The capital city of Elarion was a jewel of white spires and red-tiled rooftops, but Emma had no love for it. Not when every carriage that rolled by carried the possibility of a character she shouldn't meet yet. Not when every whispered conversation between nobles might be her death sentence.
It had been three days since she woke up in Lila Hart's body.
Three days of playing a noble daughter with grace and meek smiles. Three days of pretending she didn't know the futures of half the people she passed in the street. And three days of lying awake at night, wondering what that voice meant when it said:
"You are not Lila Hart."
On the morning of the fourth day, her worst fear came true.
The invitation arrived on cream-colored vellum, embossed with black wax bearing a sigil of thorns and crows.
The seal of House Blackwood.
Emma froze as she read it, her teacup hovering midair. Marah stood beside her, twisting her hands nervously.
"Is something wrong, miss?" she asked.
Emma didn't answer right away. Her eyes scanned the flowing script again and again, as if hoping the words would change.
To Lady Lila Hart,
You are cordially invited to a private gathering at House Blackwood to celebrate the return of His Grace, Lord Adrian Blackwood, from the Northern Campaign.
Your presence is humbly requested.
Lady Eleanor Blackwood
"Where did this come from?" Emma asked.
"The messenger said it came directly from the duchess herself," Marah replied. "By name."
Emma carefully set down her cup.
There was a problem—several, in fact.
First: Lila Hart had never received this invitation in the original novel. She shouldn't be on the guest list.
Second: Lord Adrian Blackwood—the cursed duke, the battlefield ghost, the man born under a dying star—was one of the most dangerous characters in the book. Ruthless. Brilliant. Untouchable. He wielded dark magic like it was breathing. And Emma knew exactly how his story ended.
With everyone around him either dead or destroyed.
The fact that she was being invited to his welcome-back gathering meant something had changed.
Something significant.
She forced her voice to remain calm. "Do we know who else is attending?"
Marah shook her head. "Only highborn guests, I assume. The duke's return has caused quite a stir. Even the Crown Prince is expected to make an appearance."
Emma nearly choked.
The Crown Prince too? That was two walking disasters in the same room.
Still, she didn't have the luxury to refuse. To do so would draw attention something she'd sworn to avoid. Nobles kept track of these things. Attendance was political. Declining without cause would raise eyebrows. Questions.
And questions led to exposure.
"I suppose I'll need a new gown," Emma murmured, folding the invitation carefully and tucking it away. "Something darker."
That Evening – Hart Estate, East Wing
Emma sat in her room, staring at the glowing twin moons through her window.
In the book, the moons had never been mentioned. But here they were: one silver, one tinged with violet, casting long shadows over the city below. Velmaria was full of details like that—beautiful, terrifying, and never written.
She was beginning to suspect the world had always been bigger than the story she'd read. The book had only shown a narrow path. Now, the forest was full of hidden trails and she had no map.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock.
Baron Hart entered, his face drawn with tension.
"You've received an invitation," he said.
"I know," Emma replied. "I was just preparing to…"
"Do you understand what this means?"
She looked at him.
He took a breath and crossed the room, lowering his voice. "The Blackwood family does not extend invitations lightly. Especially not to houses like ours. This is either an opportunity…" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "…or a trap."
Emma smiled faintly. Exactly.
"I'll be careful," she said.
"You must be more than that. You must be clever. Cunning. And charming. Do you think you can manage that?"
Emma met his gaze. "Watch me."
For a moment, something flickered in the Baron's expression. Surprise. Perhaps even pride. Then he nodded once and left.
Emma exhaled slowly. Cunning. Charming.
She could do that. She had to do that.
Because she knew what came next. The Blackwood estate was where the first major political twist of the novel took place. A secret meeting. A stolen artifact. An assassin hidden among the guests.
The only difference?
In the book, Lila Hart wasn't there.
Now, she would be.
And nothing was going to go according to plan.
Meanwhile in Blackwood Mansion
Far across the city, in a manor of dark stone and high arches, Adrian Blackwood stood beneath a wrought-iron balcony, watching the rain fall over the thorn gardens below.
He had returned from the north less than a week ago.
The war had ended. The rebels had scattered. His name had grown heavier in the mouths of his enemies.
But something was wrong. He could feel it.
A shift in the air. A silence between seconds. Like the world had tilted slightly off its axis and only he had noticed.
He turned as a servant approached.
"My lord," the man said, bowing. "The invitations have been sent."
Adrian nodded absently.
The servant hesitated. "There is... one you asked us to confirm. A Lady— Lila Hart. Shall we withdraw the offer?"
Adrian looked out at the rain again.
"No," he said quietly. "Let her come."