⸻
That night, as the soft glow of candlelight filled the newly furnished bedroom, Anna sat by the edge of the velvet-draped bed, her mind still buzzing.
She needed more information — carefully.
"Grace," she said softly, as the maid folded fresh linens into a chest. "Can I ask you something?"
Grace turned to her with a warm smile. "Of course, Milady."
"I… I think I hit my head that night," Anna began, choosing her words with care. "Some memories are fuzzy. I remember some stuff but not everything. Like what's been happening lately. In Esporia. And with… my family."
Grace paused, eyes full of sympathy. "You poor thing… well, there's been talk all over the city, mostly about Duke Blackmoor. He just won his fifth battle, can you believe it? People say he's unstoppable. The King is planning a celebration at the palace — it's all anyone talks about in the market."
Anna kept her expression neutral, but her heart quickened. So that's who she was being married to — a war hero—a dangerous one.
"And my family?" she prompted gently.
Grace lowered her voice. "You're still recovering, but… truthfully, things haven't been easy for you. You're the only child of the First Lady Harrowind — a noblewoman everyone adored. After she passed, the Viscount married her sister… and well, Lady Geneva and Lady Celina haven't always been… kind."
Anna nodded faintly. "I see."
After a bit more polite conversation, she dismissed Grace with a smile. "Thank you. You've been very helpful."
Grace curtsied and left the room, leaving Anna alone with her thoughts.
She changed into her nightgown, blew out the candle, and lay down.
But sleep didn't come easily.
That night, Anna dreamed again — only this time, it was worse.
She was standing in a dark corridor, the air thick with shadows. A cold wind blew from behind, and when she turned, a figure in black was waiting. Silent. Tall. His face was hidden beneath a hood.
He didn't speak. He only pointed.
And suddenly, she was being dragged by an unseen force, her feet scraping across cold stone.
She screamed. Fought. And then—
Pain.
The dagger went straight through her chest.
Her scream echoed, and just before she could see his face—everything turned black.
⸻
Morning came.
Sunlight spilled through tall windows, and Anna jolted awake, breath short and skin clammy with sweat.
Grace was already bustling in with a tray of tea and warm rolls.
"Milady? Did you have a nightmare?" she asked gently, placing the tray down and helping fluff her pillows.
Anna swallowed. "Just… a strange dream."
She shook it off and let Grace tend to her.
A knock came, to inform Amelia that the etiquette teacher had arrived
The floor had been cleared, and soft string music played from a corner ensemble as Madame Eloise, the famed etiquette instructor, stood poised in the center of the room.
Lady Geneva and Celina watched from a nearby settee, Geneva sipping tea while Celina's sharp eyes barely left Amelia.
Anna stood before the instructor, dressed in a simple but elegant practice gown, her hair pinned neatly.
"Today," Madame Eloise announced, "we will begin with the court waltz — the one you'll need to know for your engagement ball. Lady Celina, you may remain and observe."
Celina smiled sweetly. "I wouldn't miss it."
As the instructor demonstrated the steps, Anna mimicked them with calm focus. It wasn't perfect at first, but her movements picked up swiftly — too swiftly.
Madame Eloise's brow lifted. "You catch on quickly, my lady."
Celina scowled, muttering under her breath, That's impossible. She could barely manage a curtsy last month.
Unable to hold back, Celina spoke aloud, smiling as she said, "Forgive me, Madame, but my dear sister has never been good at these things. She's not… coordinated."
Anna smirked inwardly.
"Oh?" Madame Eloise glanced at Amelia. "You seem very capable to me, my lady. In fact—" she gestured to her assistant, a young man standing nearby. "Come, let's see you complete a full sequence."
Anna turned to face him, lowering into a graceful starting position.
As the music began, she moved with practiced precision. Every step, every turn, was smooth — refined. Not perfect in the way of a noble-born lady, but natural, fluid, and strangely captivating. It wasn't courtly stiff… it was alive.
Even Grace, standing by with a tray, gaped in awe.
Thank God, Anna thought to herself, I picked up ballroom back at that awful club for those vintage-themed nights. If not, that brat would've had my head.
As the final note of the waltz faded, the room was silent.
Then Madame Eloise clapped, beaming. "Marvelous, Lady Amelia! Far better than I expected. You have a natural grace."
Anna turned, giving Celina a sickly sweet smile. "I suppose I should thank Celina. If not for her constant encouragement, I might never have improved."
The words were polite, but the look between them told another story.
Celina clenched her jaw, forcing a brittle smile.
Stupid brat, Anna thought coolly, keep watching. This is only the beginning.
After the dance lesson, Anna returned to her room. Grace helped her out of the practice gown and into a more comfortable dress. The soft afternoon light drifted in, but the tension hadn't left the air since morning.
Just as Grace stepped out to fetch fresh towels, the door creaked open.
A maid Anna didn't recognize well, a sharp-faced girl with too much attitude for her station, stepped in carrying a small porcelain cup on a silver tray.
"Time for your tonic, Milady," the girl said, her tone curt and unbothered.
Anna raised a brow, eyeing the drink. The faint, bitter scent rising from it set her on edge.
She kept her expression neutral. "What is this for?"
The maid rolled her eyes as if the question was foolish. "For your frailty, Milady. You've always taken it after lessons. The lady of the house insists. It'll help you rest."
Anna's eyes narrowed.
So this is how they've been doing it. Slowly poisoning her under the guise of medicine. She noted the girl's insolent posture — too bold for a mere maid, clearly one of Celina or Geneva's informants.
She rose slowly from her chair, stepping closer until she was barely a foot away. Her voice dropped low, sharp as a knife's edge.
"I suggest you listen carefully, because your life now depends on it."
The maid stiffened.
"I'm about to be the Duchess of Blackmoor. And I know what's in that cup. If you ever bring something like this to me again, I'll personally see to it that your entire family vanishes from this estate… one by one."
The maid's face drained of color, her hand trembling slightly.
"From this moment on," Anna continued coldly, "you will do as I say. Not as Lady Geneva says. Not as Celina says. Me. Is that clear?"
The maid swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. "Y-Yes, Milady."
Anna smiled, sharp and satisfied. "Good. Now get out."
The girl fled, leaving the drink untouched on the tray.
Not long after, there was a polite knock at the door.
Grace returned, her face bright. "Milady, the court designer has arrived. She's brought several fabrics and sketches for your selection."
Anna smirked. Perfect timing.
"Let's go"
A pair of seamstresses entered, carrying bundles of silk, velvet, and lace. The court designer, a thin, refined woman with keen eyes, curtsied.
"Lady Amelia," she greeted smoothly. "The Viscount instructed us to prepare suitable gowns for your upcoming appearance before His Grace, the Duke of Blackmoor. I've brought several designs for your approval and we'll need your measurements."
Anna glanced over the luxurious fabrics — so different from the plain clothes she'd seen in Amelia's wardrobe before.
"Excellent," she said, slipping easily into her new role. "I'll choose what I like. No one else's opinion matters."
The designer blinked, taken aback for a moment by the sudden confidence — then nodded.
"As you wish, Milady."
Anna thought, Let's see how Celina likes it when I walk into that engagement party dressed to outshine her and everyone else in this rotten house.