1. Anna

Anna

" Y ou'll be late, Miss Anna."

"I'm sorry, what?" I grumble, covering my head with my pillow.

"Miss Anna, your mother will be furious with me if you're not dressed and downstairs this instant! Prince James will be here soon," the woman demands.

"Miss Anna? Prince? Huh?" I pull the pillow down and blink my eyes a few times to clear them of sleep. This isn't my room. "Uh, where am I?"

There's a vanity across from the bed. I don't own a vanity. The ceilings are twice the height of mine, adorned with intricate crown moulding. Velvet curtains span the length of the wall… And what is she wearing? What am I wearing?

"There's no time for theatrics, Miss Anna. We must get you dressed at once!"

She rushes across the room and begins preparing what can only be described as a white nightgown, which is most definitely not mine. As I take stock of my surroundings, I'm worried that I'm either drunk or still dreaming. A quick pinch indicates I'm not still asleep and must be on some kind of mushroom hallucination.

I knew that the tea I bought at the farmers market looked suspicious…

Playing along with this imaginary woman, I ask, "What time is Prince James arriving?" My hand flies to my mouth; I have a thick RP accent that isn't my own.

"Any moment, Miss." She continues scurrying around the room, and I slide out of the extremely comfortable sheets. My feet hit the cold hard floor, and I wince, drawing attention to myself. Unfortunately, she hears it. She stops whatever the hell she is doing, and is by my side in an instant. "My sincerest apologies, I'll ring for assistance. Tea and your new dress will be here right away."

"There's no need, I just need to use the bathroom ." Shit, no, that's what they called it in the romcom I read last week.

"There isn't time to draw you a bath, Miss," she insists.

"Right, yes. Of course. I am still tired. I meant a"— what the fuck is it called here? —"chamberpot."

"Sorry, Miss. One moment."

She retrieves what can only be explained as the fanciest porcelain bowl I've ever seen in my life. Do I squat? Do I hold it? "May I have some privacy?"

Damn, my accent is fucking amazing! Priv-ah-see. Whenever I wake up from this fever dream, I'm forever going to pronounce it this way .

"We must make haste, Miss Anna."

"I'll only be a moment," I assure her, afraid my bladder might explode if I don't use this giant gravy boat soon.

She nods and leaves the room. As soon as I'm done, I'm at a loss for what I'm supposed to do with this glorified piss bucket, so I call for her, "I'm finished!"

The door flings open and three women enter—the woman from before, another with tea, and one with some kind of torture device resembling a corset.

Oh no…

I don't need to explain anything as the woman from earlier takes the piss pot from me and washes my hands like I'm a toddler. Once my hands are dry, the one with the corset approaches and spins me around. I don't have a minute to protest. She wraps it around me, ties it, and sinches it to the point I'm confident she's broken a rib. Since none of this is real, I suffer through the pain, and the other two women prepare a beautiful dress for me. They help me slip it on, and while my waist is the tiniest it's been in a decade, I admire the soft, beautiful blue fabric as my hands slide down.

I would appreciate it more if I could fucking breathe. Whoever invented this torture device should be shot dead.

"It's perfect," one of them coos. I look up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room; my hair is an unruly mess. The women pay no mind and force me onto the chair in front of the vanity. "In ten minutes, you'll be perfect for the prince."

What prince? What book am I in? Surely, she can't mean …

They pull my hair up into a bun at my crown, leaving a few ringlets of my curly hair to frame my face. One of them pinches my cheeks, making me yelp. "Almost done, Miss."

After a few more minutes of primping, I almost don't recognize myself. I want a moment to take it all in, but one of them rushes me out of my seat and towards the doors of the bedroom.

"The tea," I protest, needing something to eat or drink, even if I'm high.

"It'll have to wait, Miss. He'll be here any moment."

"If you insist," I sigh, and follow the women out of the magnificent room.