Chapter 6: Of Poison Plots and Pacing Hearts
Elaine was not particularly fond of court politics. But the body she possessed now was the unknown young noble lady, an extra who used to be a 'belle of the court'.
Today's event was unfortunate, because she was currently neck-deep in them—again. Or… for the first time? Depending on how you counted time when it refused to go in a straight line.
"She's trying to poison me," Elaine whispered, eyeing the tray of macarons on the lace-covered table like they'd sprouted fangs.
"You don't know that," Lior replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was half-agreed.
"She smiled at me, Lior. Smiled. Like she wanted to make a corset out of my skin."
"That's just Lady Virella's natural resting face."
"She also told me I'd 'die for my fashion sense.' That's not even a thinly veiled threat—it's just foreshadowing with extra blush."
Lior sighed. Scratched his chin and said. "To be fair, your last gown did look like it lost a duel with a chandelier."
Elaine glared. "I'm sorry, are we here to investigate noble sabotage or audition for court jester?"
He smiled. "Why not both?"
The tension in her chest lessened just a little. Lior's dry sarcasm was the only thing that made these rewind days bearable. That, and the fact that—so far—he hadn't tried to kill her. A rare trait at these luncheons.
Across the table, Lady Virella delicately bit into a macaron. 'Poison.' Elaine thought. 'Definitely poison.'
She reached for one anyway—then paused. "What if this is the day she actually?"
Without a word, Lior slid his plate toward her and swapped theirs.
Elaine stared. "That's..."
"Chivalrous? Brave?"
"I was going to say reckless. What if it's poisoned and tastes like lavender?"
"I'll die with regrets."
She rolled her eyes. "So dramatic."
"You love it."
Unfortunately, she did.
The luncheon crawled by, all perfume and false laughter and paper-thin politeness. When it finally ended—no corpses in sight—they returned to the palace.
Elaine collapsed onto her chaise the moment her door clicked shut. "If one more noblewoman tries to murder me with baked goods, I'm going to start drinking vinegar just to build immunity."
Lior leaned against the doorframe. "You're adapting."
"I'm one sugar cube away from snapping."
"That's your baseline."
She lobbed a cushion at him. He caught it one-handed.
Elaine sighed, then sat up slowly. "You know, this luncheon? It reminded me of something." She started mumbling.
'In the original story, this part led into a scandal. Someone forged a royal letter. There was a duel. A goat got involved.'
Lior blinked. "A goat?" He heared the last word of Elaine's mumbling.
"It was a plot device. Don't question it."
"But what in the world—a goat?"
"Yes," she said. "I think it's coming. And I think I'm the only one who knows."
He tilted his head. "Then maybe you're here to change it or whatever that means."
She looked at him. "You really believe that?"
"I don't know what I believe." His voice softened. "But you see the world differently. Like you're always one step ahead of it."
Elaine's heart thumped, just once, a little too loud. "If I keep going backward... eventually, I'll reach the beginning."
Lior's eyes didn't waver. "I can't even understand you."
"And when that day comes, you won't remember me," she whispered.
"Maybe not," he said confused while stepping close. "But something in me might."
And that, somehow, made it worse.
Because falling in love backwards meant remembering everything... including how it ends.