_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">Eleanora spent the next two days in her chambers, pleading weakness to avoid visitors. It wasn't entirely a lie—her body ached from the fall, and her head still throbbed with intermittent pain. But the physical discomfort paled in comparison to the mental turmoil of reconciling her two sets of memories.

  On the third morning after her awakening, she finally felt steady enough to face more than just her parents and servants. Meredith had just finished arranging her hair in a simple style when a knock came at the door.

  "Enter," Eleanora called, expecting her mother with another list of concerned questions and social reminders.

  Instead, Lady Henrietta Bckwood, her younger sister by two years, burst into the room with all the force of a small hurricane.

  "Finally!" Henrietta excimed, rushing to Eleanora's side. "Mother and Father have been treating your chambers like a shrine. I was beginning to think they'd never let anyone see you."

  Eleanora blinked, momentarily startled by her sister's vibrant presence. In her memories as Sarah, she'd been an only child. The concept of having a sister still felt novel, even after eighteen years as Eleanora.

  "Henrietta," she said, managing a small smile. "It's good to see you."

  Her sister narrowed her eyes, studying Eleanora's face. At sixteen, Henrietta shared the same dark hair and fine features as Eleanora, though her eyes were a deeper blue than Eleanora's hazel.

  "You look different," Henrietta decred, plopping herself unceremoniously on the edge of Eleanora's bed. "And you sound different too. Are you sure you didn't crack your skull in that fall?"

  Eleanora ughed despite herself. "My skull is intact, thank you very much. I'm just... recovering."

  Henrietta's skeptical expression remained. "Well, recover faster. The entire pace is buzzing about your accident. Lady Carlisle is practically gloating, suggesting that perhaps you lost your bance because you were 'overwhelmed by your good fortune' in securing an engagement to Prince Aldric."

  A flush of shame crept up Eleanora's neck. She remembered Lady Carlisle—one of her chief rivals for the prince's hand, and someone she had humiliated publicly on more than one occasion.

  "Is that so?" she murmured, adjusting the sleeve of her dressing gown to avoid her sister's gaze.

  "Indeed. Though her tune changed rather quickly when Prince Aldric sent those flowers." Henrietta gestured to an eborate arrangement of white and gold blooms on the side table that Eleanora had assumed came from her parents. "The prince may be cold as ice, but he knows his duty. Father was pleased."

  Eleanora gnced at the flowers with newfound interest. A dutiful gesture from her reluctant fiancé. She wondered if he had selected them himself or simply ordered a servant to send something appropriate. The tter, most likely.

  "Has the prince visited?" she asked cautiously.

  Henrietta snorted. "Hardly. He sent his aide with the flowers and formal inquiries about your health. Very proper, very distant. Exactly what one would expect from our future emperor." She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Though I must say, I'm surprised you're not more excited about having snared the most eligible bachelor in the Empire. Before your fall, you spoke of little else."

  Eleanora winced internally. Had she really been so shallow? Of course she had. The memories were there—her endless scheming, her obsession with becoming Crown Princess, her casual dismissal of the prince's obvious disinterest as something she could overcome through persistence and her family's influence.

  "The accident has given me perspective," she said carefully.

  Henrietta ughed. "What, did you see the gods while you were unconscious? Come now, Ellie. You've wanted this engagement since we were children. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now that you've won."

  "Not second thoughts," Eleanora replied, searching for words that wouldn't sound completely alien coming from her lips. "Just... I want to approach things differently."

  Her sister's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Differently how? You've already secured the engagement. What more is there to do but pn the wedding and prepare to be empress?"

  Eleanora rose from her dressing table, moving to the window that overlooked the Bckwood estate's manicured gardens. In the distance, the imperial pace gleamed white against the horizon, its towers seeming to pierce the sky itself.

  "I want to know him," she said softly. "Not just his title or his position, but him. Prince Aldric, the person."

  Silence fell behind her. When she turned, Henrietta was staring at her with undisguised astonishment.

  "You're jesting," her sister said ftly.

  "I'm not."

  "But you've never cared about that before. You said—and I quote—'His personal qualities are irrelevant. What matters is that he will be emperor, and I will be empress.'"

  Another wave of shame washed over Eleanora. Those sounded exactly like words she would have spoken before her memories returned. Cold, calcuted, ambitious to a fault.

  "Perhaps the fall knocked some sense into me," she said, attempting lightness.

  Henrietta still looked skeptical but shrugged. "Well, good luck with that. From what I've observed, His Imperial Highness is about as accessible as the ancient temples. No one really knows him, and he seems to prefer it that way."

