Tinea woke slowly to the sound of running water. It smelled like lavender and thyme, and she remembered this scent. It was the scent of her bedroom at the summer residence, which meant hell was about to start all over again. She didn’t open her eyes. She simply curled up under the plush covers, breathing slowly and evenly. If she opened her eyes, it would all be real. And she didn’t want it to be real.

Her pink eyes blinked open. She couldn’t put it off forever, after all. She stared out the balcony doors. The curtains had been opened to let in the light, and someone had opened the doors to let in the scent from the garden. A light breeze was blowing through, and she breathed in slowly and let it out. So. She was back at the summer estate. Her father had probably abandoned here again with Countess Amalia, and she was not looking forward to the riding crop.

“My lady?” came a gentle voice. Fran. Tinea sat up in bed and stared at the only woman that had ever shown her any kindness, besides Samantha.

“Hello,” she said, and Fran bustled over to throw off the covers.

“Let’s get you bathed, my lady,” she said and grasped Tinea’s filthy hands with her overgrown nails and cuticles. “May I ask your name?”

“Tinea Bellator,” Tinea replied, and the woman beamed at her.

“Excellent. I will inform the head butler,” she said and bustled towards the door. “You go ahead and get undressed for the bath. I’ll be right back in to attend to you.”

Tinea slipped out of bed and made her slow way to the bathroom, feeling unhinged and more than a little scared. In her previous lives, she had died again and again, and now she was here. She didn’t know why she was here. It was unfair, unjust, and she just wanted to rest. What kind of sick game were the gods playing with her? She didn’t know.

She did not know.

Slowly, she dropped her smock and shift and climbed into the bath with sunflowers floating on the top of it. She sank down in the water and stared blankly at the wall. At least she had Fran again. Fran died of an illness when she was eighteen, just before her execution. Every time, she died, and Tinea never found out what was wrong with her. She had always been kind and gentle with Tinea. Always.

Tinea was going to have to do her best not to get hit by Countess Amalia this time. Mostly because Lord Father always ordered a carriage accident when he found out, and she’d rather not Countess Amalia get killed over something like that.

The bathroom door opened, and in stepped Fran, looking happy as could be.

“Hello, my lady,” she said as she made her way over to Tinea. “Please let me get your hair wet.”

Tinea dunked her hair under the water and Fran poured out shampoo on it. She started to scrub it clean, lathering up her hair and massaging it in to her head. It was nice. Fran always gave the best head massages. Tinea missed her. She didn’t deserve to die.

Tinea felt a little out of her own skin, if she was being honest. Like she wasn’t a real person. She had been regressed to the age of five this time, and she knew she was doomed to die at the age of eighteen. It happened every time.

Her first life, she had deserved it. Mostly. She was engaged to the future Marquis of Dundlan, and she had caught him canoodling with the Oracle. Back then, she had been just a child. She had lost her damn mind. Instead of gracefully accepting her defeat, she had tried to poison the Oracle in retaliation, knowing full well Adrius had no intentions of marrying her. No, he was too much of a coward for that. He would never go against his family. She poisoned her, was caught and executed for the crime, and her family turned their backs on her.

It wasn’t that she loved Adrius. She didn’t. Adrius was… It was her position. It was already tenuous as an illegitimate child, and she knew her duty. She was desperate to not lose it all. She was just a scared girl, desperately trying to protect her dignity. The Oracle had been a menace to her, and she was just…

She thought she learned her lesson in her second life. She caught them, calmly called off the engagement, and walked away. But, then, the Oracle was poisoned anyway, and she was named the culprit. Executed. Again. She thought it was a fluke by the third life, when she was regressed to the age of five. She mastered magic in that life, in a desperate attempt to protect herself, but it was all for naught. She was executed yet again, and by the fourth life…

Well.

Her fourth life was not her best moment, she thought. Maybe she was still in shock from how it ended. She had deserved it that time, too. She…

She was just so tired.

Fran was still massaging her head, and then she spoke slowly.

“I’ll have to wash it again, my lady. Please get your hair under the water,” she said, and Tinea sunk down under the water, holding her breath and feeling lightheaded. She stayed under for a solid five seconds before she resurfaced, and Fran dumped more shampoo on her head. “Honestly, the conditions they kept you in.”

“It’s fine,” Tinea said numbly, and Fran scratched at her scalp with renewed vigor.

“Honestly, that orphanage, my word…” she said. “Why take in children if you’re not going to take care of them?”

Oh… That was the story. Tinea was at an orphanage, not a human trafficking front. Alright, then. Tinea supposed she couldn’t complain, because if it got out in high society that she was a human trafficking victim, they would not look on her kindly. Better that it remained that it was an orphanage. She was already a victim of illegitimacy.

“Alright, my lady, please dunk your hair again,” Fran said, and Tinea slipped down under the water. The suds foamed out, and Fran worked in conditioner to make her hair shine. Then, she gestured for Tinea to stand, and Tinea did. The woman started to scrub her down, cleaning under her nails and cleaning her thoroughly, washing away all of the grime before she started to drain the tub. The water circled around the drain, and Tinea waited for it to empty.

