Aria POV
I'm hiding in a storage closet when the memories hit.
Not my memories. Hers. The original Aria's. They slam into my brain like a freight train—images, voices, feelings I didn't live through but somehow remember.
Lyanna smiling sweetly while slipping something into a letter. "Just sign here, sister dear."
A man in dark clothes counting gold coins. "The prince will never suspect. We'll make it look like true love."
Original Aria crying in her room, confused why everyone suddenly hates her. "But I never touched Prince Damian! I swear!"
Lyanna's voice, cold as ice: "No one will believe you. I've made sure of that."
I press my hands against my head, trying to separate my thoughts from hers. The original Aria was sweet. Trusting. She never saw it coming. Her own stepsister destroyed her life piece by piece, and she died not understanding why.
But I understand. Oh, I understand perfectly.
"That backstabbing, manipulative—" I punch the wall, ignoring the pain in my burned knuckles. In my old life, I dealt with corporate theft, patent fraud, sexist colleagues who took credit for my work. But this? This is a whole new level of evil.
Lyanna didn't just want the crown. She wanted to erase the original Aria from existence.
Well, congratulations, Lyanna. You succeeded. Original Aria is gone. But you got me instead. And I'm the nightmare version who knows exactly how to fight back.
I take a deep breath and step out of the closet. The workshop is chaos—guards running everywhere, servants putting out small fires from Damian's attack, Master Garrett shouting orders. Through the smoke, I see my half-built trebuchet standing like a skeleton against the dawn sky.
Five days left. I need to finish it while dodging rocket launchers and assassination attempts. Just a normal Tuesday.
"Lady Aria!" An apprentice runs up, his face panicked. "Prince Kael wants you in the throne room immediately! He says—"
"Tell him I'm busy saving his kingdom." I grab my tools. "I'll come when the weapon is finished."
"But he commanded—"
"Then he can command me in person." I turn back to the trebuchet. "Now help me calculate the counterweight ratio or get out of my way."
The apprentice hesitates, then grabs a rope. Smart kid.
We work in silence for an hour. My mind spins with calculations and revenge plots in equal measure. The trebuchet needs to throw a two-hundred-pound projectile three hundred yards with accuracy. The counterweight needs to be roughly 26,600 pounds if my math is right. We'll use sandbags and iron—
"My lady?" A soft voice interrupts. A young servant girl stands nearby holding a tray. "I brought you breakfast. You haven't eaten since yesterday."
I glance at the tray. Bread, cheese, dried meat, and a cup of something that smells like watered-down wine. My stomach growls. I haven't eaten in almost twenty-four hours.
"Thanks." I reach for the bread but stop. Something's wrong. The smell is off. Too sweet. Like almonds mixed with flowers.
In my old life, I took a forensic chemistry course for fun. And I recognize that smell.
Bitter almonds. Cyanide.
My hand freezes inches from the bread. I look at the servant girl—really look. She's young, maybe sixteen, with terrified eyes and shaking hands. There's a bruise on her wrist shaped like fingers.
"Who gave you this food?" I ask quietly.
"The... the head cook, my lady." Her voice trembles. "She said to bring it directly to you. Said you needed your strength."
"And did anyone else touch it? Add anything to it?"
The girl's face goes white. She knows. She knows something's wrong but she's too scared to say it.
I grab her wrist gently. "Look at me. You're not in trouble. But I need the truth. Did someone threaten you? Make you do this?"
Tears spill down her cheeks. "A lady came to the kitchens last night. Beautiful, with golden hair. She gave the cook gold coins and said to add 'special herbs' to your food. Said it would help you sleep better." The girl sobs. "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know it was poison until I smelled it, and by then—"
"Golden hair?" My blood turns to ice. "Was her name Lyanna?"
The girl nods miserably.
Lyanna. In the palace. After she supposedly fled or was arrested or whatever happened after Kael's men dragged her away. She's still here. Still hunting me.
I take the tray and walk to the window. Pour the entire thing out onto the cobblestones below. The bread lands in a puddle and within seconds, a rat scurries over to investigate. It takes one bite of the poisoned bread.
And drops dead instantly.
The servant girl screams.
"It's okay." I keep my voice steady even though I want to scream too. "You just saved my life by being nervous enough that I noticed. What's your name?"
"M-Mira, my lady."
"Well, Mira, from now on, you work directly for me. No more kitchen duty. You're my personal assistant." I turn to face her. "Your first job is to find Prince Kael and tell him his dear sister-in-law Lyanna is somewhere in this palace with access to poison. Can you do that?"