  "All the more reason to try," Eleanora replied, with more determination than she felt.

  Her sister sighed dramatically. "If you insist. Though I must say, I preferred when your ambitions were straightforward. This new philosophical Eleanora is rather disconcerting."

  Before Eleanora could respond, another knock came at the door.

  "Lady Eleanora," called a servant's voice. "The Duchess requests your presence in the morning room. The royal physician has arrived for your examination."

  "You'd better go," Henrietta said, standing. "Mother's been in a state ever since your accident. Between your fall and the upcoming Imperial Autumn Festival, I'm surprised she hasn't colpsed from anxiety herself."

  The Imperial Autumn Festival. Eleanora searched her memories and found it immediately—the most significant social event of the season, where the imperial family hosted the nobility for three days of eborate celebrations. Where she had pnned to make her first public appearance as Prince Aldric's fiancée.

  "When is the festival?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

  "Ten days from now," Henrietta replied, confirming Eleanora's recollection. "And before you ask, yes, we are all still expected to attend. Father says your injury makes your presence even more important—to show the court that the Bckwood family remains strong and the engagement secure."

  Of course that would be her father's concern. Not her health, but the appearance of strength and the stability of the advantageous match she'd secured.

  "I see," Eleanora said, reaching for the bell to summon Meredith to help her dress. "Then I suppose I had better recover quickly."

  Henrietta moved to the door, then paused. "Ellie," she said, using the childhood nickname that had fallen out of favor as they grew older and Eleanora became more concerned with formality, "are you truly all right? You seem... different."

  For a moment, Eleanora considered telling her sister everything—about Sarah, about her past life, about the strange dual consciousness she now carried. But the words stuck in her throat. How could she expin something she herself was still struggling to understand?

  "I'm still me," she said instead, which wasn't entirely a lie. "Just a version of me that's had a rather startling reminder of my own mortality."

  Henrietta seemed to accept this expnation, nodding slowly. "Well, try not to become too philosophical. You've worked too hard for this engagement to jeopardize it by suddenly developing an inconvenient personality."

  With that parting shot, delivered with typical Henrietta bluntness, her sister swept out of the room, leaving Eleanora to prepare for the physician's examination and her first real test—convincing the royal doctor that she was physically recovered, while hiding the fact that her mind had been fundamentally altered.

  The royal physician, Dr. Thaddeus Mercer, was a thin, elderly man with surprisingly nimble fingers and sharp, observant eyes. He had been serving the imperial family for over forty years, which meant his opinion carried significant weight. If he decred Eleanora unfit to resume her duties—including her role as the prince's fiancée—there would be little her family could do to dispute it.

  "Follow my finger with your eyes, please, Lady Eleanora," he instructed, moving his index finger slowly from left to right before her face.

  Eleanora complied, seated stiffly in a chair in the Bckwood morning room while her mother hovered anxiously nearby and her father pretended to read dispatches at a desk by the window.

  "Any headaches?" Dr. Mercer asked.

  "Some," she admitted. "But they're becoming less frequent."

  "Dizziness? Nausea? Confusion?"

  She hesitated on the st one. "Some initial confusion when I first woke, but it's clearing now."

  Dr. Mercer nodded, making a note in a small ledger. "That's to be expected with a head injury of this nature. And your memory? Any gaps or uncertainties about events before the fall?"

  If only he knew. She had more memories now, not fewer, though none that she could share.

  "My memory seems intact," she said carefully.

  "Good, good." He pressed his fingers gently along her skull, pausing at the tender spot where her head had struck the marble stairs. "The swelling has gone down considerably. Tell me, Lady Eleanora, do you remember the fall itself? What caused it?"

  Eleanora frowned, genuinely trying to recall the moments before her accident. "I remember leaving the banquet. I was on the grand staircase, and then... nothing until I woke here."

  "Did you feel faint beforehand? Any dizziness or light-headedness?"

  She searched her memories but found nothing. "Not that I recall."

  Dr. Mercer hummed thoughtfully. "Curious. There were no witnesses to the actual fall, only to its aftermath. A servant found you at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious. You're fortunate that your injuries weren't more severe. A fall down marble stairs could easily have been fatal."

  "Indeed," the Duke interjected from his position by the window. "Most fortunate. Now, Dr. Mercer, the question that concerns us most—is my daughter fit to resume her social obligations? The Imperial Autumn Festival approaches, and as the prince's fiancée, her presence is expected."

  Dr. Mercer stroked his short white beard. "I would advise a gradual return to activities, Your Grace. Lady Eleanora has suffered a significant trauma."

