Fermina did not release her hold, nor should she have. The sensation of a fully functioning respiratory system was foreign to me, and my voice emerged in halting, coarse whispers. Standing upright on two whole legs was an entirely new experience. I towered over Princess in life, and her form felt utterly alien, like an awkward garment. Navigating it required focus—each step forward a conscentious act, while simultaneously directing her head and blinking her eyes to discern the world around me.

  “Aufelia, what is wrong? Are your legs in pain?” Fermina asked, her voice tender with concern.

  “I simply require some rest, dear sister. It has been a taxing day,” I replied, clearer than ever before.

  “You don’t sound like yourself,” Rascal remarked from behind Princess—behind me, that is.

  Gradually, the court, guests, and servants began to disperse, even the physicians departed, realizing their services were no longer needed. My brother—if I could still call him so in this body—left after a brief confirmation that this was no emergency. Soon, I found myself in the company of Princess’s sisters and the Magister, all of them waiting patiently as I attempted to gather my strength—strength I had from the beginning but did not yet know how to wield.

  I was not accustomed to such vigor. My legs, strong and capable, bore my weight effortlessly, a sensation entirely unfamiliar. My breath flowed freely, my lungs expanding and contracting without fear of a coughing fit, and for the first time, I could breathe through my nose rather than my mouth. My voice, now clear, would require practice to imitate what Princess once sounded like. Despite the confusion brought about by this strange occurrence, the world, in all other aspects, seemed… wonderful. I chocked back tears.

  I spoke little, avoiding suspicion, as I swiftly learned to walk—not just any walk, but the graceful stride befitting a Lady, especially when adorned in a dress. Fermina and Rascal led me to our room, seating me on Princess’s bed. Concerned, they questioned me relentlessly about my well-being, but I insisted, time and again, that rest was all I required.

  Once alone, after they had taken my coat, gloves, and shoes, I waited until their footsteps faded into the distance. Then, I leapt from the bed—yes, leapt! I stumbled slightly upon landing, yet even that brought a strange joy. Laughter bubbled from within me as I reveled in the exhilaration of having a body that truly functioned. I paced the room, bemused but not displeased by this wondrous transformation. I studied my hands—no longer knotted, scarred, or gnarled, but delicate and graceful. Each slender finger obeyed my command, and with ease, I surpassed the limits my former body had imposed upon me.

  I ran—ran!—to lock the door and returned to the full-length mirror, Princess’s mirror—my mirror; I was the Princess now. I examined myself, captivated by the sight. A beautifully symmetrical face, with bright blue eyes, long lashes, and a straight nose! How splendid it was to have a set of white, even teeth, unmarred by decay. The softness of my hair, the smoothness of my skin beneath my fingers, and the charm of the expressions I could craft with my new face—each movement of muscle felt like a miracle under my control.

  I lifted my skirts, revealing legs of ivory white. I chuckled with delight upon seeing them—these sturdy, perfectly formed appendages, a far cry from my former state. No missing foot, no cumbersome prosthesis, no reliance on a cane! I felt whole, human, at last. Despite myself, I indulged in a small dance, entranced by the fluidity of movement these legs allowed.

  A thought crossed my mind, and I found no reason not to entertain it. Should I not inspect this new body with greater scrutiny? To do so would require undressing, and so I set about removing Princess’s evening attire—a labyrinth of layers and fastenings. My hands reached for the ties at the back of her dress, blindly working to free myself, leaning into the mirror.

  “Stop! Stop! I AM TELLING YOU TO STOOOOOP!”

  A voice screamed from somewhere indiscernible. I heard it clearly, though it was no physical presence. Instantly, I recognized it.

  “Princess?” I questioned aloud, astonished by the relentless surprises this strange possession had wrought.

  “You can finally hear me?” the voice pleaded in desperation. “Please tell me you can hear me!”

  My hands froze, guilt swelling within. Caught in such a compromising position, there was no denying what I had been attempting. The ties at the back of my, or rather, her dress, slipped loose under her fingers. I ought not to claim ownership of what was not mine. “I hear you. Can you see what is happening? Hear it?” I inquired.

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  “Yes! I can see, hear, and feel everything! But what is happening?” Princess cried, her voice laced with the same bewilderment I had felt earlier. She was a helpless passenger in her own body, forced to endure this violation. “Who are you? Why are you controlling my body when I can’t?” Her fear, anger, and confusion were almost a physical manifestation, as if I could share them with her.

  “I am uncertain myself,” I confessed. “I was about to uncover the answer through… further exploration.”

