I stood with my forehead pressed against the cool door and tried to breathe deeper. Fear was suffocating me from the inside out.
"Calm down, you have to control everything" I whispered to myself.
I pushed away from the door and walked slowly through my chambers. They were as immaculate as my father's office. Dark wood, bookcases filled with various books, nothing superfluous.
I stopped at the large window overlooking the training grounds. Below, in the rays of the setting sun, several figures were practicing hitting dummies. Their movements were precise, deadly. My fingers curled into a fist by themselves, the muscles of my forearm tensed, obeying a familiar, alien impulse. This body craved action, it missed the blade.
I turned away from the window and walked over to the wall, where a long, narrow box lay on red velvet. Without hesitation, I opened it. Inside, a pitch-black dagger rested on black silk, the hilt was wrapped in dark leather, and the blade was minimalistic.
I picked it up, the weight was perfect, as if the dagger was an extension of my arm.
Clenching and unclenching my fingers on the hilt, I walked to the center of the room and began my workout.
At first, slowly, hesitantly, the simplest lunges and blocks. My muscles resisted my indecision, trying to speed up the pace, make the movement sharper, more deadly.
"No" I muttered, forcing my body to move more smoothly, as if performing a dance, "not like that, slower. She'll be afraid of being harsh"
I was thinking about the third princess. In the book, she first appeared at the academy ball, after the start of the semester. A quiet shadow in an overly voluptuous dress.
"Don't scare she" I repeated like a mantra, practicing a smooth, almost graceful turn ".… Courtesy? Elian's cold politeness, that will be enough"
But something inside, no longer the instinct of the body, but my own soul, stuck in this shell, screamed that this was not enough.
She's going to die.
She will die of an illness that no one will see because no one will look close enough.
The dagger in my hand suddenly made a sharp, sharp arc that I hadn't planned on. The blade whistled through the air and stopped a centimeter away from the imaginary target.
I lowered the weapon, trembling with tension. Controlling this body was like controlling a wild horse.
_______________________________
The next two days flew by in agonizing preparation. I spent hours in front of the mirror, trying to soften the icy expression on my face.
I forced myself to read different books. I did everything that could be a topic of conversation. I rehearsed phrases and dialogues, but every word I uttered sounded strange in the room.
I was dressed in a formal silver suit with fine embroidery of the coat of arms of Mellouer on the chest. Walking up to the mirror, I was greeted by the same soulless face.
Well... I guess there's no one more handsome than that bastard.
All the elements of the costume perfectly matched the white hair. Gray eyes complemented the already excessive charm.
"I think it's time to meet the princess"
Downstairs, in the main hall, a family was lined up. Count Duckville, impenetrable as ever. Countess Eleanor, anxiety flashed in her eyes, carefully hidden under a layer of a secular smile. Isabella stood next to the Countess, dressed in a turquoise dress.
I heard the clatter of hooves behind the heavy metal doors.
"Calm down, everything should go well" I reassured myself.
"Her Royal Highness, Princess Alicia von Trivein!" a palace servant shouted loudly.
The doors swung open, letting in a stream of watching morning sun, and she appeared against it.