The day is proving to be a long one. It's still the early afternoon, but it feels as if two years have passed. It seems impossible that the tournament was this morning. I am still in my drawing room, sitting on the same sofa, but this time I am alone. It’s not that I don’t trust Sebastian to be here when I speak to Duke Virfain. Even if I didn’t, it’s already too late now. But it is clear his injuries are worse than my own, and I was able to convince him to see a doctor by assuring him I would see one afterward.   

  

And I also don’t quite know how to behave around him. I don’t know if he meant what I think he meant when we spoke before. His words were roundabout, but there is only one meaning I can think to take from them. How long has he known? What does he think? Does he hate me? Lyra is not the only one who has changed since I entered this webcomic. Sebastian is very different from the indifferent attendant that woke me up that first morning. It seems unlikely that he hates me or resents me. But still, I don’t know how to act.   

  

My mind is a mess. Too much has happened without enough time to process it for my brain to be of any use right now. Not only that, but my face is also extremely sore. There are no painkillers in this world, nothing that will get rid of a headache in twenty minutes like in my previous life. The only thing I can do is grin and bear it. It seems like a stupid decision to talk to the duke while I’m in this state, but I have no choice. The king was yelling what could be taken to be anger-fueled nonsense when I left his office, but he said two days. Two days is only forty-eight hours, and forty-eight hours in a world without phones and computers is like twenty minutes. If I don’t act now, the king could confine either myself or Rakan before either of us is able to do anything.   

  

I am desperately trying to remember the original webcomic to understand what is making the king so desperate for Giddeon’s army. There are no immediate threats of war or invasion, and the king’s personal army is nothing to laugh at. The only reasoning that makes sense is the king is planning on invading another kingdom or territory, but I don’t remember anything like that being mentioned in the story. Once again, I curse the author. Pages and pages of Giddeon drooling over Evangeline’s alabaster thighs and nothing about the political machinations of a king who is steel hungry. Again, if I ever meet the bitch that wrote this story, I’m gonna wring her neck.   

  

There is a knock at the door. Lizzie enters and curtseys.  

  

‘Your highness, the Duke of Riven is here.’ I rearrange myself in my chair, tidying my hair. There’s no point, it won’t hide the bruise, but for some reason knowing that Duke Virfain is about to see my face this way is making me feel subconscious.   

  

‘Thank you, Lizzie. Please let them in.’ I don’t look at the door. Instead, I busy myself with nothing, moving my hands just to have something else to look at.   

  

‘You asked to see me, your highness.’ When I hear their voice, something strange happens to my body. My heart speeds up and I feel my cheeks flush.   

  

‘Yes, thank you for coming, your grace.’ It’s extremely rude, but I am currently talking to the cushion in my lap rather than the duke.   

  

‘Your highness?’ I have to look at them. This is important, and the duke has helped me. They will find out eventually, and it’s better that they find out from me. But for some reason, I don’t want the duke to see my face.   

  

Eventually, after a few long moments, I raise my head and meet the duke’s gaze. For a few moments, there is nothing but silence. The duke’s face is still, unchanging. Time is still.  

  

‘Reynolds.’ The door to my drawing room opens and a woman walks in. She bows to the duke. ‘Fetch water, cloth, and ice. And Alvira, tell her it’s urgent.’   

  

‘Please, your grace, it’s not necessary.’ The duke looks at me but doesn’t say anything. They give the woman, presumably Reynolds, a sharp nod, and the door closes behind her.   

  

The room is quiet. My eyes are wandering again, not knowing where to look. There is the sound of footsteps, and when I turn to look the duke has crossed the room and is kneeling next to my chair. They raise their hands to my face.   

  

‘May I?’ I nod. Very gently, Duke Virfain takes my chin and slowly turns my head to the side, raising the bruise to the light. The movement hurts, and I wince automatically. The duke doesn’t let go, but instead moves my head back to its previous position. ‘Who did this?’   

  

‘Truly, I am fine, your grace. This isn’t why I called you.’ But that doesn’t satisfy them.  

  

‘Was it Hayden?’   

  

‘I think you mean Crown Prince Hayden.’  

  

‘No one who acts like this deserves a title.’ I have never seen that look in the duke’s eyes before. Sitting this close, with the light shining just so, the duke’s eyes are more purple than red. They are darker, and there is an anger there that worries me but also, strangely, comforts me.  

  

‘It was not Prince Hayden.’ Realisation settles onto the duke’s face.  

  

‘Baldwin.’ To use the king’s first name without any of his titles is blasphemy, almost treason. It shows a complete lack of respect that could lead to death. But the duke is no ordinary person.   

