The royal physician, a man whose jowls seemed to battle gravity perpetually, fussed over Antoinette with the air of a seasoned general surveying a battlefield. "Hmm," he rumbled, his brow a landscape of worry lines. "A most curious case."

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Curious? I'm a mafia guy in a princess dress, doc. That's beyond curious. That's a sitcom waiting to happen. And I'm pretty sure I'm the laugh track."

He turned to the King, his expression a masterpiece of professional concern. "Your Majesty, the Princess appears to be suffering from a severe episode of… nervous exhaustion."

The King frowned, "Nervous exhaustion? But she was fine earlier."

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "They're buying the weak princess act. Good. Keeps them off balance. Let them think they know what's going on."

The physician shrugged, "Delicate constitutions, Your Majesty. Like fine china, easily shattered. And these wounds… they speak of a struggle."

"She claims an attack," the King said, voice tight, "but the broken window suggests she fled first. We are investigating both possibilities."

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Let them chase their tails. Confuse the enemy, that's the key. Make 'em think I'm running scared while setting the traps."

The physician nodded, "Rest is paramount. And this salve, a royal secret, naturally."

Marie, bless her soul, applied the salve with a gentle touch. Ethan suppressed a wince.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Loyal help. I'll need that. Keep the allies close. And find more."

After the physician's departure, the King ordered extra guards. "Find who did this," he commanded. "And why she left her room like this."

The princesses, their faces masks of concern (or something suspiciously like glee), nodded.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "They hate her. Perfect. I'll use that. Turn their hate into my advantage. Make them fight each other while I watch."

The King left, and the sisters remained, their eyes like daggers.

"She's so weak," Princess Grace murmured a hint of pity in her voice.

"Attention-seeking," Princess Thea scoffed. "Always dramatic."

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Weak? Dramatic? Just wait. Antoinette's getting a makeover. A reputation change. They'll learn to respect... or fear her."

Marie brought chamomile tea. Ethan sipped, feigning weakness.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Keep quiet. Listen. Observe. Learn their secrets. Know their moves."

As Marie tended to his wounds, Ethan's mind raced. He had to find out who wanted Antoinette dead. He had to understand this court, this game.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "This isn't a game for amateurs. I need a plan. A real plan. Every angle covered, every possibility accounted for. Like a good heist."

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He thought of the 3 sisters. They hated Antoinette. He would use that hatred.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "When the time's right, they'll be gone. Like they never existed. They should have never underestimated her."

He thought of the King, his worry genuine.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "He's not just a king. He's a father. Remember that. Don't underestimate him. Or trust him too much."

He was Ethan, in a princess's body, in a royal court, playing a game of power. He would use every trick he knew, every instinct he had, to survive.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Adapt. Change. Be whatever they expect. Until they least expect it. Then, strike."

The silence in the room thickened, broken only by the soft rustle of Marie's movements as she tidied the bedside table. Ethan, still feigning sleep, felt the weight of the princesses' gazes, sharp and probing. He knew they were trying to decipher his act, to find any crack in his carefully constructed facade.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Keep it steady. Don't flinch. Don't even twitch a toe. They're looking for weakness. Don't give them any."

The air crackled with unspoken tension. He could almost hear the gears turning in their minds, the calculations and suspicions swirling within their elegant heads.

"She's been acting strange lately," Princess Catherine finally murmured, her voice low and conspiratorial. "More withdrawn than usual."

"Perhaps she's finally cracking under the pressure," Princess Grace suggested, a hint of satisfaction in her tone. "It can't be easy, being the overlooked princess."

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Overlooked? They'll be overlooking their own graves if they keep this up."

"Or perhaps," Princess Thea said, her voice sharp and calculating, "she's planning something. Something we don't know about."

A flicker of unease rippled through Ethan. Had they seen through his act? Had they sensed the change within Antoinette's body?

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Don't panic. They're guessing. Just guessing. Keep them guessing. That's the game."

He forced his breathing to remain slow and even, his body completely relaxed. He had to project an image of vulnerability, of weakness, to lull them into a false sense of security.

"Nonsense," Princess Grace scoffed. "What could she possibly be planning? She's always been a timid mouse."

"Timid mice can bite," Princess Thea retorted, her eyes narrowing. "Especially when they're cornered."

The conversation shifted, the princesses now dissecting Antoinette's past behavior, searching for any clues, any hints of hidden motives. Ethan listened intently, absorbing every word, every nuance.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "They know her better than I do. Use that. Learn her history, her habits, and her weaknesses. Turn them into strengths."

He learned that Antoinette was indeed quiet, reserved, and often overlooked. She was seen as the gentle, unassuming princess, content to fade into the background.

----------------------------------------

The princesses eventually left, their voices fading down the hallway. Ethan, finally alone, opened his eyes. He stared at the ornate ceiling, his mind racing.

He had to move quickly. He couldn't afford to waste time playing the damsel in distress. He needed to gather information, to understand the dynamics of the court, to identify his enemies.

He sat up, wincing slightly as his "wounds" protested. He moved to the window, peering out at the palace gardens. The guards, now doubled in number, patrolled the grounds, their eyes scanning the shadows.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "They're tightening security. Good. Makes things interesting. Time to find some blind spots."

He turned back to the room, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. He needed to find a way to move freely, to gather information without raising suspicion.

(Ethan's Internal Monologue): "Time to play dress-up. And time to find out what secrets this princess is hiding."

He moved to the wardrobe, his fingers brushing against the silk and lace of Antoinette's gowns. He needed a disguise, something that would allow him to blend in, to move undetected, especially at night. A simple servant's dress wouldn't cut it for nighttime exploration; he needed something less conspicuous and more… uniform.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was nearing dusk, the perfect time to begin his nighttime excursion. He needed something that would conceal his face and allow him to move freely through the palace.