The pain was fading, little by little. Warmth seeped into her right side, soft and soothing, wrapping her in something that felt almost like thick blankets on a very cold winter day. For a moment she thought it might be a dream. Something gentle. Something kind.

She wanted to sink into it, but the memory of why she was hurting kept tugging at her.

Her eyelids felt heavy, as if weighed down by stone. Sounds came before sight. The murmur of voices. Someone close.

“–gone too far, Your Highness?”

Lucien’s voice. Concerned, slightly angry, almost trembling from the emotions he tried to hide.

A scoff followed, sharp and cold. “I’ve done no such thing. I even held back enough to ensure she wouldn’t be badly injured. If anything, you should be scolding your fiancée for not knowing when to yield.”

Cassian.

Her chest tightened. The warmth on her right side, that had to be him. It was where his voice came from.

Her eyes fluttered open. Light blurred her vision, but slowly the world began to take shape.

Snow. The dull gray sky. A faint golden glow pulsing above her, flowing from Cassian’s left hand.

“Good,” he said. “She’s awake.”

Lucien was behind her, holding her up so her upper body didn’t touch the snow. His grip was steady but gentle, as if afraid she might break. Cassian stood over her, the picture of control. Even when healing her, his expression was stone cold. It was as if he was healing only out of responsibility or duty, not out of the kindness of his heart.

“That should do it.”

The glow vanished. He looked down at her once, unreadable, then turned toward her parents.

Relief flickered in their eyes. It stung. She felt guilty for worrying them.

Isolde’s hands flew to her mouth, trembling. Edmund’s shoulders sagged. Then, before Seraphine could fully process it, both went down on their knees in the snow.

“Thank you for healing her, Your Highness,” Edmund said, his head low and his eyes closed out of shame. “We are deeply grateful for your kindness.”

“We apologize for any offense our daughter caused you,” Isolde added, voice trembling with regret and disappointment. “Please forgive her foolishness.”

Cassian’s expression softened for only a breath. “Lady Isolde, Lord Edmund. There is no need to abase yourselves. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

He stepped closer, extending for each of them a gloved hand to help them up. His voice stayed calm, yet it carried command.

“This was her choice. Let her bear the consequences. She is no child. Do not spoil her further.”

The words struck harder than his blade.

The warmth that had briefly softened his crimson eyes vanished in an instant. When they turned back to her, only frost remained. And Seraphine understood exactly what he wanted.

Apologize.

Shame crawled beneath her skin. Being struck down over and over again, and then healed by the same man who caused her that pain. That was humiliation enough for her to hide in the shadows for decades. However, watching as her parents knelt for her mistakes only made her realize the shame she brought was not only to herself, but also to the du Fane family.

–They didn’t deserve this.

She bit her lip.

This was her fault. All of it.

Cassian was right.

His last words before she blacked out echoed in her mind. ‘Know your place.’

She wasn’t the protagonist of some story. She wasn’t special. This wasn’t her modern world anymore. It was time to wake up. Here, she was nothing more than a noble’s daughter, a few steps below the prince.

Who was she to trample the hereditary order that ruled this world? She had no power to demand, no right to act as she pleased. This wasn’t some petty quarrel like at the celebration party two days ago, where she could talk back and walk away unscathed. She had been foolish, arrogant enough to think the world would bend for her. Delusional enough to believe she was the main character.

No.

The prince had only refused her request. He would not help her, no matter how desperately she pleaded, no matter how much she tried to appeal to his sympathy. However, he had the right to refuse.

Seraphine’s chest ached, her face flushed. Not just from the lingering pain in her body, but from the raw sting of humiliation and frustration. She had thought it would work, thought that her determination and desperate cries of her situation would move him. But it only backfired.

She had overstepped, tried to manipulate him, and now she felt the sting of her own childish temper.