Mira nods frantically and runs off.
I turn back to my trebuchet, but my hands are shaking too hard to work. Three assassination attempts in two days. The note said they had six strikes left. That means three more tries before they give up or succeed.
I can't keep living like this. Waiting for the next attack. Reacting instead of acting.
Time to switch from defense to offense.
"Master Garrett!" I call out. "Change of plans. We're building two weapons, not one."
He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Two? We barely have time for one!"
"The second one is smaller. Faster to build. And it's not for Rothwyrd's walls." I grab a clean piece of parchment and start sketching. "It's for hunting assassins."
I draw quickly—a modified crossbow with a scope system, using mirrors and angled glass to see around corners. Add a trip-wire detection system using bells and string. And a portable alarm using metal plates that clang when pressure shifts.
Medieval security technology, engineered by someone from the future.
"You're insane," Master Garrett breathes, studying my designs.
"I'm practical." I add more details to the sketch. "I can't fight rocket launchers with arrows. But I can make sure no one poisons me, stabs me, or burns me alive without warning. We build this today."
Footsteps echo behind me. I turn and see Prince Kael striding into the workshop, his face dark as a thunderstorm. Behind him, guards drag someone in chains.
Lyanna.
They caught her.
She looks different than in the original Aria's memories. Wilder. Desperate. Her golden hair is tangled. Her dress is torn. But her eyes burn with pure hatred when she sees me.
"You," she hisses. "You should be dead! I've tried everything! Fire, poison, catapults! Why won't you just DIE?"
"Because I'm not the Aria you destroyed." I walk toward her slowly. "That girl was kind. Trusting. She believed people were good. She never saw you coming." I stop inches from her face. "But I see you perfectly. And I'm going to make sure everyone else sees you too."
Lyanna lunges at me, but the guards hold her back. "You're a demon! A monster! You don't belong in this world!"
"Funny." I smile coldly. "I was thinking the same thing about you."
Kael steps between us. "Lady Lyanna of Thornhaven, you are charged with attempted murder of a crown prisoner, bribery of servants, and conspiracy to commit treason. You will be held in the dungeons until trial."
"You can't do this!" Lyanna screams as guards drag her away. "My family will destroy you! I'll—"
Her voice cuts off abruptly. Too abruptly.
I see it happen in slow motion: Lyanna jerks violently. Her eyes go wide. She claws at her throat, gasping. White foam appears at her lips.
She collapses, convulsing.
"POISON!" Kael roars. "Get the healers! NOW!"
But I already know it's too late. I've seen cyanide poisoning before in chemistry demonstrations. She has maybe thirty seconds left.
I kneel beside her as she dies. Her eyes find mine, and for just a second, the hatred fades. Replaced by fear. Confusion. And one silent question:
Why?
Then she's gone.
Kael grabs my shoulder. "Did you do this?"
"No." I stand, my mind racing. "But I know who did. Someone who needed her silenced before she could reveal who else is involved in the conspiracy."
"The person from your time."
"Exactly." I look at Lyanna's body, feeling nothing. The original Aria might have felt pity. But I just feel cold calculation. "They just eliminated their loose end. Which means they're getting ready for their next move."
A guard runs in, gasping. "Your Highness! Prince Damian has been spotted at the northern border! He's leading an army! An army with weapons we've never seen before—they're demanding your surrender or they'll level the capital by sunset!"
Kael's face goes deadly calm. "How many men?"
"Five hundred, sir. But their weapons..." The guard swallows hard. "They have cannons, Your Highness. Real cannons that fire metal balls through stone walls like paper. We don't stand a chance."
I grab Kael's arm. "How long until sunset?"
"Six hours."
"Then that's how long I have." I turn to Master Garrett. "Round up every carpenter, blacksmith, and engineer in the city. We're finishing that trebuchet NOW. And we're adding a few surprises Damian's future friend won't see coming."
Kael studies my face. "Can you do it? In six hours?"
"I built a functional AI system in three days during my doctoral defense." I meet his eyes. "Watch me build a weapon that'll make your brother wish he'd stayed in his cell."
But as I turn back to my work, I see something that makes my blood run cold.
On Lyanna's dead hand, written in ink that's still wet: GPS coordinates and a date.
Today's date.
And the coordinates? They point to the exact spot where my lab exploded in 2024.
Someone didn't just send me back in time. They planned it. Calculated it. Used specific coordinates and timing.
This wasn't an accident.
This was an execution.
And I just realized: I'm not the hunter in this story.
I'm the prey.