A Game of Deception

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The sun was already high in the sky by the time Amara and Lysander made their way to the grand dining hall. Every step felt heavy with the weight of their deception. Amara, trapped in Lysander’s body, walked with his confident stride, though inside she was anything but calm. Lysander, now in Amara’s form, moved with a grace that surprised even him, though his eyes betrayed the tension simmering beneath the surface.

As they approached the long table where their families were already seated, Amara caught Lysander’s eye, silently reminding him to keep his composure. They couldn’t afford to let anyone notice that something was amiss.

“Good morning,” Lysander greeted, his voice light and measured as he pulled out a chair for Amara. It was strange hearing her own voice, the soft tones so different from what he was used to. But he mimicked her mannerisms as best as he could, praying it would be enough.

“Morning,” Amara replied, her voice deeper and steadier than she felt inside. She sat down, trying to appear as confident as Lysander usually did.

Lord and Lady Blackwood, Lysander’s parents, exchanged a brief glance. Amara couldn’t tell if they had noticed anything odd, but she forced herself to smile politely.

“How did you both sleep?” Lady Blackwood asked, her eyes flickering between them with a hint of curiosity.

“Well enough,” Lysander—now Amara—replied, reaching for a piece of bread. He handled it delicately, his movements mirroring what he had seen Amara do many times before. “Though I must admit, the excitement of yesterday left me rather restless.”

Amara nodded, careful to keep her expression neutral. “The wedding day was indeed exhausting.”

Lord Elarian, Amara’s father, looked over at her with a sharp eye. “I trust you’re both ready to fulfill your duties,” he said, his tone serious.

Amara felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She knew her father wasn’t just talking about the marriage. There were expectations—political and social—that came with their union. Expectations that neither she nor Lysander had wanted, but that were now unavoidable.

“Of course,” Lysander answered for her, his voice steady and confident. “We are fully committed to the responsibilities that come with our union.”

The conversation moved on, but Amara could feel her pulse racing. How long could they keep this up? Each word, each movement had to be calculated to avoid suspicion. The idea of living like this indefinitely was terrifying.

After breakfast, the families dispersed to attend to their various duties, leaving Amara and Lysander alone in the corridor outside the dining hall. As soon as the door closed behind them, Amara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“That was close,” she muttered, glancing around to make sure they were alone.

Lysander nodded, his expression grim. “Too close. We need to find a solution to this—quickly.”

They made their way through the castle, heading toward the library as they had planned. The palace library was vast, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls that covered every subject imaginable, from history and politics to magic and folklore. If there was any information on what had happened to them, it would be here.

As they entered the library, the scent of old books and parchment filled the air. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched out before them, the spines of the books worn and faded with age.

“We should start with the section on magical anomalies,” Lysander suggested, leading the way to a secluded corner of the library. “There might be something there about body swaps or other forms of soul transference.”

Amara followed, her eyes scanning the shelves as they walked. “Do you really think we’ll find anything?” she asked, doubt creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know,”

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