chapter 3
1328 Words
The c**k outside sounded like it was angry at Silvia personally. Her eyes shot open. She lay there for a moment, still confused. No cars, no televisions bleeding through walls. No steady hum of the city filling in the gaps. Only birds, wind, and wood creaking somewhere downstairs.
Silvia pushed herself up slowly, “f**k,” she hissed as her toes hit the stone floor
Still freezing.
Gray light slipped through iron bars on the window, softer now that the candle was out. It lit up the walls, some old tapestries which are clearer than last night. Nothing had changed. No miraculous reset.
“Okay, let's focus on the basics.” she thought.
She needed a bathroom. Out in the hall, everything was lined with dark wooden doors, the ray of the sun stretching across the stones from the narrow window. She heard some whispers and followed it until she hit a bigger room, the space warmer. A long table in the center. Fresh bread and something rich and buttery in the air.
Mary’s parents were already there. “Mary.” She got up fast. “You shouldn't be wandering around yet. The physician said”
“I need to use the bathroom,” Silvia cuts in.
Silence. Both parents blinked.
“I beg your pardon?” The mother sounded careful.
Right. Wrong century.
Silvia cleared her throat. “I need to bathe.” The parents exchanged a quick look. “Of course,” the mother said, gentle as ever. “Come with me.”
The bathing room looked exactly like modern plumbing had fought valiantly to avoid.A huge wooden tub sat in the center with pitchers of water nearby. Towels were folded neatly on a shelf beside a small fire built beneath stone.
No shower or taps.
Lovely.
“The water is warmed every morning,” Mary’s mother explained, moving around. “Soap is there by the screen. Fresh towels are here.”
Silvia stared at the tub.
Medieval bathing. Amazing.
“You do not remember where things are,” the woman said, low. Looking at Mary trying to find some hope.
“I’m still getting my bearings,” Silvia answered, trying to sound steady.
The mother’s face softened. She pointed out where Mary’s clothes were, extra linens, then squeezed Silvia’s hand before quietly leaving.
The door closed.Silvia looked around again.
“Getting my bearings,” she muttered. “Sure.”
The bath helped. Warm water loosened some of the ache inside her body, but her mind stayed loud. She lingered too long, staring at the ceiling. Thinking.
This was another world. Another time. Living a whole other girl’s life. And these people loved Mary. That part was obvious and risky. Sooner or later they'd notice she wasn't the real Mary. Until then she had to look for information or anything to help her answer her questions.
Deep down, the old woman’s voice echoed, "the past is coming for you.” Silvia sank deeper into the water. “Yeah, I got the memo,” she thought as she finished up.
The dressing room almost distracted her from her mental spiral. Rows of dresses filled the room, deep blues, creams, greens, reds. And finally, shoes. Silvia ran her fingers over the fabric.
Mary had taste. Actual taste, which honestly relieved Silvia a little. She picked a dark blue dress and spent far too long wrestling with layers, ribbons, sleeves clearly designed by people who hated comfort, and a pair of leather half-boots that laced to her ankles
Mary was beautiful. Caramel skin. Dark eyes. Strong brows. Soft lips that always looked a bit annoyed. But the hair,disaster.
“Absolutely not.” Silvia said, pulling out the pins until dark waves fell loose. She adjusted them, improvising. She checked the reflection again.
“There you are,” she said, low. Much better. She walked back downstairs. Both parents looked up when she came in. Mary’s mother clocked the hair instantly and paused just a beat before smoothing her expression.
“Sit,” the father said, warm. “You should eat.”
“I’m good, thanks.” Another blink. Too quick. Silvia sighed.
“I mean, thank you. I’m just not hungry.”
“Mary, you’ve barely eaten since we found you.”
“I want to visit the market.”
That stopped the conversation flat. “Fresh air might help,” she added, shooting for convincing. “Maybe seeing familiar streets will jog my memory.”
The mother looked skeptical.The father rummaged in his coat, and found a coin pouch. “The market is close by,” he said. “Stay on the main road.”
The mother looked, for a second, like she had a list of arguments lined up but kept quiet. Silvia took the pouch gratefully and slipped out before anyone changed their mind.
The market was pure chaos. Honestly, beautiful chaos. Voices everywhere. Merchants shouting from crowded stalls. Bread, smoke, spices, and perfume weaving into the air. Dresses swept across cobblestones while merchants shouted over one another. One thing she loved doing was shopping mostly during bad days and today was no different. Silvia stood still, just breathing it all in and started shopping.
Jewelry grabbed her attention first: metalwork, stones, beads. Then the fabrics, beautiful materials paired together in ways Silvia found almost offensive.
She touched everything with fascination.
Nobody here knew anything about styling properly.
Honestly tragic.
She bought more than she intended to.
She felt absolutely no guilt about it. Embroidery finally stole her focus, stunning patterns sewn into dark fabric.
She leaned in trying to get to the other side. One distracted step back. Then another.
Hooves hit cobblestone behind her. Fast.
A hand grabbed her arm, pulled her back hard, just as a horse thundered by. The wind hit her face as she spun around.
“What in the world of accidents am I always having?” she thought.
“Tha-”
“Are you always this reckless," the man cut her off easily, "or is today a particular occasion?"
Any gratitude evaporated. She stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"You walked directly into the road."
"I am aware of that."
"Clearly not before."
"I was trying to thank you. Then you got annoyed." she said.
"I am not annoying.” He lifted his dark eyebrow, "You ought to pay more attention to your surroundings."
"And you ought to learn how to speak to people."
"I am direct."
"Direct." She repeated the word back at him.“Direct is a very polite word for that.”
Something twitched at the corner of his mouth. Behind him his companion coughed quietly.
"My lord, perhaps we ought to leave."
"She walked directly into the path of a horse," the man replied without looking away from Silvia.
"And somehow you are more exhausting to deal with than the horse," Silvia shot back.”
She was too angry to notice the crowd slowly gathering around them.
"You are causing a scene." the man said, visibly irritated now.
"You started it."
"I pulled you from a certain injury."
"And then insulted me immediately after. Truly heroic.”
A girl appeared at Silvia's elbow almost immediately, fingers closing around her sleeve with quiet urgency, leaning in closed.
"I would strongly counsel you to cease, miss," she whispered fast, eyes wide. "That gentleman is His Royal Highness the Prince. I beg you to say nothing further.”
Everything paused. Silvia turned back
toward the man. Oh no. The crowd made sense now. The companions made sense as well. The silent watching. Silvia stepped back and attempted the most respectful bow she could manage with what little dignity remained.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” she said, quickly. “I didn’t realize-”
Silence. She straightened.
The Prince examined her with a smug face. Then turned. The crowd split apart as he walked away without a word. Silvia watched him vanish.
“Rude,” Silvia said under her breath.
- Writer
