“What do you think you are doing?” Deckard yells at me.

It takes him a few steps to approach me before he pushes away the candle. The flames instantly catch the tablecloth on fire. Deckard grabs a jug from the table and dumps the contents onto the flame to prevent the entire house catching on fire. Whatever was in the glass spreads across the table in a bright red stain, almost looking like an open wound. ‘A bad sign’ I think to myself. Slowly raising my head, my eyes fall onto my angered brother. Despite being feral, he doesn’t scold me, rather yanks me by the wounded hand.

“Yikes!” I manage to squeal.

“Hush. Let me have a look,” I immediately freeze, while Deckard brings my injured wrist up to his lips and quietly whispers something unrecognisable. His breath is cold to the skin, yet the pain gradually subsides, although the burn looks the same.

“What did you do to it?” I ask surprised.

“You better explain yourself to me. Why the hell… Damn it. Are you out of your mind?”

There is tension in the air, I can feel a blush forming on my cheeks. How can I explain all of this?

“I’m sorry for being a burden and causing an inconvenience,” I say whatever that comes to mind first.

“Huh?” He raises his eyebrows, as if he was dumbstruck. All the anger suddenly leaves his face and is replaced with bewilderment.

“Hello? Did I say something… wrong?”

“No… No, it’s not that… You apologised. This is so unlike you, Victoria,” he takes a step back, observing me. I can feel myself shrinking under his gaze.

“I noticed this before. During dinner,” he says, squinting. “You are… like…” He pauses, yet I know what he is going to say, ‘like a different person’. Is that what he was going to say? Anxiety presses down on me, it becomes hard to breathe. What will happen if I get exposed?

Although… this is a different world, there must be other ways.

Almost as if reading my mind, Deckard continues, “This on top of the fainting. Do you want to enlighten me on what is going on?”

“No,” I squeak, while desperately trying to think how the real Victoria would’ve reacted if she were here. Yet, my thinking is cut off by Deckard.

“I want to take you to the Magic Professor. He could, you know. Run some tests…”

“I don’t get it, where is all this worry coming from? Weren’t you the one who said I’m not your real sister? The hell do you want from me?!” Voice sharp and venomous, lips fold into a grin which is so unlike me, as if a piece of real Victoria still exists deep down inside this body. Or what if… What if this is from the book?

“Well, now I can tell you are okay,” this exchange between the siblings feels way more familiar to him.

“I was before I met you, duh.”

“Now you talk,” he scowls. “So why did you burn your hand?”

“I blacked out.”

“Cut the crap, I need the truth.”

“Couldn’t care less what you need.”

“How dare you…” He clenches his fists. “You are just as crazy as your mother. You dirty blood.”

He falls silent, yet his eyes full of hatred and… something else? Some sort of hidden desire. The gaze slides up and down my body. From the deep eyes to bright lips, slips down the long neck, to the cleavage. Then his stare lingers. Hell, this is bad. I’m only missing this ‘brotherly love’ in life.

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“All the best to you. Thanks for the help,” I mutter, getting up from my seat, hurrying towards the exit. I have to get out of here as soon as possible.

Not only that, but I can sense him burning a hole in my back, I expect him to call out my name, however, it never comes.

Running down the corridor, I quickly find my room and shut the door.

After a minute of contemplation, I lower my eyes to the burnt wrist, a fresh wound is forming there, I hope this works in the end.

This world scares me, I haven't been here for long, and I am already reaching my limits, my nerves are giving up on me. It scares me to even imagine what is going to happen at the Ball. My thoughts unintentionally shift back to my real world. Quiet evenings with a good book spinning in my head, studying, work…. I never truly appreciated what I had, the peace, the tranquillity of my old life. I try to push further and remember what happened in the last days in my real world, and why can't I recall a single memory of it except the very last moment? Am I really dead? My mum must be grieving…

I stop myself from these thoughts, there is no turning back, no tears will help, I need to get myself together and think straight. After all, I have an upper hand in this world because I know the plot of the book, this means I can change it, right?

A knock on the door disrupts the train of thoughts.

“Yes?”

“This is Lily. The maid. Your brother sent me over. May I come in?” The girl enters before the reply could form in my mouth, as if my opinion means nothing. Although, not going to lie, it falls below anyone else in this house.

Lily turns out to be a pretty young lady with freckles all over her face. In her hands there is a basin filled with water and some bandages.

“Sir Deckard said you hurt yourself during dinner. I was told to treat your wounds.”

“I can do it myself, thank you.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she gives me a half smile which is only used by doctors at asylums. “He told me it is important.”

I sigh, but extend my hand, so she can do her thing.

After treating the wound, Lily wraps a thick layer of bandage around my wrist, she orders me to wear it for the next four days and bids me goodbye.

This is some good news.

I know from the book that covering wrists is considered rude among Alan’s clan, however, not when it comes down to health problems. So far, everything goes according to my plan, I can prepare for the Ball and not worry about anything.

***

The next two days flew by. Preparations for the Ball took a lot of time and effort, I was followed by servants wherever I went, Lily would never leave my side. This made me wonder — did Deckard sent all of them to make sure I’m safe and sound and don’t do ‘anything stupid’? To him, this must seem like a split personality and how he is going to interpret the burn is a big mystery to me.

Thank Goodness Victoria never was a smart kid.

In the spare minutes from the preparations, I walk around the estate, trying to memorise the layouts of the rooms. It would raise suspicions if I can’t find a kitchen in the house where I lived for the past fourteen years.

For a person living off a scholarship and a part-time job, the house looks like a museum. Carved furniture, gold stucco and magical items here and there.

Clothing, however, in this world bothers me. Tight corsets appear very much depressing to me, they are truly beautiful, and it turns out breathing in it isn't as difficult as I expected, though, it is the matter of lacing them up. The maids do help, of course, yet how uncomfortable it is when a stranger dresses you up, they do the hair and even present during bathing procedures. So, every evening I have to fight for my right to clean my body.

As for the Ball, I would prefer to wear something more or less modest; however, there is nothing close to ‘discrete’ in Victoria's arsenal.

The Earl of Lemeria seems to be taking the Ball very seriously, the best jewellers, designers, and stylists come over every day.

Finally, when everything is ready, the hair, shoes, and the dress, all together it shines so bright, it is almost blinding.

It appears to me that the only thing the father sees in his daughter is the appearance, this is why he tries his best to show Victoria off. Maybe he thinks that the shine from all the diamonds will blind everyone, and they will forget about his daughter's nasty personality.

I guess, in a way it works, when Deckard sees me in full attire, he freezes with a cup in his hand halfway to his mouth. Servants suddenly become smiley, this makes the Earl of Lemeria glow with pleasure.

The bandaged wrist is covered in bracelets, so there is nothing to fear. But then it hits me. I thought the same thing when I planned to ditch the Ball completely and everything went wrong. So, what if there is no way for me to change the plot?

‘Okay, enough with all this negativity,’ I think at the back of my head. ‘It was a coincidence. Alan won’t even look at me,’ I calm myself down.

With this attitude, I get inside the carriage, then enter the King’s palace. The atmosphere there impresses me, which makes all the fears vanish.

Until I see him.