  

‘King Baldwin, you mean.’ The duke furrows their brow.  

  

‘Did he do this to you?’ I don’t look at them for a few moments. For some reason, I feel embarrassed, and I don’t know why. It’s not like this was an accident, it’s not like I fell or got into a fight. But I don’t want them to know who did it, why they did it. Because then I will have to explain and tell them the king also hurt Sebastian, and that it was me that angered him on purpose. I can’t handle anyone being disappointed in me right now, especially not this person.  

  

But finally, I answer.   

  

‘Yes, it was the king. But as I have said, I am fine, and I will see a doctor later…’ Rather than get angry like I thought they would, at me or at the king, the duke instead tucks my hair behind my ear, giving them a better look at my bruise, holding my face very gently in their hand.   

  

‘You are not fine. This is not fine, and you will see a doctor now.’ For some reason, their words make it very difficult not to cry.   

  

‘I need to speak to you first, your grace, alone. It’s important.’ The duke shakes their head.  

  

‘It cannot be more important than making sure you are well.’ They stand up and begin to walk back towards the door, but before they are too far, I reach for their hand.   

  

‘Your grace, please.’ They stop as I take their hand. ‘It’s Rakan.’ The duke watches me for a moment, then looks at my hand in theirs, and finally pulls another chair over next to mine. It is getting later in the day now, late afternoon I would say, and the sun is beginning to set. It casts a glow through the window that catches the duke’s white hair in just the right way, making it shine.   

  

‘Tell me.’   

  

‘The king says he will sell Rakan to the south if I don’t accept Duke Rasiel’s dowry.’ The duke nods.  

  

‘I see.’  

  

‘I cannot let my brother be sold off like cattle.’ This time the duke frowns.  

  

‘And yet your brothers were more than happy to watch you be sold off as such.’ I am quiet for a moment. The duke isn’t wrong. Before I transmigrated into this world, both of Lyra’s brothers were more than happy to pretend she didn’t exist. It seems like Prince Hayden is still happy with the arrangement, might even be resenting the changes my being here has brought about. But not Rakan. Rakan is different. He was the first person to help me, the first person to listen to me. He is Lyra’s brother, but he is also my brother now.  

  

‘That’s not quite right.’ But it’s almost impossible to explain that yes, Rakan would’ve gladly watched as Lyra was sold off, but I don’t think he would do the same to me. How could I even begin to explain that it’s me in here, not her?   

  

‘That’s not important. I require your help, your grace.’ I take a moment, take a breath, try to stop my head from ringing. ‘I require a favour.’ The duke doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. ‘You are leaving the capital to return to the north in a few days. Take Rakan with you.’ The duke keeps their eyes on my face.  

  

‘If I take Rakan and you stay, this will happen again.’ I know they’re referring to my face. I also know the duke is right. But I can’t do nothing. Sebastian is already hurt because of me. Not Rakan as well.   

  

‘I won’t let anyone else get hurt.’  

  

‘That is a lie, your highness.’ I open my mouth to speak, but the duke continues before I am able to say anything. ‘You are allowing yourself to be hurt.’  

  

‘There is something you don’t understand, your grace.’ I shy away from the duke a little, looking at the ground. ‘This is my fault. If someone else gets hurt, it will be my fault.’ Cautiously, a little unsure in a way that is not like them at all, the duke takes my hand. They hold it for a moment, as if waiting to see if I’ll pull away. I don’t.   

  

‘This is the king’s fault.’  

  

‘You don’t understand…’  

  

‘I do. I understand perfectly well, your highness. The king has hurt you, and the king has threatened to hurt someone else.’ The tears come then, and I hate it. It makes me feel weak, weaker than I already feel.   

  

‘He hurt Sebastian. I don’t want to see that again.’ I don’t look at the duke. I can’t.   

  

‘Let me do something else for you, your highness.’ But I barely hear the duke’s words. It’s happening again. My heart is beating loudly, so loud I feel like it will burst from my chest. I can’t breathe. My chest is tight. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get air in my lungs. I’m hyperventilating, Sebastian isn’t here to stop it, and suddenly I can’t see. I can’t hear. I’m on that roof again. The decision is being taken away from me again. I try to move my hands to my shoulders, try to do the butterfly hug, but my body won’t move.  

  

The duke squeezes my hand tightly, once, twice, three times, in a rhythm. Then they begin to tap my arm at the same time, slowly the way Sebastian has learned to. I try to match my breaths to their taps and eventually, after a few minutes, my breathing begins to slow down.  

