The Invitation Arrives

Soft rays of morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Vosswell dining hall, bathing the grand table in a gentle glow.

The entire family had gathered for breakfast, with the clinking of silverware against porcelain and hushed conversations between the servants filling the room with a façade of harmony. However, despite these attempts at civility, there was an underlying tension that couldn't be ignored.

It had only been a week since she had woken up as Delphia, and even she couldn't believe that this was how a 'family' behaved towards each other. Screw Nobility, she thought with a light scoff, rolling her eyes at the pretense of it all.

From her own experience, she came from a deeply broken-home but that didn't diminish the bond she had with the people she called 'family.' Delphia sat quietly, sipping her tea. She had spent a week in this new body, maintaining a calm exterior despite the weight of her new reality. Every interaction and glance from her stepfamily felt like a test she had to pass to keep up appearances.

At the head of the table, Duke Easton Vosswell sat in his usual imposing silence, his expression unreadable as he ate. To his right, Duchess Larissa, making quiet comments to Seraphina, who sat beside her, the two of them sharing knowing looks over their delicate pastries. Lucian, seated across from Delphia, appeared disinterested as usual, his focus more on the food in front of him than the company.

Delphia had settled into this routine over the past days, doing her best to play the part expected of her while avoiding any unnecessary confrontations. But the quiet, simmering tension remained. She knew they were watching her, waiting for her to slip back into the old Delphia's volatile habits. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

As she placed her teacup down, the large doors to the dining hall swung open, and the butler entered, carrying a silver tray with a neat stack of letters. He moved with practiced grace, approaching the Duke and bowing slightly as he presented the day's mail.

"Your Grace," the butler said respectfully, holding the stack of letters in front of the Duke.

Duke Vosswell barely glanced up from his plate as he took the letters, sorting through them with a practiced, disinterested hand. For a moment, Delphia's attention drifted, her mind wandering back to the journal she had found, to the locket, to the strange connection she felt growing with the real Delphia—the woman she had never known existed beneath the villainous veneer.

Then, something caught her eye.

The Duke's hand paused over one of the letters, his brow furrowing slightly as he turned it over, inspecting the wax seal. He pulled it free from the stack and broke the seal with a swift motion, unfolding the paper within. His eyes skimmed the contents, and for the first time that morning, a flicker of something—complacency perhaps—crossed his otherwise stern features.

"An invitation," he said finally, placing the letter down on the table. "From Duke Faremont."

Delphia's heart gave a small lurch at the name. Of course, she thought, trying to keep her expression neutral. I'm only weeks away from the Celebration, the invitations need to be sent out as soon as possible. She knew this moment was coming—had been expecting it in fact—the thought gnawing a the back of her head, but hearing it aloud still sent a jolt of reality through her.

At the mention of Duke Faremont, Seraphina's interest was immediately piqued. She straightened in her chair, her eyes lighting up with eager anticipation. "The Faremont celebration? For their daughter, Calista?"

The Duke nodded, sliding the letter a bit in front of him. "The very one. It seems we are all invited to attend the formal introduction of Calista Faremont." Duchess Larissa's smile was cool and practiced, though there was a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "It will be quite the event, I'm sure. The whole of high society will be there."

Seraphina's excitement was palpable. "I've heard so much about Calista," she gushed. "To think, she was raised as a commoner all this time, only to be revealed as the true daughter of Duke Faremont! It's like something out of a fairy tale."

Lucian let out a derisive snort, clearly unimpressed by the idea. "A fairy tale, perhaps, but one that could easily turn into a nightmare. You know how these things go—everyone fawns over the 'new' girl until they find something to gossip about. She'll have her hands full keeping up with Noble expectations."

Seraphina shot him a glare. "You're just jealous because no one's fawning over you."

Delphia kept her eyes trained on her plate, her fingers curling slightly around her teacup. She had known this moment would come, but now that it was here, she couldn't help but feel the weight of it in her chest as she breathed. The Faremont Celebration marked a critical point in The Rose of Avalon; It was the beginning of Act 2, where Calista would officially be introduced to the world of Nobility—and where Delphia's downfall would truly begin.

In the novel, this was the moment when Delphia's jealousy and obsession with the Crown Prince would reach new heights, driving her to make increasingly reckless decisions. It was the beginning of the end for her. And now, she was being invited to attend it. To stand in the same room as Alaric, Calista, and Zypher—the key players in the story she had read. Her fingers clenched imperceptibly around the handle of her teacup. She had no interest in getting tangled up in the romantic drama that was destined to unfold at this celebration.

But, could she really avoid it? Her mind raced, weighing her options.

She knew Calista would be there—radiant, beloved, the center of attention. And Alaric would undoubtedly be fawning over her, just as the novel had portrayed. The thought of it made her stomach twist in annoyance. Alaric Aramore had never been a character she cared for. He had been arrogant, self-entitled, and his melodramatic pursuit of Calista had been grating to read. Now, having to deal with him in person was a prospect she wasn't looking forward to.

But then… then there was Zypher Thorne. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him. Didn't he have some schemes going on at this time? Or was that later in the story, she wondered.

The enigmatic villain who had been the only character she'd genuinely liked in the book. Zypher's cold, calculating demeanor had always intrigued her. She couldn't deny a certain curiosity about seeing him in person—about how he would act, how he would carry himself in this world now that she was no longer a mere reader, but a player on the field.

But, there was danger in that curiosity too.

Zypher, in the novel, had been ruthless—his ambition and schemes had destroyed more than one Noble house. She couldn't afford to let her admiration for the character cloud her judgment. This wasn't just a story anymore. Her life was on the line.

"Delphia," the Duke's voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. His eyes were on her, sharp and assessing. "You'll be attending, of course."

She met his gaze evenly, her heart steadying. "Of course," she replied, her voice calm. "It would be unseemly not to."

Seraphina's lips curled into a smirk. "I wonder what the Crown Prince will think when he sees you. You're choosing a dress with him in mind, right? After all, you two used to be so... close."

Delphia didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she kept her expression neutral, giving a small, detached smile. "I have no doubt the Crown Prince will be far too preoccupied with Calista to notice me." After all, that's how it was written in the story, she thought.

The smirk faltered on Seraphina's face, clearly taken aback by Delphia's lukewarm response. But Delphia held firm. She had no intention of playing into the old Delphia's obsession with Alaric. That path led only to destruction.

The Duke's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing more.

The conversation moved on, with Duchess Larissa and Seraphina discussing the details of the upcoming celebration with increasing excitement. Lucian chimed in occasionally with his usual dry remarks, but Delphia remained quiet, her mind churning with thoughts of the days to come.

She would attend the celebration, yes. But she would not be the 'Delphia' they all expected. She wouldn't get drawn into the web of jealousy, love triangles, and petty rivalries that had consumed the original Delphia.

No. She would remain detached and unemotional. She would navigate the celebration with grace and poise, showing no reaction to the key events that would inevitably unfold. Because this time, she was determined to survive. And she would do whatever it took to change the story's tragic ending.

With a final sip of her tea, Delphia set the cup down and looked at the people around her, her resolve firm. Let the games begin, she thought, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. No one would ever see her coming.