So I was hit by a truck and now I’ve become the heroine of the last novel I read. What a joke! Sure, I used to read those fantasy romance novels as an escape from my boring shitty life, but I never wanted to actually escape into one. Not literally.

Anne punched the hallway wall in frustration.

Those goddamn trucks never look where they’re going when they turn left on a busy intersection! Look out for fucking pedestrians, why don’t you?!

“Saintess Anne!” Sister Murial covered her mouth with her hands in shock at the Saintess’ actions. Sister Murial was an older woman with the air of a fussy mother hen and she’d been hovering over Anne all morning.

Internally, Anne rolled her eyes. Externally, Anne tried to plaster a look of kind serenity on her face, with mixed success. “I apologize, sister,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You were distracted all through the morning services,” said Murial, looking so exaggeratedly concerned that Anne could practically see the cartoon sweat drops popping out of her head. “You couldn’t remember the words to even a single prayer. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Seeing her chance, Anne answered. “Actually, I am feeling a little under the weather today. Would it be alright if I returned to my room for the day?”

“Normally at this time of day you’d go walking amongst the peasants, blessing them and listening to their concerns…”

“I’m sure the peasants will still have plenty of concerns tomorrow.”

“Well, if you’re certain. It would be a disaster if you fell seriously ill…” Murial sighed. “I suppose it might be better for you to rest after all.”

“Thank you.” Anne was a few steps away when she turned back around, her smile wooden. “I seem to have become turned around somehow. Silly me! Can you point me back to my room?”

As she stumbled around confusing corridors back to her room, Anne was hyperaware of how inelegant she must look. The Saintess Anne as described in The Foundling’s Wings was graceful, described as gliding through the world. The new Anne didn’t glide. The new Anne trudged, at best. It was all the layers of skirts, and all the goddamn hair. It was heavy and suffocating and in the way all the time.

As soon as Anne got back to her room, she collapsed on the bed.

After she’d gotten over the initial shock of discovering where she was, who she was, she’d started recovering some of her memories. Like her boring life. And the book. And the car accident. But everything was strangely fuzzy. She felt like maybe she had met someone in between—after the accident, but before waking up—but that didn’t make any sense.

She was also struggling to remember the details of The Foundling’s Wings. Something told her she was going to have to use her knowledge of the original novel to get by here. She didn’t particularly have any other skills that could help her survive in a medieval fantasy world. Data entry wasn’t a bankable skill here.

Okay, let’s start from the beginning to keep all the details straight. The main character, Saintess Anne Coris, the role she now occupied, was a foundling discovered by the Church of Coris as a baby (hence the surname.) She’d been raised in the Church, which worshiped The Goddess Coris, and as a young adult it had been discovered that she had the ability to perform miracles. From then on, she’d been appointed to the role of Saintess and become a sort of ambassador for the church.

Wait, I’m not going to have to perform miracles, am I?

“Anne, are you okay!?” A woman burst into the room and Anne jolted upright. The woman looked around the same age as Anne, wearing a cleric’s robes, with shoulder-length red hair and long bangs that almost entirely covered one eye. Her eye that was visible was tearing up.

“Um… I’m alright,” said Anne. “I was just feeling a little unwell so I thought I’d rest for the afternoon. I promise it’s nothing serious, please don’t be mad at—”

The woman enveloped her in a hug. “Oh, my poor, sweet Anne!” said the woman. She hugged Anne’s head to her chest, gently stroking her hair while she spoke. “You’re always working yourself to the bone and then smiling and saying it’s fine when you’re all worn out. Always putting on a strong face. But do not fret, I’ll always be here to take care of you, even when you feel like it’s not worth it to take care of yourself. I’ll make you some soup to help you get your strength back.”

Anne was a bit shocked, but also the hug was surprisingly warm and comforting. Back in her previous life, she had been living alone for many years. It had been so long since anyone had hugged her like this, or offered to take care of her when she wasn’t feeling well. Anne snuggled into the hug and thought, maybe this life won’t be so bad after all.

“Now,” said the woman, holding Anne back at arm’s length. “Before I go get you your soup, there’s something we need to discuss.”

Anne felt a small pang of loss at the end of the hug, but ignored it. “Yes, what is it?”

“You’ve been invited to the Summer Ball,” said the woman, seriously. “And I need you to find us some allies while you’re there.”

Suddenly Anne’s memory pinged and she realized exactly who this woman was.

Sister Eva Coris. Another church foundling, an old friend of Anne’s, and the strategic leader of the rebellion.

And the Summer Ball… the Summer Ball was when Saintess Anne first met the Grand Duke Marshal and Lady Corvina.

Meanwhile, in the imperial palace, a woman stood at the top of the grand staircase, watching all the couples spin around the ballroom like intricate clockwork. To those lacking the proper skill, the movement seemed random, mysterious, maybe even magical. Cogs spun and things happened, and who knew how any of it was connected? But a master watchmaker could see how all of it worked and, with a small adjustment to the cogs, change everything.

The herald opened his mouth to shout. “Her Highness Lady Corvina Wyernmal!”

Lady Corvina smiled a dazzling smile, and swept down the stairs to adjust the cogs.