Luciana takes a moment to collect herself, her hands clenching the silk sheets as the memories of her past life come rushing back. For a moment, she's almost overwhelmed by the vividness of it all. But then she takes a few breaths and pushes the memories aside.
She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and stands, smoothing down the skirts of her nightgown as she walks over to the floor-length mirror. She examines her reflection - the face of a 12-year-old girl staring back.
Luciana's fingers linger on the cold glass of the mirror, her purple eyes darkening with recognition.
Yes... Duke Crain's beloved daughter. The one who throws tantrums when Odette smiles at the crown prince. The one who schemes, flails, and ultimately gets cast out like spoiled perfume.
A humorless smile tugs at her lips. "Fated to be delusional," she murmurs, voice low and sharp as a pinprick. "How dreadfully cliché."
She turns from the mirror, her nightgown swirling like stormclouds in moonlight.
Luciana:"But this time... I won't play the fool."
Her fingers curl into determined fists.
Luciana watches as her nanny, Liana, walks in. The sight of the silvery-haired young woman, tired and weary, sparks a sharp pang of guilt and... something else. A pang of realization.
Yes, she remembers the way she'd been so cruel to poor Liana in the past, treating her like a piece of furniture - snapping orders and expecting flawless obedience. Something about witnessing the maid's weary expression triggers a shift. Luciana clears her throat, the sharp edges of her voice softened by an odd hint of warmth.
Luciana:"Morning, Liana."
Liana's surprise at Luciana's unusually civil greeting doesn't go unnoticed. The villainess keeps her face carefully neutral, hiding the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.
As Liana informs her that Odette's coming-of-age ceremony is coming, Luciana nods. "Right. Of course."
She moves with an almost obedient grace as Liana helps her into a gown that's no doubt been chosen to outshine the other noblewomen in the room. As the maid fusses with her skirts, Luciana's mind is already turning, calculating.