Unseen Challenges

The next morning dawned cold and quiet, a light snowfall dusting the palace grounds in a blanket of white. Amara woke up still disoriented, the now-familiar weight of Lysander’s body settling around her like a foreign garment she couldn’t take off. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from her mind. The events of the past few days still felt like an absurd dream, but the unfamiliar sharpness of Lysander’s movements reminded her that this was her reality now.

Across the room, Lysander stirred in her bed, his movements ungraceful in her body, clearly still uncomfortable in his borrowed skin. Amara sat up and stretched, feeling the strange weight of Lysander’s muscles and broad shoulders. Even after a full day of practice, she still couldn’t get used to the sensation.

"We need to be careful today," Lysander murmured, his voice soft in her usual tone. He sat up slowly, pushing back the covers and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Amara nodded, adjusting to the deeper tone of Lysander’s voice. "You’re right. Today’s meeting with the council is important. We can’t afford to slip up."

The previous night had been spent practising more mannerisms and subtle behaviours, but today was the real test. They were expected to attend a council meeting, where members from both their families would be present, along with high-ranking nobles who had been eagerly watching their union. In this highly political arena, any mistake could unravel everything.

Amara stood and crossed the room to the window, glancing out at the snow-covered grounds below. The kingdom lay quiet, but the storm of courtly intrigue swirled just beneath the surface. She could already feel the tension building for the day ahead.

“How do you usually handle these meetings?” she asked, keeping her gaze outside. “I’ve attended a few, but not like this.”

Lysander rose slowly, his movements more confident now in her body, though there was still an underlying awkwardness. “You listen more than you speak,” he said, walking toward her. “Show strength, but don’t engage unless necessary. My father will handle most of the conversation.”

Amara nodded, trying to commit that to memory. “And what about me? Or… you?”

Lysander hesitated, glancing down at his new form before meeting her eyes. “You’ll need to play the role of support. Offer input where it makes sense, but don’t overshadow your father. They expect Amara to be charming, but not overbearing.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Amara muttered, crossing her arms. “You’re used to being in the background. I’m not.”

Lysander’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. “You’ll manage. You’re good at adapting.”

The words were simple, but they carried a hint of unexpected respect, and it caught Amara off guard. She had expected Lysander to remain cold and distant, but in moments like this, she realized there was more to him than she had originally thought.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” she said with a sigh, turning away from the window.

The hours before the meeting passed in tense silence, each of them focused on preparing for the challenge ahead. Amara studied Lysander’s usual approach, practising walking with his strong, confident stride and maintaining his composed unreadable expression. Lysander, meanwhile, practised her more graceful movements and relaxed gestures. By the time they were called to the council chambers, they felt more prepared—but the tension remained.

The council chambers were grand, with tall windows letting in the pale winter light. A long table stretched across the centre, where nobles and council members were already seated. Lord Blackwood sat at the head, his stern expression a permanent fixture. Beside him was Lady Blackwood, her sharp eyes studying the room. Across from them sat Lord Elarian, Amara’s father, with a handful of advisers. All eyes turned toward Amara and Lysander as they entered.

“Ah, Lysander, Amara,” Lord Blackwood greeted, his voice smooth but authoritative. “You’re just in time.”

Amara—now in Lysander’s body—nodded curtly, offering a brief smile that felt stiff and awkward. “Apologies for the delay, Father.”

Lysander, walking in Amara’s body, stepped forward with a practised grace that he had only just perfected. “Good morning, Lord Blackwood. Lord Elarian,” he said, keeping his voice steady. He lowered himself into the seat beside Amara, hands folded delicately in front of him. Amara followed his lead, sitting with the quiet strength she had been practising.

The meeting began, and the room filled with the usual courtly discussions—alliances, trade routes, disputes with neighbouring kingdoms. Amara did her best to keep her face impassive, nodding occasionally, responding when necessary, but keeping her words brief. Beside her, Lysander played the part of Amara perfectly, offering polite smiles and measured responses when addressed. No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

But as the meeting continued, Amara’s focus began to slip. One of the nobles brought up the upcoming feast, an event that would gather all the prominent families of the kingdom, and her stomach churned. Attending a feast in Lysander’s body, playing the role of her cold, distant husband, felt impossible. How long could they keep this charade going before someone noticed?

She glanced over at Lysander, who caught her eye for just a moment. His expression remained calm, but she could see the same tension mirrored in his eyes. He was thinking the same thing—they were running out of time.

Suddenly, Lord Elarian’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Lysander, what’s your opinion on the upcoming trade agreement with Westbourne?”

Amara’s heart skipped a beat. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. Her mind raced—how would Lysander respond? What was his usual stance on these matters?

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to sit taller. “I think it would be wise to proceed cautiously,” she said, her voice steady. “Westbourne has a history of unstable negotiations. We should gather more information before committing.”

Lord Elarian nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. “A wise suggestion, Lysander.”

Amara exhaled quietly, her pulse still racing. She had passed the test, for now.

As the meeting drew to a close, Amara and Lysander exchanged another glance. They had survived the day’s challenges, but the weight of their deception was growing heavier with each passing hour. How much longer could they continue living this lie?

As they left the council chambers, Amara’s thoughts turned once again to the cryptic words from the ancient tome—about understanding and connecting. She had no idea how long it would take to unlock the secret to their return, but one thing was certain: they couldn’t afford to fail.

And with each day that passed, the line between who they were and who they were pretending to be became even more blurred.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***