She only wanted fairness. A chance for the world to recognize the injustice done to her, the fact that she had been plucked from her life without consent. She had not sought control, only acknowledgment, only some measure of recompense.

And yet, he had denied her.

The anger that flared in her chest was bitter, almost bitterer than the shame. It was not towards the prince, but to herself.

She knew it was wrong of her to expect the world to shift for her, to let her emotions dictate her actions, but a small, stubborn part of her insisted she had been right. He had dared to refuse a desperate girl. He had dared to insult her in that refusal. And it rubbed her the wrong way against her pride.

Her limbs ached, her body heavy from both pain and the effort it took to maintain composure. She wanted to collapse into the snow again, to curl up and let the cold wash over her, but she forced herself to sit up straight. She had to feel this. She had to face it.

–Stop thinking you’re right. Throw your pride and ego away.

It was almost ironic that she wished to bring her lover to this world. She should just focus on returning to her own world. She didn’t belong here. She was a girl out of place, acting on impulse and flawed logic. The crown prince had reminded her of that. And now, she had no choice but to remember it herself.

Her shoulders slumped. Every breath was a reminder of her failure. Her stubbornness had led her here. Bruised, sore, humiliated. It was not the world’s fault. It was hers.

However, it was not too late yet. She could still redeem herself.

Carefully, Seraphine pushed Lucien away, freeing herself from his protective hold. Her knees sank into the snow, hands and elbows brushing against the cold, damp ground. She lowered her head until her forehead nearly touched the snow. The icy flakes clung to her skin, melting into tiny streams that sent shivers crawling up her spine. Her body still throbbed, muscles tight and sore from the battle, but the pain was manageable now. She would use it. Let it mark her. Let it remind her of what she must be: careful, cautious, and unwilling to bring harm or humiliation to others.

Lucien had been kind, and protective of her. She had let it happen.

But no longer.

To allow it to continue unchecked might one day cost him his life, should he ever defy the crown prince for her sake. The thought alone made her feel sick.

Her parents had been nothing but kind towards her. Guilt coiled around her heart like a serpent. She could not, would not, let them bear the burden of her mistakes again. Never again would she allow them to bow or apologize for her foolishness.

“My sincere apologies for my rude behavior and any offense I caused you, Your Highness.” Her voice was quiet, steady. No mockery this time. No defiance. Only genuine regret.

“I thank you for healing me, despite my repeated challenges to Your Highness. I am grateful beyond words. Please forgive my foolishness this once.”

The act of kneeling humiliated her in a way she had never experienced before. Her pride bristled, yet she accepted it. She had to.

“Then why did you do it?” Prince Cassian’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. He did not give her the comfort of leniency. His eyes pierced through the lowered veil of her hair, unyielding.

Her heart was beating faster under the pressure. She didn’t dare look up.

“I… I was stubborn. I let pride get in my way. I thought I could prove something, but… I only made a fool of myself.”

Her voice cracked. She hated how small it sounded.

The memories came rushing back. She remembered how easily she’d lost control, sulking over a simple refusal, twisting things just to earn pity. Acting as if the world owed her something. No. That wasn’t right. There was no excuse for it. She had to take responsibility, confront herself honestly, and change.

She had to control her temper. She had been far too emotional lately.

Had this world pushed her to the brink of insanity? That was no excuse. She was not a child. She must behave with dignity, with awareness, regardless of her status or the whims of fate.

“Fine,” Cassian said at last. “I will overlook this incident. It seems you have learned your lesson. You may stand.”

Her eyes flicked up at him. Unlike her parents, he did not extend a hand. His arms were crossed, gaze heavy with silent judgment. Perhaps disdain.

–I deserve that.

Lucien stepped forward instead, lifting her to her feet with careful strength.

Seraphine’s face burned with shame. She avoided every eye around her. She had failed, and in full view of those who mattered most.

Maybe she could still work toward her goals. Maybe she could still steer the future in her favor. But only with patience, careful thought, and discipline. Rashness only led her to her downfall.

