A HUNDRED YEARS BEFORE

Chapter5

The room was heavy with silence. Nova’s hand trembled as the knife pressed against her wrist. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Penelope exclaimed, “Stop this madness! Do you understand what you’re doing? A scar on a woman’s hand brings disgrace! If the King sees it, he will never accept you. You’ll be discarded like trash. Put it down! I’m just trying to save your life!”

Her aunt’s voice wavered, sounding higher than normal, nearly frantic. For once, Penelope's usual cold demeanor had cracked.

Nova tightened her grip on the knife. Slowly and purposefully, she dragged the tip across her skin, feeling a sharp sting that made everyone gasp. Amelia cried out and rushed toward her, but Nova shot her head up, her eyes fierce.

Nova (in Natalie’s body): “I am not Natalie! Do you hear me? I am Nova. My father is Christian. He’s waiting for me at home. I want to return to him!”

Her voice trembled with anger, pain, and desperation. With her free hand, she yanked open the drawer next to her bed and pulled out a small, old clock that glinted in the dim light.

Nova declared, “This… this is what brought me here. This object pulled me into this body. Don’t you understand? I don’t belong here!”

Gasps echoed throughout the room as the servants exchanged worried looks and whispers spread quickly.

Servant 1 murmured, “She’s lost her mind…” Servant 2 replied, “The poison must have driven her mad…”

Penelope snapped back, “Nonsense! Stop talking nonsense, Natalie! Don’t bring further shame upon me!”

Nova held the clock tightly against her chest, tears streaming down her face. Her voice broke as she yelled out.

Nova: “I told you, I’m not her! I’m Nova! I just want to go home!”

But no one paid attention. They stared at her as if she had lost her mind completely. Penelope’s lips twisted, struggling to regain her composure.

Penelope:She’s losing it.

Nova's arm trembled. The knife shook in her grip, pressing harder against her skin until a thin line of blood formed. The sight made Amelia drop to her knees, shaking with fear.

Amelia: “My lady, please don’t do this. If you really are someone else, then live. Don’t let them win. Don’t let her win.”

But Nova couldn’t stop crying. Her chest felt heavy with pain. She dropped the knife with a loud clatter and slumped against the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Her body trembled under the burden of two lives—her old one that was now gone, and this harsh new one forced upon her.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a bang. Emily entered, looking immaculate but clearly annoyed.

Emily: “What’s happening here? The King’s ceremony is about to start, and she isn’t even dressed yet? Are you trying to embarrass this family in front of everyone?”

Her eyes narrowed at Nova’s tear-streaked face.

Emily: “Pathetic. Look at you, you can’t even sit still without causing chaos.”

She turned to Penelope, her tone softer but still biting.

Emily: “Mother, if she messes this up, all our hard work will be for nothing.”

Before Nova could respond, two tall guards stepped in behind Emily—sent to take her away. Their armor clinked as they moved closer, their faces expressionless.

Guard 1: “Lady Natalie must be ready. We cannot delay the ceremony.”

They acted quickly; one grabbed her arm and pulled the knife from the floor. The other bound her wrists with a strip of thick cloth.

Nova shouted, “Let me go! I don’t belong here! Do you hear me? I’m not Natalie!” But the guards ignored her pleas. Amelia hurried forward, fear written across her face.

“Please, let me at least tend to her wound! She can’t face the King like this!” Amelia begged. The guards exchanged glances before allowing her and another maid to kneel beside Nova. They carefully cleaned the small cut in her hand and wrapped it in fresh linen. Amelia’s hands trembled throughout the process.

“Please don’t fight anymore, my lady. Just please,” Amelia pleaded.

Tears continued to stream down Nova’s face as she allowed the maids to dress her in a silk gown, fastening ribbons and smoothing out the fabric. It felt heavy on her shoulders—like beautiful chains. She held onto the clock tightly even as they tied the final sash around her waist, refusing to let it go.

Emily instructed, “Wipe her face. The King won’t be pleased with a bride who has been crying.” The maids complied, dabbing Nova’s cheeks, combing her hair, and pinning it neatly in place. To an outsider, she appeared to be a perfect young lady ready for a royal ceremony. Yet inside, she felt shattered, trapped, and more isolated than ever.

Finally, Penelope stepped forward with a stern look on her face. “Natalie, listen closely. Don’t mention madness again or talk about clocks or fathers or anything that might make you seem crazy. If you embarrass us before the King, you’ll wish you had taken that knife to your throat instead.”

Nova slowly raised her head; her tears had dried but left her eyes red yet resolute. “You think you can control me? Just watch,” she replied defiantly.

Penelope’s mouth fell open in shock at the icy defiance in Nova's voice.

This wasn’t the gentle side of Natalie; it was something sharper, something she found harder to manipulate.

The guards moved in once more. One pointed toward the door.

Guard 2: “It’s time.”

They each took hold of her arm and led her forward. With her wrists still tied and her heart racing, Nova felt the clock pressed tightly against her palm as she was escorted down the hallway.

Penelope's eyes sparkled when she noticed the clock in Nova's hand.

Penelope said, “Get that useless item away from her.”

A maid quickly followed her order, feigning a need to fix Nova's sleeve. With smooth skill, she took the clock from Nova. Nova’s heart sank.