite the same. I knew that much from the family records I'd buried myself in—pages upon pages of Hartwell history, detailing its once-proud lineage.
Life had grown busier in anticipation of our journey to Elyndor, yet some things remained constant. Each day, Emily practiced her writing beside me in the library, her posture straight, eyes focused. Her reading was flawless now. The only sounds in the room were the scratch of ink and the soft rustle of pages—until that peace shattered.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway.
Emily, startled, hurriedly slipped her paper beneath a book just as the door burst open.
"My lady!" a breathless maid exclaimed. "The crown prince is waiting for you in the main living room!"
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor. Gathering the folds of my yellow dress—simpler now, the embellishments sold to aid in the restoration of the Hartwell estate—I ran.
The halls blurred as I moved, the weight of urgency pressing against my chest. When I reached the living room, I took a breath, composed myself, and opened the door with as much poise as I could muster.
Then, I bowed low. "To the gods and past kings, good morning, my prince," I said brightly.
"Raise your head," Alistair replied with a calm smile. "Come, sit."
He remained seated on the couch, his posture relaxed, though I sensed purpose in his visit. "Apologies for coming unannounced," he said, glancing around, just then noticing Julian seated nearby.
Julian offered a polite nod, though his expression was tight. He was trying to hide his annoyance, but I could read him well enough now to see it.
"I figured," Alistair continued, "if you cannot visit the palace… then the palace should come to you."
I took the seat closest to Julian, my heart still steadying itself, my mind already racing to anticipate why the crown prince had come.
"Julian, may I ask a favor?" Alistair began, his tone softer than usual. "I'd like to speak with Lily privately—just the two of us, if you don't mind."
Julian's eyes shifted to mine. I gave him a subtle nod, signaling that it was right.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Julian said, his voice calm but guarded. He rose from his seat and made his way to the door, leaving the room with a quiet dignity.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Alistair let out a sigh of exaggerated relief.
"Finally," he said with a grin, "we have the room to ourselves."
I looked at him, still surprised that someone of nineteen could carry himself with both the weight of royalty and the playfulness of a child. I returned his smile. "Yes, big brother," I said, the words light and teasing.
His expression faltered for a brief moment, caught off guard. Then, to my surprise, he laughed. A genuine, unguarded sound that softened the air between us.
Alistair rose to his feet, his movements fluid, graceful in that effortless way royalty seemed to possess. He reached out and let his hand rest lightly on my shoulder.
"Isn't it warm in here, Lily?" he asked, his smile casual—too casual.
A shiver crept down my spine despite the warmth he spoke of. Something was unsettling in the way he looked at me, yet I couldn't quite place it. Still, his presence was magnetic, pulling me in like a tide I couldn't fight.
"We could go outside, if you'd like," he offered, his voice softer now, almost coaxing.
And just like that, the thought took hold. I wanted to go with him. The idea bloomed in my mind so quickly, so naturally, it startled me—and yet, I found myself smiling.
"Yes," I murmured, warmth creeping into my voice before I could stop it. "I'd like that."
There was something sweet in the way he said it, something that stirred a feeling too genuine for how brief our connection was. It felt real. Soft. Almost… tender.
"I'd gladly go with you," I said, rising from my seat as he turned, already heading toward the castle doors.
As we stepped into the cool afternoon air, I glanced at him and added, "I know a place where flowers grow wild. Would you like to see it?"
I couldn't stop the words from leaving my mouth, as if something inside me had shifted—my emotions no longer entirely my own. One moment, I was uncertain, and the next, I was smiling, agreeing to follow him. It felt... unnatural. Or maybe too natural.
Now, we stood in the garden. The same one I had first stumbled into when I arrived in this unfamiliar world—Lily's world. Wild blossoms stretched out in gentle waves, swaying beneath the breeze like they were caught in a quiet dance. And nestled within the beauty of it all, beneath a cluster of flowering trees, were the graves of Lily's parents.
Alistair stopped beside me, his gaze landing on the headstones. A flicker of something passed through his expression—surprise, maybe even disbelief.
"I can't believe you'd show your parents' graves to the crown prince," he said, his voice laced with dry sarcasm.
I turned to him calmly. "We can go somewhere else, if you'd prefer, Your Highness."
But I watched him closely, curious about what expression might come next.
"No," he said after a moment, his tone flat, unreadable. "It's fine here."
We sat down in the grass beside the graves. A hush settled over us, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the petals.
"Does it hurt?" he asked suddenly.
I looked at him. His face remained unreadable.
"What?"
"Losing your parents," he clarified, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the flowers.
I hesitated before answering. "I think... it does."
The truth was complicated. I didn't know Lily's parents personally—I had only inherited their absence, their memory carved in stone and felt through Julian's quiet grief. But even secondhand, the ache was there.
And my own? My lips tightened.
I barely missed them at all.
If I were being honest, there were times I wished they had died instead of lingering on in my life—ghosts who never left, dragging my soul behind them like a tattered shadow. Compared to Julian and Lily, who had loved and lost… I wasn't sure who had it worse.
At least their grief had meaning.
"You think that?" Alistair asked, his voice quieter now, edged with disbelief. He looked at me as though trying to read something behind my expression. I didn't know how to respond. What could I possibly say that didn't sound cruel or broken?
Before the silence could settle too heavily between us, a voice broke through the garden air.
"Your Highness," Julian called, bowing respectfully. "The Empress has requested your presence."
Alistair turned sharply. "My mother's here?" he said, surprise flickering across his face. Without waiting for a reply, he moved quickly, his princely composure cracking just enough to show something softer.
As he turned to leave, he glanced back over his shoulder, offering me a boyish smile. "Until we meet again."
And then he was gone, disappearing down the garden path with the sound of hurried footsteps fading behind him.
I stood there, motionless, the soft rustle of flowers the only sound left between the graves.
For some reason, warmth crept up my neck and bloomed across my cheeks.
I hadn't expected that—
Not the way he looked at me, not the way his smile lingered like it meant something.
And not the way it made me feel.