Page 9 of The Fifth Life of Alicia
In the end, Kalon was also destined to die. After Alicia’s execution and Torin and Lillia’s wedding, he went mad, having lost almost everything at the hands of his younger brother. The woman he loved, his wife, and the important connection with the Vermillion family, given that the marquess blamed Kalon’s actions for Alicia’s death.
It might have been the only time in the book that the marquess was ever shown to care about his daughter.
Like his wife, Kalon would lose his head. But his charge was for treason after he was found to be planning to kill his father and brother and take over the empire. I’d been so incensed by his death that I’d almost thrown my Kindle at the wall and smashed it. It’d felt like a cheap way to get him out of the love triangle to wrap up the story, like his death was the only way to cut the ties between him and Lillia.
I tapped my fingers against the desk.
I’d already resolved to change my fate.
If I changed Alicia’s destiny, did that mean Kalon’s fate would change, too?
And what would happen to everyone else?
Chapter Two
To Hunt A Husband
“My lady, are you sure you’re well enough to undertake a visit to the town?” Bella fussed over my hair, anxiety written across her freckled face. “It’s only been ten days since you woke up, and you were unconscious for two weeks.”
“I’m sure, Bella. Besides, you’ll be with me, won’t you?” I smiled at her in the mirror.
I still wasn’t used to my new appearance. In my past life, I’d had short blonde hair that barely skimmed my shoulders, brown eyes, and a passable face, alongside a relatively regular physique. You know the type; could lose a few pounds but gaining a few wasn’t the end of the world, worked out religiously for two weeks then didn’t touch a dumbbell for a month kinda girl.
All right. Three months. Whatever.
In this life, I had emerald-green eyes, long, golden brown hair, and the kind of face that would stop traffic, plus—and excuse me for saying it like this—one hell of a banging body.
It was a fantasy novel, after all.
I couldn’t say I was mad about it. I’d always wanted to try dying my hair darker, and having supermodel level looks would only help me in my quest to find a husband.
That’s right.
I was officially on the hunt for a husband.
I’d agonised over it for the last three days, but it was the only solution I’d come up with. If I was married or even engaged to someone else, then my father would have a difficult time agreeing to Grand Duke Kalon’s proposal. Although there was a chance that he could demand I marry him instead thanks to his high rank, my father could also offer my half-sister’s hand in marriage to fulfil the business deal.
I had yet to see Sophia since waking up, but the memories that had been left behind meant I had no love for my younger sister. In fact, I’d relish the chance to send her to the bitterly cold Stein with Kalon instead.
Let her freeze her murderous little butt off in my place.
“Are you sure everyone is out, Bella?” I asked, pausing at my bedroom door and peeking out.
She nodded. “Yes, my lady. The marquess is at the palace, the marchioness is at Duchess Trelawney’s tea party with Lady Sophia, and aside from Lord Edward who is still away at school, Lord Vincent and Lord Michael are at the knightage.”
Right. Edward was the youngest of us all at fourteen and had an aptitude for magic, so he was studying at the academy run by the Magic Tower. Sophia did next to nothing with her days except shop, gossip, and sup tea on her way up the social ladder, and my brothers Vincent and Michael were both knights in the royal order, although Vincent would soon leave to work with Father on the family business before he inherited the title.
This was my chance to get out and get back before they all did.
Not that running into Vincent would be all that bad. He was the only one of my four half-siblings who was nice to me, and that was probably because he was the heir. We were both different.
“Then let’s go!” I grinned at Bella and skipped out of my room, grabbing my skirt as I did so. I still wasn’t used to the manner of dressing here, but my thanks went to the author for having the fashion not be completely conservative.
Ankles weren’t considered sexy here, thank God.
There was no way I’d survive wearing floor-length dresses twenty-four-seven.
The previous soul had clearly felt the same way, given that a good portion of my wardrobe was fitted out with knee and midi-length dresses and skirts.