Mistakes came with a price. She could feel it still, etched into her skin.

Lucien’s hand was still firm at her side as they left the training yard. Every step sent a dull ache through her body, and the cold bit at her skin through the torn fabric of her pants and sleeves. She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. The silence felt safer.

The corridors were quiet except for the echo of their footsteps. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. Each step reminded her of her defeat, of her foolishness, of how stupidly she’d acted.

When they reached her room, Lucien stopped by the door. “You should rest,” he said quietly. “I’ll call for Alisea.”

She nodded, barely glancing up. “…Thank you.” Her voice was small, rough at the edges.

Alisea came soon after, her face pale with worry the moment she saw Seraphine. “My lady! You’re freezing. You shouldn’t have been out there for so long.”

Seraphine didn’t answer. She just stood there, letting the maid fuss over her, her body moving only when guided. Alisea’s hands were gentle as she helped her out of her ruined dress, muttering under her breath about how cold her skin felt, how she could have caught a fever.

The bath was already drawn when Alisea returned with steaming water and soft towels. The scent of lavender rose from it, filling the room with warmth. Seraphine sank into the tub slowly, her muscles burning as the heat touched her skin.

For a moment, it felt unbearable. Then it melted into something else. Something almost… comforting.

She leaned back, eyes half-closed. The warmth seeped into her bones, and the ache in her body slowly dulled.

Alisea knelt beside her, washing the dried sweat and dirt from her arms. “You shouldn’t push yourself like this,” she murmured softly. “No one expected you to win against His Highness.”

“I know,” Seraphine whispered. The words barely reached above the sound of the water. “I just… didn’t want to look weak.”

Alisea gave a small sigh. “Strength means knowing when to stop, my lady.”

Seraphine let her words hang in the air. The water rippled as she lowered her hands under the surface, watching the faint shimmer of her reflection twist apart. Her own face looked distant. Someone else’s.

–I’ve been so stupid. Who am I to despise Seraphine? Maybe I’m just as foolish as she was. Who knows. Maybe that’s why I was chosen…

Her throat tightened. The steam made her eyes sting.

Lucien’s worried expression flashed through her mind. Her parents’ apologies. Cassian’s cold voice. Each one a cut, sharper than any sword. The pain inside her chest felt worse than the injuries she had to endure.

By the time Alisea helped her from the bath and wrapped her in soft linen, Seraphine’s strength had nearly left her. She murmured her thanks as the maid slipped her into a fresh nightgown and guided her to bed.

Lucien was waiting by the door. When their eyes met, he gave a small nod. No words. Just that quiet, steady presence.

“Thank you,” she whispered again.

He bowed slightly before leaving, the door closing behind him.

Seraphine lay on her side, eyes tracing the delicate frost curling across the windowpane. Her tears were wet and sharp, but not from the aches in her body. They came from something worse. Herself. She hated herself for her own stupidity.

She had made a fool of herself. And for what? Pride she didn’t deserve? Anger she couldn’t justify? That ridiculous hope that if she pushed hard enough, if she begged enough, she would just find a way home?

–No. Stop. Stop being an idiot. Get your act together.

She wiped her tears, clenching the blanket tighter around her shivering frame.

A soft knock at the door made her stiffen.

“…Seraphine, can we talk?”

It was Edmund’s voice, calm but deliberate. Her heart started to beat faster, her breathing became more shallow. For long seconds she even forgot to breathe.

Talk? Was it… punishment? Had she taken their kindness for granted? Was this the moment she’d be scolded, disowned, or worse? She had thought he promised to take responsibility for her, to protect her, but now… she didn’t know what to expect.

Her heart hammered. She wanted to hide under the blankets, disappear, anything to escape the judgment she feared was coming.

But the door creaked open before she could decide.

[Author’s Note: If you want to stay more up to date with schedules, check out my Minkly.]