  

‘H-how...?’ I manage to stutter out just one word.   

  

‘I have watched Sebastian.’ I open my mouth, but no words come out. I’m too busy trying to breathe, but I somehow manage to also be embarrassed. ‘I have seen others struggle to breathe, your highness.’ Although my breathing has calmed down, the duke doesn’t stop tapping. ‘Let me do something for you, your highness,’ the duke repeats.   

  

Neither of us speaks for a few moments. The sun is at the perfect angle right now, casting a glow over the whole room. It won’t set for another few hours, but I just want this day to be over now. It feels like everything bad that could happen has happened. Perhaps tomorrow will be better. But there is one thing I need to do before today can be over.   

  

‘Your grace, please, take Rakan with you.’ The duke shakes their head. ‘Please…’ They hold up their hand, silencing me.  

  

‘Marry me.’ I blink once, then twice. I open my mouth. Then I close it. Then there is a knock at the door.  

  

The duke gets up from their seat, crosses the room, and opens the door. The woman they called Reynolds walks into the room, followed by another woman. She is tall, with a large frame and very dark, cool-toned skin and dark, almost black eyes, her hair cropped close to her head. She is wearing robes that are dark red and carrying a leather pouch. When she sees the duke, she bows.   

  

‘Your grace.’ The duke returns the bow.  

  

‘Alvira.’ With no further words between them, the woman called Alvira approaches me, taking the seat the duke was previously sitting in. Reynolds places a handful of things on the small table next to my chair before also bowing to the duke and leaving. The duke stays by the door after she has left, meaning me and Alvira are practically alone.  

  

‘Your highness, my name is Alvira. I am a practitioner of medicinal magic in the north. With your permission, I will need to touch your face so I can heal it.’ I blink a few times.  

  

‘Magic?’ I am a little cautious. Despite having been in this world for two months now, I have heard no talk of magic. Demons and monsters, yes, in isolated parts of the kingdom that only concern the capital in a theoretical way. But magic, never. That said, during my old life, there was a chance you could go your whole life never hearing about quantum mechanics, or gravity, or anti-depressants, or microchips. But they existed, and everyone knew they existed. Magic may be the same in this world, so obvious and so prevalent no one really talks about it.   

  

But still, magic?  

  

‘Yes, your highness. It is practiced solely in the north, but if the duke has ordered me to practice in the capital, it is a sign of trust.’ Ah, I see. Magic exists, but it is a closed practice, and a somewhat secretive one at that. I frown. The duke trusts me. I’m not sure how difficult a position they are putting themselves in, allowing me to meet this person and see her practice, but I am grateful. Those two words bounce around my mind, ‘marry me’. But I push them away. There is no telling what the duke actually meant with those words, and there is a chance I misheard them. I look in the duke’s direction. They are watching me very closely.   

  

‘I am very grateful.’ Alvira nods as I say this as if my words are appropriate.   

  

‘May I touch your face, your highness?’ I nod my head.   

  

Alvira reaches out both her hands and cradles my face. A strange feeling starts to flow into my skin from her fingertips. Something about it reminds me of Evangeline, the warmth of it. Alvira closes her eyes and there are a few minutes of silence as that feeling spreads across my face and down my neck. The pain in my cheek and lip subsides a little, and my headache disappears. It’s like instant paracetamol. The warmth continues to spread until Alvira snatches her hands away from my face very suddenly. She is staring at me now, hands in her lap, a little breathless, her chest visibly rising and falling. I frown, opening my mouth to ask if something is wrong when Alvira very slightly shakes her head.  

  

‘I am going to ask you a question, your highness.’ Her voice is quiet now, so quiet I assume the duke would be unable to hear. ‘The question may shock you. If it does, I ask that you not show it.’ For a few moments, Alvira says nothing, and I realise she is waiting for me to answer her.  

  

‘I will try.’ I also lower my voice, not looking at the duke as I do, afraid I look suspicious and immediately feeling guilty.   

   

‘Have you died before?’ I blink a few times. Then my heart starts beating a million miles an hour, uncontrollably and worse than before. Alvira reaches out and takes my hands in hers. My anxiety immediately loses its edge.  

  

‘H-how…?’  

  

‘You suffer from melancholy, your highness, but a peculiar one. It seems that it does not belong to the body.’ She pauses for a moment, as if unsure of how to go on. ‘When I touch your body, I can feel that it wants to be alive. But there is something else that has already died, and perhaps would like to again.’ I shake my head, not really thinking.  

  

‘Not again.’ But Alvira does not look at me like a villain. Instead, she leans back in her seat, seemingly deep in thought.  

