My younger siblings were always loud, and I’d learned to sleep through just about anything. But when several unfamiliar voices erupted above me, sleep vanished in an instant.
“Good heavens, what is that smell?” a shocked exclamation came from nearby.
“Milady, please, you must wake up,” a second voice urged, accompanied by a gentle touch on my arm.
Who? Milady?
I opened my eyes and stared in alarm at two older women dressed in strange outfits. Dark brown dresses with long sleeves, pristine white aprons, and lace-trimmed bonnets.
“Who are you?” I gasped, stunned. A chill ran down my spine as I scrambled back to the headboard of the bed… a massive king-sized bed with a heavy burgundy canopy.
There’s no way something this big could fit in my tiny studio apartment unless it came through the window.
“Milady?” one of the women clutched her chest, staring at me as if she’d seen a ghost.
“It’s a miracle!” the other cried, pressing her hands to her mouth. “Milady has recovered from her illness! She’s recovered! Praise the heavens!”
I froze, blinking hard to dispel this crazy scene. But the dream refused to fade. Desperately, I pinched my side, hoping to wake up as fast as possible.
That trick never worked—not even during nightmares. Sure, I knew I was dreaming. I understood it wasn’t real when I felt no pain, but I still couldn’t pretend otherwise.
This time, though, the pinch brought tears to my eyes.
So… this isn’t a dream?
I touched my clothing again and timidly looked down.
No sign of my bright green plush pajamas. Instead, I wore a silk nightgown with long sleeves and delicate embroidery along the edges.
What the heck is going on?!
“Quick! Go! Tell everyone! And fetch the doctor!” one of the women ordered the other, now pressing her hands to her chest. “Let the trumpets sound that milady has recovered! Let everyone know!”
The second woman cast me another glance, hiked up her skirt, and dashed off.
I watched her go, taking in the details of the room at the same time. A huge room, furnished with intricately carved pieces.
A wide, three-paneled white screen, behind which I could glimpse the side of a copper bathtub. A long sofa with a square tea table, an enormous five-door wardrobe, a vanity with a mirror, and a padded stool upholstered in burgundy fabric… All the furniture made of some odd light wood with a pinkish hue.
“Where am I?” I exhaled, barely recognizing my own voice.
It sounded too high-pitched to me.
“Milady, you’re home,” the remaining woman said gently, as if speaking to a child. Her large gray eyes held both shock and awe. “Don’t you recognize me?”
Should I?
I slowly shook my head, still pressing my back against the headboard.
“Your Highness, a miracle has happened today,” the stranger said cautiously.
What did she just call me? Your Highness?!
“A miracle?” I echoed nervously.
“Yes,” her face brightened, and she smiled. “Your dreadful illness has finally retreated. It can only be that the gods have shown mercy and heard our prayers. You’re no longer bedridden. Isn’t that a miracle?”
Swallowing hard, I tried to process everything that had happened in the last few seconds. Tried to make sense of it and find a logical explanation.
But I couldn’t.
“What’s your name?” I asked, grasping at the only thing that seemed important right now.
“My name is Pifal, milady,” she said, bowing her head. Her bonnet slipped slightly from her soft gray hair, tied into a tight bun. “I came here with you. Don’t you remember? I’m your lady’s maid.”
Came where? And what’s a lady’s maid?
“I don’t understand anything,” I admitted honestly, feeling tears well up in my eyes. A little more, and I’d break down completely.
“That’s alright,” she smiled reassuringly. What did she call herself? Pifal? Such an odd, almost inhuman name. “You’ve been ill for many years. Bedridden. Don’t worry, milady, your memory will return soon. And if it doesn’t, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
She spoke so convincingly that I soon found myself nodding along to her words.
“Let me help you get up,” she insisted, stepping closer to the bed and offering her hand.
I stared at her weathered, work-roughened palm for several long seconds. Then I grabbed it like a lifeline.
I wanted to trust her. And more than anything, I wanted to wake up.
This dream was too vivid. Too real.
“Careful, it’s a bit high,” Pifal warned, sliding a stool under my feet.
The bed was indeed enormous. It came up to my waist as I stood barefoot on a soft white rug.
“There we go,” she said tenderly, “now, even more carefully. Step down.”
I swayed immediately. If not for her sturdy shoulder, I would’ve fallen. Instead, I stayed upright, clinging to her arm in panic. She towered over me by a full head.
“It’s alright,” she assured me. “You’re still very weak, milady. But your strength will return. If the gods have healed you, it will. Oh! What a blessing this is!”
I managed a weary smile, fully aware that I understood nothing. My legs felt like jelly, my head heavy.
“Ready? You need to freshen up,” Pifal coaxed. “What’s the point of lying in bed when you can walk now?”
When I can walk? Was I not able to before? She said I was bedridden. Paralyzed, maybe? Me?
“Let’s give it a try,” Pifal encouraged, helping me take the next step.
This one felt steadier, stronger than the last, though my legs still trembled traitorously.
“Good,” her delighted smile spurred me on. “Milady, you’re doing wonderfully. I’ve always said you’re a warrior at heart. That you’d overcome this illness.”
