It was too much to take in all at once. There was her collapse at the Blooming ceremony, and the subsequent worries and rumors that came from it. Then there were the memories of another life, of another world even, and as implausible as it sounded she was increasingly convinced that those memories were in some way real; the drawings on her desk were a testament to that. Of course, that only brought up greater questions, like why she now had those memories at all. Finally, on top of everything else, there was the recent revelation that, if those memories were to be believed, her life and perhaps all of Estelar may be in danger.
Once again, she felt herself beginning to panic, her chest constricting and each breath a shallow gulp. It was like a ball of lead had settled deep in her stomach, a heavy weight that threatened to pull her whole body down into terror. She balled her hands into a tight fist, her nails pressed into her palms until it began to hurt, forcing herself to stay calm. It didn’t work perfectly--the panic was still there, still threatening to overwhelm her--but at least it gave her enough control to slow her breath down. Christine’s memories provided her with a breathing exercise and Alicia latched onto it, breathing in for a count of four, holding for a count of seven, then out for a count of eight. Slowly, she wrestled control back of her own mind.
The next step was to compartmentalize. It wasn’t a long term strategy, but she knew that she couldn’t address everything at once. If she just addressed things one at a time, then she could make plans, and then she could take action.
“First things first,” she said out loud, in part just to ground herself. The night had been deep and quiet, but now through the window she could see the first hints of dawn. She pushed back the comforters and left the bed, the varnished wood floor cold on her bare feet. Crossing over to her desk, she grabbed a new piece of paper and a pencil. It felt slightly profane to ruin such clean paper with writing, but it would help her focus her mind to write things down.
Pressing the pencil to the page, she began to write, enumerating the list of issues and leaving space below each one to later write potential solutions. At the end, she was left with a page that read:
An Account of My Concerns:
* My Illness and Collapse Following the Blooming Ceremony
* Rumors Surrounding Said Collapse
* Strange Memories and Skills from Christine
* The Predicted War With a Foreign Nation
* My Predicted Destruction
Strangely, just the act of writing it down really did make her feel better. She put her finger on the first item and quietly began to talk to herself, trying to puzzle out a solution. “The issue of my collapse is one in which I have little control; and besides, Doctor Hadwick seems convinced that there is nothing to worry about. All that I need to do is ensure I can in fact conduct magnolic energy, and I am discouraged from trying that for at least another week.”
Below the first item, she wrote Ignore until I can properly test. Even considering that she may still be Wilted or otherwise magnolically crippled triggered a sharp spike of nerves, but there was a certain relief in knowing there was nothing to be done either way; all she could do was wait and see.
“Next are the rumors that I Wilted. Hopefully, Prince Alsander will put some of those to rest.” She considered this for a moment, then frowned. It seemed like a poor decision to base any plans on her fiancé behaving in her best interest. “Best not to rely on that. It would be preferable to arrange some showcase of my magnolic prowess in order to truly put such rumors to rest. I suppose that too will have to wait until I’ve fully recovered.”
Beneath the second item, she wrote Find a way to show a successful Blooming, preferably without directly addressing the rumors. If nobody brought it up, it would be an inexcusable sign of weakness to directly address any gossip. In fact, she had no guarantee that other nobles were even talking about her; afterall it would be just like the Prince to invent such a thing just to see her embarrass herself.
“Which brings me to the issue of Christine’s memories, and the skills that I seem to have inherited.” She tapped the back of the pencil against the page. The memories seemed like a double-edged blade, as likely to hurt her as to strike down her foes. While they had so far seemed helpful, she was well aware that the memories could not be trusted, nor would it be a good idea to reveal them to anyone else. At best she would be seen as mad, at worst she might be labeled a blasphemer for claiming the existence of another world beyond the enneadic divinity.
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What made them even more unreliable was that she did not seem to have any control over the memories. She might see something that would trigger a specific memory from Christine’s life, but she had no way to search through those memories and pluck information from them. It was as if they only came into her mind when she had need of them, which made it quite difficult to test their accuracy. Alicia did have one concrete test, however. She looked at the five drawings she made, the men who Christine had called the ‘capture targets’. Each was striking in his own way; they would be recognizable even as children. “If I can confirm that the other four men are who the memories claim they are, that would go a long way in affirming the accuracy of the memories.”
