Warmth.
That was the first thing I felt soft sheets, velvet against my skin, and the golden kiss of morning sun. It was wrong. The battlefield had been cold. Bloody. My chest had been torn open by Khalid's sword… and yet, here I was.
Alive?
I opened my eyes, slowly. High ceilings of white marble stretched above me, draped with silken banners of blue and silver. A room far too grand, too delicate to belong to a soldier like me.
I tried to sit up and immediately felt the foreignness in my limbs. Slender. Unfamiliar. My hands were pale and smooth, not calloused from years of sword training. My breath caught in my throat as I stumbled to the nearest mirror.
The reflection wasn't mine.
Hair like spun silver. Eyes the color of cold ocean mist. A sharp, noble jawline and long lashes. And atop my head a delicate golden circlet.
No. No, this couldn't be—
The door burst open.
"Your Highness!" A maid rushed in, relief flooding her face. "You're awake. Thank the stars everyone feared the fever would take you."
"Fever…?" My voice sounded different. Softer. Regal.
The pieces clicked together slowly, painfully.
I wasn't in my body anymore.
I was in his.
Crown Prince Flynn Winterbell.
The heir to the enemy kingdom. The same prince I'd seen from afar during battles. The one we were sworn to destroy.
Why me? Why here?
Before I could ask, a guard stepped in, bowing deeply. "His Grace Duke Khalid Caelum requests an audience, Your Highness. He has arrived from the south."
Khalid.
My heart stopped.
He was here.
The man who betrayed me killed me. Who left me to die with a smile on his lips. The man who had once looked at me like I was the only person who mattered.
And now… he was coming to see me again.
My breath shook.
I wasn't ready. But I had no choice.
I would face him.
And this time… I wouldn't be the one bleeding.
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