  

‘I have healed the more serious injuries, but not the bruise in its totality for fear of raising suspicion.’ I nod, a little unsure as a faraway look comes into Alvira’s eyes. After a few moments, she speaks again. ‘I think I should visit you again.’  

  

‘But the bruise will heal on its own.’  

  

‘I think you know I refer to less trivial things than bruises, your highness.’ She looks at me now and her eyes are piercing despite their darkness. ‘I have met with people like yourself before, a handful of times, and because of that I fear for your safety.’ I do not look at Alvira. I look instead at the duke, who is looking back at me with those eyes of theirs that change colour depending on the light.  

  

‘I will not force you, your highness.’ Alvira gets up from her seat, rearranging her robes as she does. ‘If you feel any more pain, please have the duke call me. I shall speak with them before I leave.’ But before Alvira walks away I grab her hand in a panic. She looks at me and I immediately let go.  

  

‘I’m sorry.’ But Alvira doesn’t look angry or upset. Instead, she takes my hand again.  

  

‘I will tell them nothing unless you ask me to.’ I believe her. The words are like magic, and I immediately relax.   

  

Alvira bows to me, a very short shallow one, and I return it as best I can in my seated position. She crosses the room and stops opposite the duke for a moment, not even a minute, speaking to them quietly, before leaving the room. A silence follows her that is weighted. Neither I nor the duke move for a very long time. I am waiting for them to say something, to confirm that what I heard previously was correct or perhaps a misunderstanding. My mind is reeling from Alvira’s words, the king’s actions, Giddeon’s threats. This day has been the longest day of my life, and I am very bitter about the fact that it’s still not over.  

  

Finally, the duke crosses the room and takes their previous seat. They turn to face me.  

  

‘Marry me, your highness.’ I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. I don’t know where to look, so I look anywhere but at the duke. After a few more moments of weighted silence, the duke continues.  

  

‘I don’t expect a real marriage. I am aware that I am a rather... unique individual, and I don’t necessarily inspire affection of a familial or romantic kind’ They pause for a moment. I sneak a look at their face, and the expression there is harrowing before it disappears and is replaced with their normal unreadable expression. ‘It would be a contract marriage.’   

  

Despite everything that is happening, despite the two months I have spent here, the very real threats, and my desire to treat this world and its people as my new reality, I almost cannot stop myself from laughing. It is the most cliché transmigration plot device. Typically, it would be me, the transmigrator, proposing if I want to keep true to the cliché. And I considered it. Before meeting the duke, I thought marriage would be the quickest way to pull myself apart from Giddeon. But then I met the duke, and I realised they have no concern for hierarchy or tradition, had power enough to disregard the crown prince. Marriage seemed like the last thing the duke would want.   

  

But here they are, offering it to me.   

  

‘A contract marriage?’ I do not understand, and from the look on the duke’s face, they are also a little unsure. It seems the duke is deciding what to tell me and what to hide.   

  

‘I do not believe Baldwin should be on the throne.’ The words sit heavily in the air between us. To utter such words is treason punishable by death. To utter them in the palace is suicide. I stare at the duke, stunned. ‘Do not fear, your highness, I do not intend to place my name in the line of succession.’ I shake my head.  

  

‘That is not...' But I can’t get the words out, and that isn’t important right now. ‘Your grace, this is treason.’ I look around the room, making sure only me and the duke are in the room.   

  

‘It is not treason for the sake of power, your highness. It is treason for the greater good.’ I don’t know how to respond to their words, with so many thoughts running through my head. ‘I always considered Baldwin a mediocre ruler at best, but there have been many rumours. By coming to the capital and meeting you, your highness, I have confirmed that several of these rumours are true and am therefore inclined to believe that others might be as well.’ As the duke keeps talking, I find it difficult to keep up.   

  

‘Your grace, I’m sorry, I still don’t understand how marrying me will help you.’ The duke nods.   

  

‘By being your partner, I would hope to leverage my connection to your family to replace Baldwin with his son, or someone more suitable. In my mind, it is the less volatile and underhanded method.’ The duke meets my gaze. ‘I understand that this is somewhat... unconventional. I also understand that this is no small thing to ask. I do not offer it without considering what you might also gain from such an arrangement. If you decide to take the contract, I shall stay in the capital, you may move into my residence, and I shall protect you and your people until you are in such a position that you can protect them yourself.’  

  

‘I cannot leave Rakan here, or Sebastian, Amelinne, or Evangeline…’  

  

‘You do not need to leave them, your highness. I have rooms enough for them all.’ I frown at this, a little confused, very much overwhelmed.  

