Summoned To The Court

Seraphina sat up so fast her silver hair whipped her in the face. "Summoned? Like a court order? I thought I told you to say I had magical flu!"

The younger maid, Lily, winced. "We tried, my lady. But the Prince's letter was… quite firm. He wrote that 'Lady Seraphina's absence would be noted most unfavorably.'"

Seraphina groaned, dragging her hands down her perfect face. "Of course he did. Duke's daughter privileges. Can't even fake sick without it becoming a diplomatic incident."

She rolled off the bed with zero grace, landing in a heap of silk and lace. "Fine. Fine! We're doing this. But we're doing it my way. Low profile. Damage control mode activated."

The next hour was pure chaos.

Martha held up a deep crimson gown that screamed "seductress villainess." "The ruby one, my lady? You always say it makes the Prince unable to look away."

"Absolutely not," Seraphina said, waving it away like it was cursed. "That thing has 'main character interference' written all over it. Give me something boring. Beige. Beige is safe. Beige is what accountants wear to fade into spreadsheets."

The maids stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Beige, my lady?" Lily whispered. "We… don't own beige."

Seraphina pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course you don't. This world hates neutrals. Okay, fine. The least villainous thing we have. Pale blue? Soft pastels? Something that says 'I'm harmless, please don't execute me.'"

Martha pulled out a sky-blue gown with delicate silver embroidery. Still gorgeous, but at least it didn't scream 'I will step on you in heels.'

As they laced her up, Seraphina kept muttering under her breath.

"No flirting. No snide comments. If anyone brings up Lady Liliana, I will smile and say something nice. Like… 'She has great hair.' People like compliments about hair, right?"

Lily nearly stabbed her with a hairpin. "My lady, you once called Lady Liliana's hair 'peasant straw' in public."

Seraphina winced. "Past me was a walking HR violation. New me is… reformed. Zen. Buddha in a ballgown."

Martha tightened the corset a little too enthusiastically. "And the rumors about you poisoning her tea last month?"

"Exaggerated! Probably. I don't remember doing that. Wait,did original Seraphina actually try?"

The maids exchanged another worried look.

Seraphina slapped her cheeks lightly. "Focus. I got hit by a metaphysical truck yesterday. Today I'm surviving high society. Piece of cake. Or scone. Whatever they serve at evil royal teas."

She practiced in the mirror: big innocent eyes, soft smile. It came out looking like a beauty vlogger who just discovered filters. "Hi, I'm Seraphina, and I'm totally not plotting anything. Just here for the finger sandwiches."

Lily whispered, "My lady, you're scaring me."

"Good. I'm scaring myself too."

The carriage ride to the palace felt like being driven to her own execution. Seraphina kept fidgeting with her gloves, practicing apologies in her head.

Sorry for being a massive bitch.

Too modern.

Please forgive my past unbecoming conduct.

Too stiff.

My bad, girl. I was on one.

By the time they arrived at the royal gardens, her stomach was doing Olympic gymnastics.

The moment she stepped out of the carriage, the atmosphere shifted. Nobles in pastel gowns and tailored coats turned to look at her. Conversations died. Fans snapped open. Eyes narrowed in open disgust.

A duke's wife actually pulled her daughter behind her as if Seraphina might bite.

Oof. Okay. Reputation points... -1000.

She spotted the Crown Prince immediately.

Prince Ralph Valtor stood near a fountain, tall, golden-haired, and radiating main-character energy. He was everything the novel described,handsome in that "I could ruin your life but make it romantic" way.

But the second his eyes landed on her, his expression cooled into polite distance. He gave the smallest nod, then deliberately turned back to the person he was speaking with.

Distance maintained. Noted.

Seraphina's heart did a weird little flip. Not attraction,pure panic. In the novel, Seraphina had been obsessed with him. Love letters, staged "accidental" meetings, spreading rumors about any woman who got close. No wonder everyone looked ready to stone her.

They think I'm still that girl.

She squared her shoulders and walked forward, chin high but trying to look humble. Which, in this body, still came off annoyingly regal.

Then she saw her.

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