“Lady Piggott,” she corrected. “Have we met before?” Ellie squinted her eyes, suspicious.

  In contrast to the dancers inside, who were dressed for the season, Ellie’s ruby red dress stood out like a thumb. She was ahead of her time, quite literally since Max remembered her designing this particular dress later in life. The top half of the dress was considerably different for the era, with a sweeping and thick looking fabric piling around her chest area and creating two long sleeves. A stark contrast to the current fashion inspired by classical Greek art. Compared to her bold clothing choices and personality, her appearance was a little plain. Tied up and secured brown hair, soft brown eyes, a few freckles across her nose; her body didn’t suit her.

  “At some point.” Max looked at the paper clutched in her gloved left hand. He didn’t need to read it to know it was a marriage license she had forged. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

  Original Ellie would have stubbornly committed to her plans, following her story. The goal was simple, help Ellie with her dreams of building financial freedom. Dream Ellie wasn’t quite the same. Perhaps it was because they spent so much time together, or maybe it was because Max couldn’t remember the early days clearly anymore because of the substances he had been taking. “It’s not?”

  “I’ll still sign it for you,” Max held out his own gloved hand. When they had first met, under this gazebo, Ellie had made a bold proposal to a drunken Max. Her plan was simple. Marry a wealthy but controllable deadbeat, take control over his estate, ensure there were no heirs to challenge her inheritance, and then stand idly by or actively encourage habits until she gained freedom as a wealthy widow. The body, which Max woke up in, was a key player in her plan.

  “You seem to know a lot.” Without hesitation, Ellie began ripping up the forged document in front of him with a dramatic flair. With every strip of paper she made, she placed it delicately on to Max’s outstretched hand. “Far too much. What else do you know?”

  He pocketed the strips. “Your family is broke.” Max’s words were harsh and to the point, but Ellie didn’t show any feelings towards them. “Your father, Lord Piggott, is planning on marrying you, Lady Elenor Piggott, to Lord Bickham, who has quite a reputation.”

  “Oh my,” Ellie played along, as if they were gossiping about someone else. “What kind of a reputation?”

  “Lying, gambling, seducing; I heard he already has a string of bastards.” Completely true, Max had to meet a few of them over the course of the story. All of them were as deeply offensive as their father. “Marrying someone like that would mean begging for the rest of your life.”

  “Which will not do,” Ellie agreed. There was something slightly off about Ellie’s movements. She always feigned confidence until later, but her stance was too much for this time in her life. The dream must be using a muddle of memories to create the fake Ellie. Regardless, Max enjoyed playing along.

  “So, you’re looking for an alternative marr-”

  “But I’m blocked by the Clandestine Marriages Act,” Ellie interrupted. “I’m not twenty-one yet, so I need my father’s permission yada yada. You seem to already know everything. How did you know the license was a forgery?”

  “I didn’t get a proper look, but I have no doubt the clergyman will realise it’s fake if you submit it to your family’s church.” There was an ah-ha moment clear on her face. If only she had realised in the last life too, it would have saved them so much trouble. “If you’re so eager to marry we can always go north-”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “To the Northern Isles? Where the marriages act doesn’t apply?” Ellie scoffed at the idea. Her reaction was a surprise. It was what they ended up doing in the end. “People would only question the validity.”

  “I suppose they would,” Max thought about it. When they got married last time, they had already been through so much socially that no one even questioned their decision. “Perhaps if we gave you father some gifts-”

  “No chance in hell,” Ellie didn’t hesitate. “I want that man destitute by the time he crosses over to the other side.” Max merely smiled at the answer. It was the same one the real Ellie gave when he pitched the idea. Ellie thought for a second before quickly curtseying, causing Max’s smile to drop. Before he could speak, she took off back to the mansion as she said, “Pardon, I believe I was interrupting something. Forget this.”

  “Wait a second-” Max was about to chase when there was a sudden noise. It was… a gunshot? Maybe? And more importantly, not one originating from his memories. There was never a time a shot rang out in the real version of these gardens.

  Torn, Max decided to go look for the others. It was nice to see a fake Ellie again, but nothing can compare to the real thing.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Max asked in disbelief, as he tried to take in the situation in front of him. Perhaps he had been wrong about his initial impressions of BB. Maybe she wasn’t a romantic guru but a freaking psychopath.

  “Shh,” Cy hushed at him before pulling him into the bushes. After checking that the shaking Jacquotte didn’t notice them, Cy relaxed as he resumed rubbing his eyes. “They’re having a moment.”

  ‘Their moment’ was BB pointing her pistol at a tearful Jacquotte, who was shivering in the fountain while wearing nothing but her nightgown. “If you think something like this is romantic then you’re a scary-”

  “Shh,” Cy hissed again while gesturing for Max to watch.

  “Got him,” BB exclaimed victoriously, as she boldly gestured over to the shadows. Did Cy conjure something in the dream for BB to rescue Jacquotte from? Possible. It would be difficult for Cy to interfere with the world and the inhabitants since it was based on Max’s mind… Unless she was just pretending there was someone there?

  “Here, let me help you up,” BB effortlessly helped a drenched Jacquotte out of the fountain she had been pushed into for her own ‘safety.’ With her blonde hair loosely braided, the top of her head covered by a nightcap, and wearing a damp nightgown clinging to her skin, Jacquotte was clearly out of place for the environment. She must be confused. It must be scary. BB must have realised, as she tried to comfort her, “Sorry, it must’ve be-”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Jacquotte didn’t hesitate to shove BB out of the way. Her rant was fuelled with emotion, and it was completely justifiable. “Pulling out a goddamn pistol-”

  “I was trying to save you!”

  “From nothing!”

  “There was someone!”

  “Probably a partygoer!” Jacquotte gestured to the mansion, where the music was spewing out of. “Which makes you a murderer!”

  As they watched the women squabble, Max finally asked Cy, “… Have we made a mistake?” This was already far too toxic to ever be healthy. Maybe they were wrong with encouraging BB to find love.

  “I don’t know,” Cy admitted, as he rubbed his eyes again.

  “Well, is it working? Is her fate changing?”

  “I don’t know.” Cy said again. There was something different about his tone. It took Max a moment to catch on.

  “You can’t see?” Max had just presumed Cy’s ability would continue as normal within the dream space. “Can you see any of our fates at all?”

  Cy squinted at Max before giving up. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?... Have you ever seen the world… plainly? Like without fates hovering around people.”

  “No.”

  “So, this is the first time?” Cy merely nodded before repositioning himself, so BB and Jacquotte’s fight can stay in his field of view. “I thought you said you’ve tried this before. Why didn’t you mention going blind?”

  “I’m not blind! I just can’t see fates right now,” he tutted. “When I tried this before, my own thoughts were the host.” So, was there an opposite effect?

  “… Do you want to stop?”

  “I don’t think they’re in love yet.” Cy pointed at the couple during the exact moment Jacquotte tore the sleeve off BB’s dress and damaged the bodice. All that stitching, gone in seconds. At first, BB clung to modesty before embracing the look like the Goddess of Liberty.

  “No, but if you’re having trouble-”

  “I’ll manage,” Cy quickly dismissed, as Jacquotte lunged at BB’s clothes again. Now that she found a weakness, it seemed like the merchant’s daughter was trying to take advantage of the situation by embarrassing the other. BB looked thrilled. Perhaps she considered this a kind of foreplay?

  “What the fuck is going on?”