  

The duke’s words hold weight. It is risky, very risky, to even think of making such a treasonous deal. But I have been backed into a corner. I must protect Rakan from the king, and it is likely I will also have to protect Evangeline from the same person. The king may be violent, a prolific drinker, and at best a useless figurehead, but he is still the king. There is only so much I can do when I hold such little power, especially after I have angered Prince Hayden in such a public manner. I have very few allies, and politically none of them hold much power. The duke may not be well-known or well-established in the capital’s social circles, but they hold enough power to ignore the crown prince. I need that. I have severely underestimated the lengths both Giddeon and the king will go to to keep this engagement intact. It will take more than a new deal or a public display to get rid of Giddeon for good.   

  

‘I need to speak to my brother first.’ The duke nods.   

  

‘I understand.’ I take a moment to try and organise my thoughts before speaking again.   

  

‘I understand that this would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. I would like you to know, your grace, that I am extremely grateful to be offered such a contract.’ I pause for a moment, trying to force my brain to work at least a little bit faster than the glacial pace it is currently operating at. With everything that has happened, I’m scared I’ll make a decision unable to fully think through the consequences. I can’t even begin to understand why the duke has made such an offer, particularly to me.  

  

‘I also understand that I am not the only one you could’ve made such an arrangement with. I do not possess much power beyond my claim to the throne, and even that is tenuous at best when you think about my reputation.’ I sigh, then shake my head. ‘I apologise if this is rude, but I don’t understand why you have offered this marriage to me.’  

  

The duke looks away for a few moments before answering me.  

  

‘The Virfain duchy has never involved itself in the affairs of the capital. It has always been a territory with more pressing concerns, with constant subjugations necessary to keep the peace. I fear our silence has been mistaken by others as weakness. There is pillaging on our borders, increased requests for taxes, surveys of our military forces by representatives of the crown.’ I know what this means. I remember reading about it when researching military strategy. This means preparations for war. But there is no immediate threat of war against the kingdom, Rakan assured me of this when I was trying to find an alternative to Giddeon. This means the king himself is likely preparing to rage war. But against who? And why?  

  

‘I do not ask you to care about my duchy, or its people, your highness. That is my duty, and I shall see to it, even if it means dethroning a king.’ I watch the duke closely. They are serious.   

  

‘If it is your duty to care for your duchy, then as a princess it is my duty to care for my kingdom.’ I pause for a moment, letting my words sink in, letting the weight of them sit in the air for a moment. ‘And for that reason, I will do what I can to help you. The king cannot be left on the throne.’ There is a look on the duke’s face that I find difficult to describe, and it makes my heart do strange things. ‘But I will need to speak to my brother first, your grace.’ The duke nods.   

  

‘Of course, your highness.’ The duke meets my gaze, their eyes changing from purple to red as the sun moves from behind a cloud and illuminates the room. ‘And please, call me Elyon.’   

  

I blink a few times, shocked. A blush immediately heats up my face and my gaze falls on my hands in my lap.    

  

‘Yes, well then you shall have to call me Lyra in return.’    

  

‘It would be my pleasure, Lyra.’ Elyon takes my hand as they say this. When I look up, I see a ring on my third finger. It is beautiful, a delicate sapphire with a silver band. ‘A token of the contract. You may return it if you change your mind.’ I smile a little ruefully at this, the first time since this morning.   

  

‘It seems you are not allowing me much room to change my mind.’ I cannot see Elyon’s face, but there is a lighter tone to their voice.   

  

‘I would not dare do such a thing.’ There are a few moments of quiet, and I can hear the wind outside as it blows through the large tree that stands next to my window, shielding most of the room from the sun.  

  

‘You have placed a great deal of trust in me today. I hope I prove to be worthy of it.’ Elyon has not let go of my hand, and as I say this, they tighten their grip, rubbing their thumb across my knuckles.   

  

‘You need not prove anything.’ And then, very slowly, so that I can pull away at any moment, Elyon places a kiss on the back of my hand. ‘I’m sure you want to see your brother, and Forbes will be eager to check on you.’ Elyon gets up from their seat. I don’t want to let go of their hand, but the duke places it back in my lap, turning the sapphire this way and that before finally taking a step back. ‘I will return tomorrow.’ I nod.   

  

‘I look forward to it.’ With that, the duke leaves.   

  

I stare out the window. My head no longer hurts, and the pain in my face is almost nonexistent now. But I’m tired. Too tired to be shocked, too tired to think over everything that has happened. And the day isn’t over. It’s time to find Rakan.