Transmigrated into the body of a poisoned queen

Yvonne's POV

I paced the length of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to break free.

I couldn't believe what had just happened.

What was she doing here?

It was her. I knew it was. I would never forget that face—my best friend, the first person I had ever loved, and the one who had betrayed me in the worst possible way.

Her smirk still haunted me, the one she wore as I plummeted to my death.

I should have seen it coming.

No, that wasn't true. I hadn't expected this—not from her. I had noticed her drifting away, but I never thought much of it. She was in law school, after all. Things were hectic. That's what I told myself.

But when I wanted to check off cliff climbing from my bucket list, she had seen it as her opportunity. An opportunity I didn't know she had been waiting for. I hadn't even realized her eagerness to go with me was part of her plan.

And now she was here.

But how? Had she somehow ended up in this world the same way I did?

Or… wait.

A chilling thought crept into my mind.

What if this wasn't a medieval world at all?

What if it was all part of her plan?

She was smart enough to orchestrate something like this, but this… this was too much. The people, their actions, the way everything felt so real—could she have paid all these people to act this way?

"Argh!" I groaned, yanking out the elaborate pins holding my hair together. The carefully styled strands tumbled over my shoulders as I flopped onto the floor, my back resting against the bed.

"I don't understand what's going on…"

I had convinced myself that I'd been transported here, but seeing her made me question everything.

Because it was her.

It was her face.

And yet… Christine was twenty-eight.

This Christine looked younger, nineteen, maybe twenty.

How?

I rubbed my hands over my face, and a sharp sting flared across my cheek.

The slap.

I sucked in a breath.

He had raised his hand against me.

I hadn't expected it. And now, as my fingers traced the tender skin, I could almost feel the imprint he had left behind.

And it hurt like hell.

The way my face snapped to the side, it felt like my neck had done a full three-sixty. It was a miracle I wasn't bleeding. But I knew he hadn't even used half his strength, if he had, I'd probably be unconscious.

And he had slapped me because I hit her. That bitch.

But I hit her because I was furious.

Because she deserved it.

"She does," I muttered under my breath.

My gaze dropped to the floor, and that's when I noticed the wet drops splattered across the cold stone.

Tears.

"What the hell?" I swiped at my eyes, but the tears kept falling, hot and unstoppable.

I wiped again. And again.

But they wouldn't stop.

Why?

I knew the slap hurt, but I didn't cry over things like this.

I didn't cry over men.

It wasn't the first time I had been hit by one. My own father had beaten me half to death when I was just eleven. I had survived that. I was tough.

So why was I crying now?

My chest felt heavy, my heart drowning in something I couldn't name.

Thwack.

I slapped my forehead.

"Stop. Stop. Stop crying!"

But the tears kept coming, and I kept hitting myself like I could smack the weakness away.

Then I heard footsteps.

A pair of knees came into view, covered by a plain blue gown, and a gentle hand reached out, stilling mine.

"My lady, I beg you, cease this," a soft voice pleaded.

I blinked up at Klara.

The tears wouldn't stop.

But suddenly, I felt the strangest urge to hug her. To bury myself in her warmth and sob.

Why?

Why did I feel like this?

Like I was overflowing with someone else's emotions.

Could it be…?

Was the real queen still inside me, trapped?

Were these her feelings drowning me?

If that was true… then this world wasn't some elaborate trick.

It was real.

"Please stop crying," Klara whispered.

But as she spoke, I saw the tears streaking her own face.

"Why do you weep?" I asked, my voice unsteady.

She shook her head and gently cupped my cheek, fingers brushing over the burning imprint left by the slap.

"Why did he strike my princess with such force?"

She hesitated, then added, "He ought not to have done so. You bear no blame for this..."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to let those words settle inside me.

But a part of me knew the truth.

I had hit Christine first.

She deserved it, yes, but in this world, wherever this was, I had been the one to strike first.

And for that, I had been punished.

"I'm not weak," I muttered, as if saying it aloud would stop the trembling in my hands.

"Nay, you are not," Klara said, her voice resolute. "But even the strongest hearts may yet shatter."

I sniffled, and a sudden rush of pain surged through my chest, deep, raw, and overwhelming.

It wasn't just mine.

It was something else.

Something buried within me, clawing its way to the surface.

A sob escaped before I could stop it, and I collapsed into Klara's arms.

She held me tightly, her warmth grounding me as my body trembled.

"I am most sorry," she whispered in German, her voice laden with sorrow. "This was never your desire. Yet, choice was never yours to make. You were bound to him… though his heart was sworn to another."

Her words sent another wave of pain crashing through me, sharp and bitter, like grief that wasn't entirely my own.

My fingers dug into the fabric of her dress as I gasped for breath.

I didn't care about the king. I didn't care about his love.

But she did.

The other soul inside me.

The pain wasn't just mine.

It was hers.

Klara's hand traced soothing circles on my back.

"And you… you were never granted the chance to be with the one your heart truly desired. It is a cruel injustice."

My vision blurred, my body swaying.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the aching in my chest.

Then..

A memory flickered to life.

Not mine.

Hers.

The princess, her face streaked with tears, clutching a man in her arms.

Blood pooled beneath them. A sword pierced through his chest.

His hand trembled as he reached for her, his lips forming silent words.

A scream tore from her throat, raw, agonized, heart-wrenching.

Then, darkness.

I gasped, jerking back from Klara as my breath came in shallow, ragged bursts.

What the hell was that?

Who was he?

And why did I feel like my heart had just shattered into a thousand pieces?