"All done," the nurse said, her voice soothing as she examined Anne-Marie's chest one last time. "I don't think you have anything to be scared of. The coffee wasn't hot enough to leave a scar. Your burn should heal within forty-eight hours."

Aubrey let out a deep, relieved breath, followed by Noa, who visibly relaxed as well. The nurse's words seemed to lift a weight off their shoulders, a weight Anne-Marie hadn't realized they'd been carrying.

For most girls in Breton, especially those in their social circles, the thought of a scar was a nightmare—something to be avoided at all costs. Anne-Marie never quite understood the big deal, the near-obsessive fear they had about scars. She had always found scars to be stories etched on the body, not something to hide or be ashamed of. Her own body bore a few from stunts and bike accidents, mementos of a life lived boldly, and she'd never considered them flaws. But Aubrey and Noa had insisted on visiting the infirmary, their concern palpable, and so she'd gone along with it. Watching them now, she could see how much they had worried, how scared they were on her behalf.

The nurse stood up from the chair beside the bed and walked over to a cabinet, giving Anne-Marie a moment to pull her shirt back down, carefully ensuring that the scar from her appendix operation remained hidden. She couldn't afford for anyone to see that—not now, not ever. Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched the nurse return with a small tube of ointment.

"Just apply this around the affected area every two hours," the nurse instructed, handing her the ointment. "You'll be good as new in no time."

Anne-Marie took the small package, though she couldn't help but wonder if it was all really necessary. The thought of scars had never bothered her, but in this world, in Paris's world, everything was different. Everything was scrutinized.

"Phew," Aubrey breathed out, relief washing over her face. "Thank goodness it's not going to scar."

"You've been careful all your life, Pee," Noa added, a note of admiration in her voice. "Besides the gunshot wound, you can't afford to get a scar before the royal wedding."

"Royal wedding? You mean before the royal engagement," Aubrey corrected, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Anne-Marie could only nod, absorbing the weight of their words. She was aware that the laws of Breton were strict, especially when it came to the future queen's physical condition. The process of selecting a queen was rigorous, almost inhumane. Candidates were judged on every possible criterion: family background, use of drug history, education, mental health, fertility, genetic diseases and deformities, and, of course, physical appearance. And let's not forget the most invasive of them all—the purity check, the test to know if the future princess was still chaste, pure in body and mind and untouched by anyone or in other words, man. The position of queen was of paramount importance, and the selection process was the most grueling in the world. Paris had passed all those tests with flying colors, earning a perfect score in every category.

Anne-Marie turned to the nurse, offering her a grateful smile.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice steady, despite the turmoil within. Then she turned to Aubrey and Noa, trying to refocus herself. "I think we should head to class now. We can't afford to miss first period, I don't want anyone, especially the prince to think I'm using my accident as an excuse to skip class."

Noa scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

"Like he's going to notice, It's not like he attends the same classes as us."

Anne-Marie blinked, surprised.

"He doesn't?"

Noa raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by Anne-Marie's reaction. "You act like you don't know the prince and the rest of the circle have their own classroom," she said, a hint of disbelief in her tone. "Why are you even worried about right now?"

Aubrey chimed in, her tone more understanding.

"They also have their own cafeteria and playroom too. Noa's right, the prince should be the least of your concerns right now. Surviving the rest of the day should be."

Anne-Marie forced herself to nod along, though her mind was spinning. The crown's circle had their own classroom, their own world within the school. Of course they did. She'd have to adjust her expectations—nothing here was as straightforward as it seemed.

Anne-Marie let out a weak breath as she zoomed out of her thought that had taken her farther down memory lane, all thanks to the really loud voice teaching the rest of the classroom in front of her. She found herself drawing her gaze towards the window. Her gaze was drawn to the window, where the Infinity Block—the Circle's building—loomed in the distance.

Just looking at it, Anne-Marie could only imagine how different it was inside, how royal. Aubrey had mentioned that the trio even had their own teachers, everything catered specifically to them. What must it be like to live in that world, so separate from everyone else? She kept her focus on the window, as if staring hard enough might give her a glimpse inside.

Behind her, Noa slouched in her chair, her eyes never leaving Anne-Marie. She tapped her pen lightly on the desk, a subtle rhythm that betrayed her thoughts. There was something about Anne-Marie, something that didn't quite add up. Every day, she seemed different, off somehow, not quite the Paris they knew.

"Stop staring at her like that, Noa," Aubrey whispered, her eyes still on the teacher as she feigned concentration. "You're going to bore a hole through her skull at this point."

Noa gave it a few more seconds, then sighed, turning to Aubrey. She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"You see it too, don't you?" she asked. "She's changed, hasn't she? She's different from the Paris we used to know."

"Of course she's different," Aubrey replied, her voice still low. "She just cheated death, literally. Anyone would be different after that."

Noa wasn't convinced.
"She forgave that girl who spilled coffee on her earlier and even apologized, The Paris we know would never do that, not in a million years. She talks less, smiles more. She even let me eat whatever I wanted for a whole week without reminding me about my tendencies to get fat ."

Aubrey finally turned to Noa, her expression softening.

"She's probably going through a lot right now. We should be there for her, not doubting her sanity. It's obvious her memories are still scattered, we should cut her some slack and enjoy this side of her while we can."

Noa exhaled deeply, still feeling uneasy but knowing Aubrey was right. Maybe Anne-Marie just needed more time, more space to recover and piece herself back together. With a final glance at Anne-Marie, Noa slouched back in her chair, trying to shake off her unease.

The loud ringing of the school bell snapped them all back to reality.

"Okay, everyone," the teacher announced, her voice cutting through the murmur of the class. "That's all for today. Don't forget to turn in your assignments in two days."

"Yes, Miss Sonya," the class chorused as they began to pack up their things. Anne-Marie looked around, trying to gauge what was next. She was still struggling to find her rhythm, still adjusting to the world of the Royal Academy. Nothing here was ordinary, not the classes, not the students, not even the way they transitioned from one period to the next.

As she shut her ipad , Aubrey and Noa were already at her side.

"You ready?" Aubrey asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

"R-ready?" Anne-Marie stammered, hoping they wouldn't notice her hesitation.

"Swimming class," Aubrey reminded her, her tone playful.

Swimming class? Of course, they had a swimming class. Anne-Marie knew about the drama and music classes, the fencing and martial arts, even the regular art classes. But swimming? That was news to her.

"You know it's one of the few classes we have with the C3," Aubrey continued. Anne-Marie narrowed her gaze on them, wondering if they were talking about the circle "It's also your favorite class—"

"M-my favourite class?" Anne-Marie echoed, trying to hide her growing dread.

"Mnn," Aubrey confirmed with a nod.

"You don't remember?" Noa asked, her voice tinged with concern. "You're the best swimmer at the Royal Academy. You've represented us in so many competitions and won countless awards, years ago before the selection of course."

"Everyone's been looking forward to seeing you swim again," Aubrey added, her excitement palpable. "I can't wait to see the look on valerie's face when she sees you back in action."

"Oh," Anne-Marie whispered, her voice barely audible.

How convenient, she thought bitterly. A chuckle slipped out, but it was weak, strained. Their words echoed in her mind—medals, banners, the star of every swimming class. It was all so perfectly Paris, of course, the girl had to be the best at everything. But Anne-Marie knew she was in deep trouble now. How had she not anticipated this?

She didn't know how to swim. Not even a little.

She was doomed.