The ink flowed easily onto the parchment, her handwriting looping in careful strokes as she wrote.
She had been doing this more and more lately. Writing. Recording. Documenting thoughts she didn't dare speak aloud.
Not about the novel. Not about the way the plot was shifting beyond her control.
But about the people in it.
Beatrice paused, her quill hovering over the page. The candlelight flickered beside her, casting long shadows across the desk.
It was strange. She had lived in this world long enough now that she no longer hesitated before writing their names.
Lila. Francois. Johanna. The queen. The king.
Once upon a time, they had only been characters to her. Now, they were something else entirely.
She exhaled slowly, pressing the quill to the parchment once more.
Princess Lila.
Beatrice had never expected to become close to her. Not in this lifetime. Not with their history.
And yet, here they were.
