Chapter 2 Into the lion's den

When Emily opened her eyes, the world around her was a haze of herbs, smoke, and soft murmurs. She lay in a cold, stark room filled with strange jars and dried plants hanging from beams above. She blinked, still trying to shake the surreal sense that this was a dream, but the ache in her limbs and the weight of damp, muddy clothes against her skin told her otherwise.

Her thoughts spun, trying to make sense of it all-how had she gone from being a designer in the modern world to lying in this unfamiliar room, dressed in the ruins of an ancient gown?

Moments later, attendants entered, speaking to her in low, respectful tones she didn't fully understand. Before she could protest or ask questions, they began preparing her for something, guiding her to a bathing chamber with intricately tiled walls and bowls filled with fragrant oils and rose petals. She was scrubbed clean, her hair washed and styled, and afterward dressed in a formal gown of luxurious fabric embroidered with gold and silver. Emily looked at her reflection in a polished metal mirror and barely recognized the face staring back.

"Lady Eleanor," one of the attendants said, drawing her attention. "You are summoned by the Empress Dowager."

Emily nodded, her mind racing. *Lady Eleanor.* The name clung to her, making her feel as if she were wrapped in someone else's life, their title, their fate.

As she was led down grand corridors, Emily tried to steel herself. She'd woken up in a strange world, and now she was about to meet a powerful woman-the Empress Dowager, mother of Alexander. Emily's heart beat faster. This woman was the one insisting Eleanor marry Alexander, a match she wanted because Eleanor, as the legitimate daughter of a duke, carried a title that would add honor to the royal family.

The room where the Empress waited was massive, with tall columns, embroidered tapestries, and a sense of authority in every detail. The Empress sat on a high platform, her gaze cold and sharp as she looked down at Emily. The atmosphere thickened, heavy with unspoken judgments.

"Lady Eleanor," the Empress Dowager began, her voice carrying a note of weariness. "Your behavior has disappointed me yet again. First, you disgrace yourself by throwing yourself into the river, and now you show no respect for the honor of your place."

Emily felt panic rising within her but forced herself to remain silent. She had no idea why Eleanor would have jumped into the river, nor could she offer any defense. She met the Empress's gaze, trying to mask her confusion with a blank expression.

"It is no secret that I seek to unite you with Alexander," the Empress continued, her tone sharp. "As the daughter of a duke, it is only fitting. But your conduct does nothing to help your cause. It is not enough to simply be legitimate in birth, Eleanor. You must prove your worth."

Emily clenched her hands, wondering how she could ever live up to the expectations surrounding her. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Alexander entering the room. His gaze settled on her with an intensity that made her heart clench, but his expression was one of distaste, almost contempt. It was as if he were looking through her, seeing only Eleanor, a woman he had no desire to love, let alone marry.

The Empress's eyes narrowed, shifting to Alexander. "Do not forget, my son, that Lady Eleanor is a noble match for you. She is your equal, a true daughter of a noble line. Do not let idle feelings cloud your duty."

Alexander's jaw tightened, and Emily could feel his resentment boiling beneath his composed exterior. "Yes, Mother," he replied, his voice cold.

The Empress dismissed Emily with a nod, her disappointment palpable. And though Emily was escorted from the chamber, the weight of the Empress's expectations and Alexander's anger hung heavily in the air around her.

As she followed the attendants, Emily's mind swirled with questions, fear, and the bewildering realization that she was now trapped in a life where duty and resentment overshadowed everything else.