CHAPTER TWO-THE REPLACEMENT 

THALIA 

Lucian lay sprawled at my feet with wide lifeless eyes. The party was in full swing and I was outside. 

But this already happened. 

I had already lived this moment, I chased the assassin, I fell…

My fingers instinctively went to my head, there was no injury and no single drop of blood. 

“Okay, this is weird.” 

But didn't I die?

I cracked my skull open on the marble stairs and bled out on the cold floor while Mother screamed for Lucian and no one even noticed I was there.

But now I was here again. Kneeling beside my brother's corpse. 

And the assassin stood behind me, again. The moment I turned to them—they bolted, again. 

My first instinct was the same as before, to chase them.

Catch them. Stop them. Make them pay for what they had done.

But my hand was already reaching for the hem of my dress, already touching the place where my ankle had twisted, reminding me that I had died trying to catch someone I had no hope of catching.

“What if I don't chase them this time?”

The thought was ice-cold and calculating in a way I had never been before. What if instead of running after the killer like a fool, I did something else? Something that would actually matter?

Because here was the truth I had learned in those final moments before the darkness took me. 

No one cared that I had tried to catch the assassin. No one cared that I had chased them, no one even knew that I had been there. But everyone cared that Lucian Ashen was dead. Everyone cared that the Golden Heir of the most powerful family in the south had been murdered on the night of his Selection and eighteenth birthday party. The scandal destroyed us, our rivals circled like vultures. Especially my uncle. 

The one person in the Ashen family that rivaled my father and wouldn't hesitate to burn us all to the ground. Edgar Beaumont. My father's half-maternal brother. Lucian's death provided him with the perfect opportunity to set his own son as our family's savior. 

Unless...

My attention turned back to Lucian's face. 

"We do look alike in complexion, brother."

But in structure? In height and build?

My brother and I were born a year apart, but we had always been close in size. He was broader in the shoulders, yes, but not by much. Taller, but only by a few inches, we were both easily six foot one. And he had always been so arrogant about his appearance that he had never let his hair grow too long or his face remain unshaven. It was a clean-cut, perfect and easy to replicate.

"I'm officially insane..." I murmured to myself. 

But I had already died once tonight. What did I have to lose?

I grabbed Lucian's shoulders and pulled.

He was heavier than I expected—dead weight in the most literal sense. But adrenaline was a powerful thing, and fear was even stronger. I propped his body against the wall of his bedroom and got to work, quickly. 

My hands moved to my hair first.

It fell past my shoulders in dark chestnut waves. I had kept it long because I had had no reason to care what I looked like when no one looked at me anyway. Now I gathered it in one fist and reached for the scissors I found in the washroom cabinet. 

The first cut made a chunk of dark hair fell into the sink.

But Lucian wasn't a brunette, he was blonde. 

I immediately grabbed the dye and spray tan he usually kept around to beam his highlights. I sprayed, poured, and dried in until my brown tips turned greyish yellow.

"The sink..." I went to his bathroom and turned the tap on, washing the dye off my hands with a squirt of make-up removal.

"Next, the styling." 

Years of doing Lucian's hair for him had given me an edge. In no less than three minutes I had the perfect head of curls. Next came the binding. I found clean linen towels in the cabinet and began wrapping them around my chest until it was tight and firm. The fact that my boobs were only a handful helped.

I turned to Lucian and inhaled deeply before pulling off the sigil from his suit and pinning it on mine. 

This had to work. 

"I'm sorry, Lucian," I cleared my throat. "But you're dead, and I am going to use your death to finally be something other than invisible."

I was going to be you.

•••

“Where is the girl you sent to find him?” Mother was harshly whispering to a guard. The man scratched his neck looking around. 

“Maybe I should go and search for him, ma'am.”

I immediately stepped into the hall. 

“My apologies.” That sounded small and weird, “I cleared my throat and deepened my tone a little. My awaited entry made my father practically skip to my side. 

“Lucian!” He held my shoulders and started leading me up the podium. “Gosh where did you go? Head master Valdren just announced your selection.” 

I lowered my eyes. 

“Uh… troubled stomach. Must've been something I drank.” I walked stiffly to the podium as I was being led. Father stopped at the stairs smugly arranging his suit while I locked eyes with the headmaster. 

“Lucian Ashen.” 

He called my name with a questionable tilt, for a terrible moment I thought he had seen right through my facade. 

“Yes, Headmaster Valdren. I'm so sorry, I had a running stomach—” What was I doing? Lucian never rambled apologies. He rarely even gave them. I cleared my throat and looked up. “I’m here now. I take it, I've been selected?” 

The Headmaster held my gaze—long and hard. I nearly peed my pants from the intensity of his stare. I had to make a distracting joke, something Lucian would do. I instinctively grabbed the front of my trousers, the zip line to be specific and pretended to cup what should've been a cock instead of a vagina. 

“I drank too much liquid. I needed to take a long piss to give relief to my aching parts.” I fondled a little winking at the group of ladies that stood at the front. They blushed on cue, eyeing my bulge. Thankfully I had fitted enough rags to uphold a decent protrude.

Having a man-whore for a brother meant witnessing his walking around naked often, after dabbling in one sexual activity or the other. 

My mother giggled. 

“The Ashen men do not lack in more aspects than one.”

Ew, Mom. 

I turned to Headmaster Valdren, giving my most respectful bow. 

Lucian's most progressive skill. The ability to be condescending and still be respectful at the same time.

I stopped before Valdren and knelt. The Headmaster looked down at me for what felt like an eternity.

Then he spoke, lifting his hand to my shoulder. 

"Lucian Ashen. The Howling Spire Academy accepts you.”