She chattered on as I took step after step. That is, until we reached the vanity mirror. The moment I glanced sideways, my legs buckled again. Not from weakness this time, but from sheer horror.
Because in the reflection, standing beside the tall Pifal, was a delicate stranger in a silk nightgown. Pale blonde curls, a fair oval face, and wide blue eyes filled with unmistakable fear.
Shuddering, I raised my hand… and the reflection raised its hand too.
No! This can’t be happening! It just can’t!
“Milady, are you alright?” Pifal asked, noticing my hesitation.
“Who is that?” I whispered, losing all grip on reality as I pointed at the mirror.
“That’s you, Your Highness,” she replied in that same soothing tone. “Everything’s fine, milady. Shall we continue?”
“Milady.” “Your Highness.”
My brain seemed to reject everything happening around me. I was in a daze the entire way to the screen.
Pifal sat me down on a low chair with a comfortable backrest, as if I were a doll, and turned on the water in the tub. A shiny faucet, protruding from some massive canister shaped like a fire hydrant, released a stream of water.
She adjusted the flow with a large valve and placed a small basin underneath. After filling it, she turned off the water with a practiced motion and returned to a table laden with various bottles and boxes.
“There we are,” she continued to soothe me, pouring something that smelled of orchids and citrus into the water. She dipped a sponge in it and brushed the hair from my face. “May I?”
“I… sure?”
She nodded and gently wiped my cheek. My cheek… I could feel the warmth of the water and the softness of the sponge perfectly. Yet the mirror had made it clear—I wasn’t myself anymore.
How is this even possible? If this isn’t a dream, then what is it?
“Pifal,” I said as she stopped washing me and reached for a small white towel embroidered with gold thread. “Who am I?”
That question felt like the most important one right now. I knew my name was Alina. I was twenty-three, a student at a university in the capital, majoring in management and human resources.
If this stranger told me something different, I’d lose my mind for sure.
“Lady Adele,” Pifal said with sympathy in her voice, “don’t worry so much. Your memory will come back. Surely you remember that you’re the second princess of our wonderful kingdom of Flemur?”
I took a shaky breath.
“Your father even renamed the country after your family line,” she added in a tone that suggested it was both wild and deeply significant.
“Milady?” The door to the room burst open with a bang. From behind the screen, I couldn’t see who entered, though judging by the stomping of feet, it sounded like a whole tour group had arrived. Well, why not? Seems like plenty of people wanted to gawk at some princess they thought I was.
Except I’m not her.
“Merciful gods! Where is milady?”
“She’s here,” Pifal peeked out from behind the screen. “This way, doctor, please.”
“Oh!” A tall, gray-haired man with half-moon glasses appeared before me in an instant. “Why on earth did you let her get up?! I needed to examine milady first!”
“I’m sorry,” Pifal lowered her gaze. “I helped milady wash with an indovir solution.”
“That’s always beneficial,” the man replied more softly, stepping toward me. “Milady, I need to examine you.”
“I feel fine,” I tried to brush off this new stranger.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said with a slight bow. “I’m the court physician to Lord Etienne. My name is Lih. I’ve been overseeing your treatment during your time in the duchy. I’d like to believe my methods have helped you.”
“And what did you give me?” I asked, stalling for time as I slowly began to grasp that this was all really happening.
I’m not myself anymore. I have a different body, a different voice. And this body belongs to a princess. A princess! Like in fairy tales! God, I’m losing it.
“Indovir, in large doses,” the doctor replied. “I suspected your illness was of a magical nature, so it required a special approach to treatment.”
Wait! A magical illness?
Princess, different body, kingdom, magic… If I’m not already in a psych ward after a breakdown over some failed exam I can’t remember, then things aren’t just bad—they’re downright catastrophic.
“Can I be alone for a bit?” I asked quietly but firmly, not addressing anyone in particular.
“Milady, I must insist on the examination,” Doctor Lih replied with compassion. “I need to prepare a report for…”
“Please,” I pleaded, looking up at him. “Just give me a little time. We can do the examination after.”
“Of course,” he said, bowing again. Just bowing!
And he stepped behind the screen.
I waited until I heard the door creak again. Judging by the noise on the other side, the crowd that had followed the doctor reluctantly left with him.
“Milady, should I go as well?” Pifal still stood nearby.
I just nodded, staring at my hands… my hands? Delicate, slender fingers, thin wrists, neat pink nails.
The woman left as quietly as she’d come, leaving me sitting on the chair by the copper-colored tub. I exhaled several times, trying to steady myself and make sense of what was happening. I stood, swayed, and nearly knocked over the screen.
Good thing its frame was sturdy; it held up.
Limping over to the vanity, I collapsed onto the stool and looked into the mirror.
The same unfamiliar face stared back at me. Not as pale as the first time, but still foreign.
Fair skin, small cheeks, a straight nose, and a tiny mole above the upper lip on the right side. I slowly raised a hand, adjusting my hair, mesmerized as the reflection mirrored the gesture. I ran my fingers along my neck, frowned, then smiled, tracking every change in the mirror.
“This is me now,” I whispered to my reflection. “But how can this be?”
Sadly, there was no one to answer that question.