“As for the skills, I suppose there are two options then. Either I can try and act as if I don’t possess those skills, or I can use them to their fullest.” She knew that the least suspicious option was to not use her newfound skills, but that seemed like a mistake. For one thing, both Lucille and Miss Hartwright had seen evidence of her new abilities in art and math, respectively, and it would be difficult to convince them otherwise. However, she was also aware that it would be a poor idea to draw suspicion. Would it be possible for her to carefully use the newfound skills, such that she didn’t bring too much attention to herself?
“Perhaps I could gradually reveal skills, to make it seem as though I’ve learned them? But it’s probably safe to be myself around Lucille,” she mused, the pencil still hovering over the page. “It’s more dangerous to do so around Miss Hartwright, but that may be a necessary risk.”
Finally, she wrote, Confirm the accuracy of the memories.
That just left the last two points. “Can I assume that the game she was talking about has any bearing on my own life?” She absently bit her thumbnail, deep in thought. It was a habit that she shared with Christine, one that her etiquette classes had never managed to fully break. “Although that may not be the correct question. Rather, can I afford to assume otherwise?”
It seemed incredible that another country would decide to invade Estelar, since there was no way to approach the country but by sea and it was common knowledge the Royal Navy was the strongest in the world. However, she recalled that Christine had mentioned some artifact that could greatly enhance magical power. If such a circuit was created, she could see it tipping the balance in favor of the lesser navies of Farcouis, just across the channel, or the southern state of Ethpalla. Admittedly, Alicia didn’t know much about warfare, but from her limited knowledge it seemed feasible.
If Christine’s tale was to be trusted, the heroine and her chosen man would triumph in the end. However, Alicia knew enough of war to know that would come at the cost of countless deaths, untold destruction, and--perhaps most importantly--Alicia’s own life as well. At present, however, she had no idea of how to avert such a disaster. She could tell either her father or Prince Alsander, but she had no idea of how to convince them
“I should prioritize avoiding my own destruction as well. Although it seems ridiculous that I could somehow be stripped of power and authority. It’s unfortunate that Christine didn’t say what the retribution would be, but I suppose it would need to be something as dramatic as a broken engagement--”
Alicia froze, gripping the pencil hard in her hand. She had never concerned herself much with matters of power or finance; after all, as the daughter of a Duke, there were few who would dare to offend her. What’s more, as the fiancé of a prince, she had no reason to be concerned for the future either. Since she was born, Alicia had been destined to become an ornamental princess, the wife of a prince who would in all likelihood never ascend to the throne. Now, though, she had suddenly realized how flimsy that authority truly was.
Her position and influence was merely borrowed from the men in her life; from her father, from Prince Alsander, some perhaps even from her brother Lewis, but none of it truly belonging to her. Should the Prince decide to annul their engagement and blame Alicia, it was feasible that her father would disown her rather than accept the displeasure of the royal family.
“No, that’s ridiculous,” she told herself, but the shaking of her voice belied her words. “It’s laughable, even.” And yet she was not laughing. The Prince had never been subtle in expressing his disdain for her; was it really such a stretch to assume that might carry over to annulment, should he find someone he prefers? Such a thing was rare, but the royal family had nearly absolute power in Estelar. Should it be in their political interest, Queen Anabelle could break the engagement, burden Alicia with the blame, and neatly avoid both palimony and prejudice.
The sun had risen above the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds outside. In the hallways of the manor, she could hear the sounds of the servants beginning to wake and go about their duties. Her nightgown was soft against her skin. In a couple of hours, Lucille would come to wake her up and help her get dressed, as she always did, in exchange for some meager coin every month. Was her whole life really so ephemeral that it could be snatched away with a few words from one man?
She was gripping the pencil so hard that it was a surprise it hadn’t snapped. In that moment, Lady Alicia Senius made a decision, one that would shape her years to come and the whole kingdom besides. At the bottom of the page, she wrote just two words, a plan to reverse the destruction that she was increasingly convinced was her fate:
Acquire power.