Chapter 5 A Web of Deceit

The weight of Lady Eleanor's journal pressed heavily on her mind. The neatly penned words, the meticulous record of alliances and betrayals-it all made sense now. She wasn't just living in a world of court politics; she was sitting on a powder keg, one that Lady Eleanor had been carefully balancing for years. And now, it seemed, someone had decided to tip it over.

She barely slept that night, haunted by the implications of the journal's final entry. What was Eleanor preparing for? Was her accident truly an accident, or had it been part of a plot to remove her from the game? If so, then it was only a matter of time before they realized she wasn't the same Eleanor-and they'd come for her, too.

By the next morning, the estate buzzed with activity. The northern delegation would arrive today, and she was expected to attend the formal dinner in their honor. The very thought of it made her stomach churn. She would be surrounded by people who knew more about Eleanor's world than she did, and she would have to play her part flawlessly.

She dressed carefully, choosing a gown of deep emerald green-something elegant, powerful, but not too ostentatious. Alice, as always, attended to her with a quiet efficiency, though the maid's eyes held a mixture of curiosity and concern. After a week of seeing her lady act differently, it was clear Alice was starting to sense something was off.

"Will you be joining the Duke for the reception, my lady?" Alice asked, as she pinned up the last strand of her hair.

She nodded, trying to keep her voice calm. "Yes. I'll be there."

As Alice finished, she caught her own reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked regal, composed-the perfect image of Lady Eleanor. But beneath the surface, she felt anything but composed. She was walking into a game of intrigue and deception that she barely understood.

When Alice left the room, she reached into the drawer and pulled out the journal again, flipping through the entries for any final clues. Nothing stood out except the names-powerful nobles, allies, and enemies, all entwined in the same dance. Whoever had been involved in the political scheming, their actions would likely be revealed during the evening's dinner.

With a deep breath, she closed the journal, tucking it away once more. I have to be ready for anything tonight, she told herself. The northern delegation held the key to whatever had been brewing before Eleanor's accident, and tonight's dinner would likely offer the first glimpse into the danger she now faced.

As she descended the grand staircase to the main hall, she was met with a sea of bustling servants preparing for the feast. The Duke stood at the center of it all, overseeing the final touches, his commanding presence a stark reminder of his role in this world. When he spotted her approaching, his gaze softened ever so slightly.

"You look prepared," he remarked, his voice as steady as ever.

She smiled, though the tension in her chest only grew. "It's an important night. I trust everything is in order?"

The Duke's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he nodded. "The northern delegation will arrive within the hour. I expect you'll play your usual role."

Her usual role. The way he said it implied something more than just a figurehead presence. Eleanor had clearly been a key player in these negotiations before, and now she had no choice but to step into those shoes. She had to be sharp, observant, and, above all, careful.

"I'll be by your side," she assured him, though a part of her wondered if that was truly what he wanted. The Duke had been hard to read since her arrival in this world-his affection distant, his trust tempered by something she couldn't quite place.

The arrival of the northern delegation shattered her thoughts. A procession of horses and carriages rolled up to the estate, the banners of the northern territories flapping in the wind. A group of men and women disembarked, their expressions as severe as the icy land they hailed from. The leader, a tall, imposing man with silver-streaked hair and sharp blue eyes, approached the Duke with a formal bow.

"Duke Alistair," the man greeted. "Lord Varon of the north. It's an honor to meet you."

The Duke returned the bow with equal respect, though his smile never reached his eyes. "Lord Varon. Welcome to our home. We've been expecting you."

Varon's gaze flickered toward her then, his eyes narrowing slightly as they locked onto hers. "And this must be Lady Eleanor, the famed strategist of the court."

She stiffened, but forced herself to smile. "You honor me, Lord Varon. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"As pleasant as it can be, given the circumstances." His voice was low, but there was an edge to it-an unspoken tension that made her stomach tighten. "The north is eager to see these negotiations come to fruition. We have much to discuss."

She inclined her head in agreement, though her mind was already racing. There was something in Varon's tone, in his posture, that hinted at more than just political maneuvering. He was testing her, watching her every move, as if looking for cracks in the facade.

Dinner that evening was a grand affair, held in the estate's great hall. The table was laden with fine food and wine, and the conversation around her buzzed with talk of alliances, trade, and the growing tensions at the borders. Yet, for all the politeness, she could feel the undercurrent of suspicion in every glance cast her way.

As the courses progressed, Lord Varon kept his gaze fixed on her, his questions pointed and probing. Each inquiry felt like a trap, designed to expose any weaknesses or inconsistencies in her responses. She held her ground as best she could, relying on vague answers and feigned familiarity with Eleanor's past dealings.

But the strain was wearing on her.

At one point, when the conversation had turned to the matter of Lady Anna's potential marriage, Lord Varon leaned forward, his blue eyes gleaming with cold amusement.

"You've always had a talent for seeing through the fog of politics, Lady Eleanor," he said, his voice dripping with hidden meaning. "Tell me, what do you truly think of this alliance? Is it a wise move for your house?"

She froze for just a second, the question catching her off guard. There was more to this question than simple curiosity-she could feel it. The eyes of the entire table turned toward her, awaiting her answer.

The journal's warnings rang in her mind: Something is brewing. I must be prepared.

She forced a calm smile, though her pulse raced. "The alliance offers much-needed stability for both our lands. But it would be foolish to proceed without securing the proper guarantees for Lady Anna's safety. I trust that with careful negotiation, we can ensure both peace and prosperity for all."

Lord Varon's lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained cold. "Wise words, Lady Eleanor. As always."

The tension between them simmered as the rest of the table resumed their own conversations. She knew she had passed his test-for now. But there was no mistaking the warning in his gaze.

As the evening drew to a close and the northern delegation retired to their quarters, she found herself alone in the estate's grand hall, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the room.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she had only scratched the surface of whatever plot was unfolding around her. Lord Varon had come here for more than an alliance. There was something deeper at play-something that could very well be the reason for Eleanor's accident.

As she stood in the empty hall, a thought crept into her mind, chilling her to the bone: What if the person who wanted Eleanor gone was already inside these walls?

And what if they were still watching her every move?