  “Oh, I saw that!” she retorted, her tone both accusatory and mortified. “I don’t care who you are! Don’t undress me without my permission! And give me back my body!”

  “I cannot. Quite literally, I lack the means to do so,” I explained, hoping to quell her rising panic. First, we needed to conduct a few tests. Turning away from the mirror, I asked, “Now, tell me—where is our right hand located? Do you share in the sensation of touch?”

  Silence followed. The voice, once so frantic, had suddenly gone quiet, though I sensed she was trying to communicate.

  “Uh, beg your pardon? Could you say that once more?” I requested.

  Still nothing. Puzzled by her abrupt silence, I turned back toward the mirror.

  “On my ass! On my ass! On my ass!” she ‘screamed’ inside my head, nearly deafening me with her repeated cries.

  Startled, I released her hip and recoiled from the mirror. I paced the room, turning toward the reflective surface, then away again, and soon discovered an intriguing rule governing our strange predicament.

  “If I may,” I asked first since the Princess in my head kept yelling, “it seems I can only hear you when I am peering directly into a mirror. Otherwise, I am afraid you are wasting your… breath or equivalent. You are not an idiot. I am certain you understand what I mean, Princess.”

  Crossing to the other side of the bed, I seated myself before the vanity mirror. Each sister possessed a full-length one, though there was only one shared desk. Seated as I was, the reflection showed only my upper half, but it was broader, allowing for better observation.

  “I recognize that tone,” Princess hissed, her anger barely contained. “I would know that pompous, arrogant, prissy little tone anywhere, even in my voice! And hardly anyone else calls me ‘Princess’. Dubart, is that you, you vile freak? Did you steal my body with your forbidden arts, you wretched maverick? Tired of being a cripple with one foot in the grave? Is this how you repay me for all I have…?” Her voice broke, teetering on the edge of tears, which were forming behind our eyes.

  “Calm yourself, Princess. I did not orchestrate this occurrence intentionally, and I suspect you brought this upon yourself,” I confessed. It was, indeed, as she suspected. My pet name for dear Riatna—whom I fondly referred to as ‘Rascal’—was known far and wide. Conversely, few dared to call Aufelia ‘Princess’s, for to bestow such a lofty title, even in jest, could be maliciously misinterpreted as, technically, treason.

  “You dare blame me for this!? How could this possibly be my fault, O Lord of cripples?”

  “I am a cripple no longer,” I reminded her. “That body has perished, reduced to mere decaying flesh. I performed a theurgic ritual that enabled me to sever my soul from that accursed prison. My intent was to become an ethereal being, nearly invisible, composed of smoke and pure life energy. The next phase… well, never mind that,” I withheld, for she was not prepared to hear the true depths of my plan, though it mattered little now. “I failed, and my soul became trapped within a crystal. Do you recall it, Princess? A blue gem, cushion-shaped, gleaming brightly?” I paused for emphasis.

  “You… you don’t mean…?” she stammered, guilt creeping into her voice.

  “But I do,” I replied sharply, crossing her arms before the mirror and frowning sternly, making my displeasure clear. “I knew the risks of my experiment, Princess. I was prepared to face the consequences. That crystal would have eventually vanished, and with it, my existence. I never anticipated that you, of all people, would pilfer from your dead Master. Imagine my surprise when proximity to you somehow allowed my soul to inhabit your body.”

  “No! No! No! Dubart, this can’t be happening!” she fretted in despair. “You can’t take over my body! You can’t! You have to give it back…” and broke into the equivalent of crying inside one’s mind.

  “Indeed, I shall return it, you little thief,” I sighed. Though the exhilaration of having a healthy body had been intoxicating, it remained hers. I could not condemn the girl to either living on the backseat of her own flesh or vanishing into non-existence. “I just do not really know how to… yet.”

  “You’re telling me the truth, right? You’re not trying to trick me, are you?” she begged in a desperate bargain. “This really happened as an accident, and you didn’t plan to take over my body from the start, did you?”

  “I promise in the name of my father,” I raised her arm in the signal of an oath. “Come; let us go to the library,” I announced in consideration since she could do nothing to stop me or had other means to know where I was heading. “You have a hand mirror in your room, I would assume? It would be wise to tell me where it is. Also, and I realize this may be… awkward, but it must be said.” I cleared my… our throat. “What I was doing in front of the mirror… I-I do not know what came over me. I apologize.”

  “It was no secret to anyone that you’ve always been a huge pervert,” she drily insulted. “I’m not even surprised. Now retie that dress, put everything back as it was, and keep my hands where I can see them!”

  “Y-yes, of course,” I humbly obeyed, feeling the healthy face I was now wearing flush with blood.

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