Miyara's POV
I woke up that morning already on edge. My head was heavy, my thoughts even heavier, and I couldn't shake the feeling that every second I wasted was a nail in the coffin for the queen.
Me of course, anyways
Sixteen days, that's what I had. Sixteen days before everything came apart. You'd think that kind of deadline would light a fire under someone, make them sharper. Instead, I felt like I'd been dropped into someone else's skin because I literally had and told to keep up an act I didn't know the lines for.
The silence of the room only made it worse. Ayame wasn't in sight, but I could hear her in the next room, humming while she messed with something that sounded like pans. I sat up, pressing my hands into my knees, and the thought just came out of me before I could stop it: I need to get to the palace. Today.
By the time Ayame came back in with a plate of something that smelled too sweet for breakfast, I was already halfway pacing.
She set the plate down, frowned at me, and tilted her head. "You're up early. What's with the storm face? Bad dream?"
"I need to go to the palace," I blurted. Subtlety had never been my strength.
Ayame stopped cold, her hand still hovering over the table. "The palace?"
"Yes." I folded my arms like that would make the word sound normal, casual, like I wasn't actually trying to throw myself into the lion's den.
Her eyebrows climbed higher. "Since when does Miyara want to go to the palace? You hate that place. Last time we were there you swore you'd rather lick pig slop than sit through another boring court errand."
"I changed my mind," I said flatly.
She laughed once, sharp and short. "Sure. And pigs sprout wings every winter." She stepped closer, arms crossed now. "What's going on with you? You wake up acting like a ghost crawled into your skin and now suddenly you're desperate for palace work? Don't tell me nothing's wrong."
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to look as cornered as I felt. "Nothing's wrong."
"Nothing?" Her voice tilted up. "Miyara, you nearly bit my head off when I asked if you wanted tea last night. You've been acting like you swallowed nails. And now you want to run off to the palace for 'work'?" She even threw the air quotes at me.
"I do," I snapped, louder than I meant. My throat tightened, my heartbeat hammering harder now. "I want to go. Is that such a crime?"
Ayame blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "That's not an answer. Why?"
My mind raced. I couldn't exactly say, Because my real self is still trapped in a timeline where she's about to die, and I need to change everything before it repeats. I had to choke it down, press the truth under layers of half-lies.
"Because I want to," I said finally, each word clipped.
Ayame just stared. Then, slowly, the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Oh."
"What?" I asked, instantly suspicious.
"Ohhh." She dragged it out, smug now. "Now I get it."
"You don't get anything," I shot back.
She folded her arms tighter and tilted her head like a cat that just found a mouse hole. "This is about him, isn't it?"
I froze. "What are you talking about?"
"That boy," she said, like it was obvious. "The one you never shut up about when you think I'm not listening. The one with the stupid smile and the shoulders you keep pretending not to look at."
I almost laughed, except the laugh would've come out strangled. Perfect. I'm trying to stop a royal assassination and she thinks I'm boy-crazy.
"There is no boy," I said.
"Right." She smirked. "And I don't notice when you stare off like you're daydreaming about a ballad. You want to get close to him, don't you? That's why you're suddenly volunteering for palace work."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Ayame, for the last time, this has nothing to do with.."
"Then what?" she cut in, her voice louder now, sharper. "Because you're not acting like yourself, and it's starting to freak me out. You wake up talking nonsense, and now you want to run off to the palace with no reason. You can't just bark at me to accept that."
Her words hit harder than I wanted them to. She wasn't wrong; I wasn't acting like Miyara. I couldn't. I was carrying too much.
"I don't need to explain myself," I muttered, though the words tasted bitter.
"Yes, you do." Ayame planted herself in front of me, blocking the door. She wasn't tall, but right then she felt like a wall. "If you want me to cover for you, if you want me to keep up with whatever this is, then you owe me the truth."
I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to shove past her.
This bitch had no idea about who I actually am, if not she won't try any o this stuff she's trying right now.
The truth would break you, I thought. Out loud I said, "I just need to be there, Ayame. I need to work, I need to see what's happening, I…"
I caught myself. My words were sprinting too close to the edge.
"You need to see him," she finished for me, smug again.
"Stop saying that!" I snapped, my voice raw now. "This isn't about some boy."
"Then prove it!" she shot back, matching my fire. "Say why, or admit you're lying."
I couldn't tell her. I couldn't give her the real reason, not without unraveling everything.
"I can't," I whispered finally.
Her face fell, just a little, like she wasn't expecting me to fold. Then she set her jaw and shook her head. "Then don't expect me to follow you into whatever mess you're chasing. You'll have to do this alone."
Ayame brushed past me, muttering, "You're going to regret this."
I stood there, shaking, fists still tight. Of course I'll regret it. I've regretted everything since the moment I made that damn bargain.
And then I felt it. A cold shiver threading through the room, brushing the back of my neck. I turned sharply, but there was nothing just the shadow in the corner stretching long
er .
I swallowed hard. He's still watching.
But right then Ayame came in with some idea.