Chapter 1

"Oliver, Oliver get up!" A rough hand shook Jemima's shoulder, shaking her out of her slumber.

"Ugh...what..." Still half asleep, Jemima rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking at her surroundings through bleary vision, details slowly coming into focus. She shook her head in confusion as her mind cleared.

The room couldn't possibly be hers, she must have been dreaming. It was decorated medieval style, all dark colours and patterned tapestries on the walls, unlike Jemima's own bedroom, which boasted modern furniture and light blue walls. She rubbed her eyes again but to no avail, the same sight greeted her once again.

Jemima was lying in a large bed, a boy sitting beside it on a wooden stool, staring down at a small, leather bound book, eyes flickering intently over the pages of writing.

He had dark grey eyes, like a thundercloud before a storm, and blond hair with lighter silver streaks, pale skin, high cheekbones and dark red, full, lips. He was wearing a white collared shirt, smeared with dust and grime, with the top button undone, a necklace with a cross hanging, just visible, tucked between sharp collarbones.

He looked at up Jemima, worry flashing in his gaze, and said, "Finally, Oliver, I thought you would never get up!"

Jemima coughed, confused once more.

"I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but why are you calling me Oliver? My name's Jemi..." Her voice dropped off as she heard her own voice, clearly masculine.

Her hands flew to her throat and then to her face. Unfamiliar skin and features greeted her touch as she felt the smooth skin beneath her fingers.

"Oli, are you ok? You seem to have hit your head harder than I thought." The boy admonished with concern in his voice, and busied himself, fiddling with the blankets around Jemima. Flushing at the prospect of a boy so close to her, she drew back.

"Stop-" Jemima's voice cracked and she tried again. "Stop it, I'm not Oliver-"

He turned his stormy gaze on her and studied her. Being under the scrutiny of those eyes, Jemima squirmed.

"Very funny, Oli. What kind of prank are you trying to pull now?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "There's really no point you know."

Jemima shook her head. "I don't know how I got here and who this Oliver is, but I'm not him!" She exclaimed.

"Oli, this is enough of your jokes."

"I don't know who Oliver is, I'm not him!"

The boy stared at her again. "Well, who else would you be?"

"My- my name's Jemima."

"And tell me, Jemima, where's Oli? Where did you come from? Who really are you?" He fired.

Jemima blinked at the torrent of questions and for a second, she was at a loss as to how to reply.

"Well?" He crossed his arms across his chest and glared at her intensely.

"Well uh- my name's Jemima but I guess you could call me Jem or Jemmy for short. I have no idea where this 'Oli' is but my best guess is that he would be in my body. I came from- uh- I'm not sure actually."

The boy tilted his head curiously at her, hostility all gone.

"I think from another world, or another time, I guess, considering how this room is decorated and how you are dressed. And I have no idea how to respond to the last question."

She paused and looked at him. He opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, but Jemima held up a finger and he shut his mouth.

"Now, I have some questions for you."

A flash of anger crossed the boy's face, quickly replaced by amusement at her tone. "Alright then, Jem." He slightly accented the last word and cast a smirk over in her direction.

Jemima ignored it. She had experience with boys trying to piss her off like that, and she would not take the bait. "So, who are you? Whats your name, where am I, and what is your relationship with this 'Oli' you speak of?" She asked in a pleasant voice, but poisoned underneath.

The boy seemed taken aback at her direct questioning, then quickly regained his mature composure.

"Oscar. My name is Oscar. I'm Oli's best friend. If you're telling me the truth and not just Oli playing tricks on me-" Oscar met Jemima's eyes hopefully, then seemed to deflate at the lack of encouragement.

"And where am I?"

"You're in the King's castle." He paused, searching her face, then continued. "We live in a world that is hopelessly corrupt, and the King is tearing the kingdom apart. No one is sure of anyone else's true loyalties, so it's not wise to trust anyone. Except me of course, I would never betray...you..."

Jemima stared blankly at him. She couldn't figure out a single thing about this boy. One moment he seemed so sure of himself, the next like a little lost boy. She quickly shook her head as she realised Oscar had fallen into silence.

"What's Oli like?"

Oscar brightened immediately. "Oh, Oli is the most kind and caring person I've ever met, but only like that to his family and myself. Even though he acts like he loves and worships the King, he secretly loathes him." Oscar broke off with a growl and pain and anger filled his eyes as he stared at Jemima.

Jemima had a sudden urge to take him into her arms and stroke his hair. Pssh, she thought, as if he'd appreciate that, she laughed to herself. She was so lost in thought, she missed the point when Oscar started speaking again.

"...and then we joined a plot to assassinate the King!"

Jemima started. "You...what?"

Oscar smirked at her. "You never listen, do you?"

Jemima was about to retort when she saw the look in his eyes. It was goading, but at the same time, there was a tinge of sadness in it that made her hesitate. "Go on."

Surprise registered in Oscar's face before he quickly slammed his mask back on and his face was emotionless once more.

"Well, one day, a man approached us, Oli and I, and asked us if we would like to join the plot. Now that I think of it, that man was risking everything to ask us to join." Oscar sighed.

"What do you mean?" Jemima inquired.

"Oli is a Noble. He's deep in the King's pocket, well, at least his family is."

"A- Noble?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."