The last thing I remember is screeching tires. The smell of burnt rubber. The truck’s headlights swallowing me whole. Then- Silk sheets. I jolt upright, gasping like a drowned woman. My hands fly to my face-wrong skin, wrong bones. The room spins: velvet drapes, gilded mirrors, a crystal chandelier dangling above me like a guillotine. “What the hell…?” My voice-not mine-sounds like honey and venom spun together. I scramble off the bed, tripping over a nightgown that costs more than my college tuition. The mirror across the room mocks me. I lurch toward it, gripping the vanity. The girl staring back is all wrong. Porcelain skin. Wine-dark hair. Eyes like shattered emeralds. Airrah of Felician-the villainess I’d screamed at last night while reading Frostbound Crown. The one who’d poisoned the prince’s lover. Who’d… “Oh my god. I’m her.” The scream tears out of me before I can stop it. The door explodes open. Cold air rushes in, carrying the scent of snow and steel. The man in the doorway is all sharp edges-silver hair tied back, a scar cutting through his brow, eyes so blue they burn. Prince Kaelric. The novel’s ice-hearted protagonist. The man who’d rather strangle me than look at me. And right now? He’s pissed. “What fresh hell are you concocting now?” His voice could freeze lava. I back into the vanity, knocking over perfume bottles. “I-I didn’t-!” “Save your theatrics.” He steps closer, gloved hand resting on his sword. “You’ve already delayed today’s trial. If this is another ploy to protect your precious Lucas-” Lucas? The saintess’s brother. The real villain. I bite my lip hard. Play the role. Survive first. “My apologies, Your Highness.” I curtsy, mimicking Airrah’s trademark smirk. “Just a… nightmare about your wedding.” His jaw tightens. “Liar.” But I see it-the flicker in his gaze. The unspoken question: Since when do you fear anything? The game begins.

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