  "But she will be recovered enough for the festival?" the Duchess pressed, wringing her hands in her p.

  The physician gnced at Eleanora, studying her with those penetrating eyes. She met his gaze steadily, knowing that much depended on his assessment.

  "I believe," he said slowly, "that with proper rest and care over the next ten days, Lady Eleanora should be able to attend the festival. However," he added firmly, as the Duke and Duchess exchanged relieved looks, "I must insist that she not overtax herself. Limited hours, no excessive dancing or excitement, and she must withdraw if she experiences any headaches or dizziness."

  "Of course," the Duchess agreed quickly. "We'll ensure she follows your instructions precisely."

  Dr. Mercer turned back to Eleanora. "I'll also prescribe a tonic to help with any lingering headaches. And I'd like to see you again in five days to assess your progress."

  "Thank you, Doctor," Eleanora said sincerely, relieved that she had passed this first hurdle.

  As her father escorted the physician out, her mother moved to sit beside her on the settee.

  "This is excellent news," the Duchess said, patting Eleanora's hand. "We were so concerned that you might not be well enough for the festival. It would have been most unfortunate, especially given the timing."

  Eleanora turned to her mother. "The timing?"

  "Yes, dear. The festival is when His Imperial Majesty pnned to formally acknowledge your engagement to Prince Aldric before the entire court. It's to be announced at the final banquet."

  A chill ran through Eleanora. The formal announcement would make the engagement official and binding. After that, breaking it would be not merely an insult but a breach of imperial protocol—essentially treason.

  "I... I didn't realize the announcement would be so soon," she said, though her memories confirmed that she had known this before the fall. Indeed, she had been ecstatic about it.

  "Soon?" Her mother looked confused. "Darling, you were counting the days. You've spoken of nothing else for weeks."

  Before her accident, that would have been true. The Eleanora who had schemed her way into this engagement would have been triumphant, eager to see her victory publicly acknowledged.

  "Of course," she said quickly. "I'm still a bit disoriented from the fall."

  Her mother squeezed her hand. "Well, we have much to do to prepare. Your father has already commissioned a new gown for the announcement banquet—gold silk with pearl embroidery, to complement the imperial colors. And we must review the proper protocols for your formal presentation to the court as the prince's intended."

  As the Duchess continued outlining pns and preparations, Eleanora's mind raced. Ten days until she would have to face not only Prince Aldric but the entire imperial court. Ten days to learn how to be this new version of herself—still Eleanora in name and body, but with Sarah's memories and values influencing her every thought and reaction.

  Ten days to figure out how to face a fiancé she had maniputed into an engagement but now viewed with newfound empathy and guilt.

  "Mother," she interrupted gently, "I think I would like to send a note to Prince Aldric. To thank him for the flowers and express my hope to see him before the festival."

  The Duchess blinked in surprise. "That would be appropriate, yes. Though I wouldn't expect a personal response. The prince is notoriously private and keeps his own counsel."

  "All the same, I'd like to try," Eleanora insisted.

  Her mother nodded. "Very well. I'll have stationery brought to your room. But remember, Eleanora—the prince agreed to this match for political reasons. Your father's influence, our family's position... these are what secured his cooperation. Don't expect sudden warmth or sentiment."

  The blunt assessment stung, even though Eleanora knew it to be true. She had never deluded herself about the nature of the engagement, even before her accident. Prince Aldric had accepted her as his future wife because it was expedient, not because he felt any affection for her.

  "I understand," she said quietly.

  And she did—more clearly now than ever before. But understanding didn't make it any easier to face the man whose life she had effectively cimed through political maneuvering, especially now that she saw the moral complexity of what she had done.

  As her mother left to arrange for the stationery, Eleanora moved to the window, gazing at the distant pace. Somewhere in that vast structure was Prince Aldric—cold, reserved, and, if the rumors were true, deeply unhappy. A man who had spent his life being punished for his mother's death in childbirth, who had been forced into an engagement with a woman he barely knew and certainly didn't love.

  A man she now had to face with the weight of two lifetimes of perspective.

  "What would you do, Sarah?" she whispered to herself, drawing on her past life's wisdom. But Sarah had never navigated imperial politics or an arranged marriage. Those challenges were uniquely Eleanora's to face.

  One thing was certain—she could not continue as she had been before, viewing the prince as a prize to be won and dispyed. If she was to move forward in this life with any kind of integrity, she would need to see Aldric as a person, not a position.

  The question was whether he would ever see her as anything more than the ambitious nobleman's daughter who had lobbied her way into his life.