The Princess’s Pride

The unexpected cold is what woke Ariana.

Slowly, cracking her lids open, a cracked ceiling stared down at her. For a moment or two, she did nothing but blink repeatedly at the scene before her, as though trying to convince her sight that what it was seeing was not what it should see.

Nothing changed.

Ariana sat up, frowned. She was on the dusty floor of a small room, with one narrow window letting in strips of light - nothing like where she'd slept last night. She was on her feet in a blink. "What on earth am I wearing?" She looked down at the ragged dress, taking note of the unfamiliar calluses and scars that covered her hands. “No. No, no, no.”

There was a cracked mirror on the floor, and Ariana grabbed it. The face staring back at her wasn't hers.

Elena. That was the reflection of the stranger staring back at her.

"No, this can't be. Please tell me I'm dreaming." She lifted one hand shakily. The reflection copied her. She touched her cheek. The same was done to her.

"No!" Ariana stumbled back, eyes wide. "I refuse to accept this!" She turned and yanked the door open. The corridor beyond looked unfamiliar. She had no idea where she was.

For the first time since her father died, Ariana burst into tears.

"Elena!"

Ariana jolted as though she'd been hit. Wet eyes locked onto a young maid hurrying down the corridor, a stack of folded linens balanced against her hip.

"What are you doing- wait, w-why are you crying?" The girl's voice started irritated, but softened with concern as she took in the tears dribbling down Ariana's cheeks. She came closer. "Did something happen? Are you hurt, Elena?"

Ariana wiped the moisture away, ashamed to be seen like this. She forced her face into her haughtiest mask. "And who are you to ask me that?"

The maid frowned. "What?"

"Why do you keep calling me Elena?"

The girl blinked. "Because that's your name?"

"No, it isn't." Ariana sneered. "I’m Queen Ariana Ophelia."I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," the maid said. "Anyway, you're late to wash the bedsheets."

Ariana glared. "I am the Queen. How dare you think I'm a servant?"

The girl huffed, openly disdainful as her eyes swept over Ariana. "I don't have time for your theatrics this morning. I have work to do, and if you don't want severe flogging, I advise you get right to yours." She brushed past.

"Hey, get back here!" Ariana called, but was already running. "I order you to escort me to my chambers immediately!"

"Whatever deluded fantasy you're trapped in," the maid called over her shoulder, "I want no part of it." She disappeared down a bend.

Frustrated, Ariana stomped her bare feet and stormed off in the direction from which the girl had come. The passage opened out into a grand gallery she hadn't known in her life. All carved arches and tall windows spilling morning light, and the enormous portrait of King Myde on horseback.

Her palace.

But it felt unnervingly alien. Servants- who looked unfamiliar- stepped aside for her. Whispers followed her like smoke.

"Is that Elena?"

"What is she doing here looking so unkempt?"

Ariana ignored them. Maybe this was some elaborate deception. Maybe she'd been bewitched. Fine. She would find Lucien; he would understand.

She reached the grand doors leading to the imperial wing, where the royal family and distinguished guests resided. Two guards were stationed where she tried to cross the threshold, a heavy spear coming in her path.

“Who do you seek, girl?”

Ariana bristled. "I am Queen Ariana. How dare you block my path?"

The guards' cutting glares made her pause. "Are you mad?" The older one barked. "How dare a lowly servant claim to be Her Imperial Highness?"

She flinched, then recovered. With false confidence she sneered, "And how dare a low-level guard, unfit to carry my parasol, speak to me like that? Do you wish to forfeit your life?"

His gaze turned murderous. "You bitch-" He raised a calloused hand to strike her.

She went still, her stomach churning. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

"Stop."

A sickeningly familiar voice floated out from the imperial wing. Ariana went pale.

No, it can't be...

A slender, dark-haired woman glided toward them. As the figure approached, Ariana's chest tightened in disbelief.

She wore royal blue and a glittering ruby crown. But the face stopped her cold. Her face. The same scar by the left eyebrow. Everything.

How is this possible?!

"Your Highness." The two guards bowed low in unison.

The title struck Ariana as hard as the sight of her own face. She couldn't move. She couldn't blink. She wasn't even sure she was breathing.

The princess looked her up and down, slow and deliberate, like a struggling beetle would be crushed underfoot. Her painted lips twitched in a mocking curve. "So, you're claiming to be me?"