“Now, let’s fill up this tub again and get you really clean,” Fran said, and Tinea stared at her with dull eyes. She was going to run away. That was the only option here. She knew it would be chaos when her father returned to the summer estate, so she would bide her time until then and flee then. She knew of a horse in the stable, Molly, that was perfect for it. She would have to be quick and merciless.

Fran scrubbed Tinea down with firm motions, making sure to clean her from head to toe. Tinea bore through it with a grim face, and then she was dressed in a clean pink dress. Fran sat her down and started to painstakingly work through the mats in her hair, and Tinea bore it all with a stiff upper lip and unfocused eyes. She felt a little out of her own skin, like she needed to crawl out of it and settle down in the existence surrounding her.

She’d been like this ever since she was regressed yet again. She was tired of all of this, and willing to let anything happen to her. If she was fated to die again and again, no matter what she did, let it be so. Delfina won.

Delfina…

Tinea thought back to that pernicious woman. She was a vicious, vicious woman, putting up a gentle front of sweetness and smiles, like a breath of springtime. Tinea had no idea why Delfina hated her, why she poisoned herself again and again just to frame Tinea for the deed. In every life, it was exactly the same. And Tinea was sick of it. She was sick of it. Delfina walked through the world without a care. It was around this time that she would be found by the church. She was the great Oracle, the voice of the gods, and Tinea wanted to take that pretty, slim neck and snap it between her hands.

She had already killed her once.

She could do it again.

It might be easier that way, but then the House of Inistor would risk war with the church. And Tinea had to be aware of her position here. Soon, she would be promised to that lout, Adrius. They would be engaged to be married, and she would have to deal with his chronic womanizing and blatant disdain for her as an illegitimate daughter. Never mind how hard she trained to be a woman worth loving, the blood, sweat, and tears she put into her education, the way she lost her damn mind in her comportment and composure. She had been perfect, and he simply did not care.

Bastard men.

Who needed them?

Not her.

Fran hit a particularly rough snag, and Tinea winced. Fran murmured an apology, and Tinea abruptly decided she would do absolutely nothing in this life. She would do nothing, and let Delfina come to her. She had given up. Delfina was hellbent on seeing her suffer, and Tinea didn’t know why, nor did she care. She would just do whatever the hell she wanted this time, and if Delfina had a problem with that, well. Tinea just didn’t care.

Delfina wanted her to be a villain so bad. Tinea would show her a villain.

Then again, she had shown Delfina her villainy in her past life, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to beat her at her own game. She was just going to enjoy these short eight years before she was inevitably put to death.

And that included running away. She was sure Delfina would find a way to drag her back, but in the meantime, she would just enjoy herself. She had always preferred being a street rat to being the daughter of the marquis. It was free in a way she wasn’t in this house. Of course, her family would find her immediately, but she could give them a heart attack for a few days and make it as far as she possibly could make it.

Yes, that was what she would do.

She was going to make this work. This time, she would just have unabashed fun, and no one was going to be able to stop her. She already had her third magic ring formed, and if she did manage to get away, she could probably find a place at the Magic Tower as a trainee. Her family would be hard pressed to take her away if they found her. Provided she played her cards right. And she did plan on playing her cards right.

Yes. She could make this work. She could definitely make this work.

“Alright, my lady,” Fran said as she finished picking out the last mat. “Let’s get this done up in a nice braid.”

Fran’s sure, callused fingers started to twist a plait, sliding in flowers every few twists, and Tinea sat still for it. Soon, she was finished, and she moved on to clipping Tinea’s fingernails and toenails. Tinea let her, and Fran finished up rather quickly, moving on to trimming back her cuticles and cleaning up her fingers. Tinea’s socks were rolled on, and then shoes were eased on her feet, and Fran sat back.

“Now, Countess Amalia is your etiquette tutor, and will be here next week, so let’s go ahead and enjoy the grounds for now,” she said, and Tinea stared at her in silence. “Or would you prefer to stay here, my lady?”

“I’m hungry,” Tinea said, and Fran nodded.

“It’s mid morning, so should we take breakfast in the garden?” she asked, and Tinea nodded and came to her feet. Her braid crown was almost too tight against her scalp, and she resented it deeply. The worst part of living childhood over and over again was living childhood over and over. She was sick of it, and deeply resentful of her existence right now.

Ah, well. It was fine. She would survive. She was just sick of the childish braid crowns and clothing. She was dressed up like a porcelain doll, and she was uncomfortable with it. She was used to the floor length dresses, not having her knees out. They made for an easy target for the riding crop.

Countess Amalia would be here in a week, and she wanted to rip the woman’s throat out with her own teeth, as much as she didn’t want her dead. Actually, why shouldn’t she act like a brat and get her killed? Why shouldn’t she do that? She knew how this went, every time, and Lord Father had never once tolerated her behavior. Tinea could easily get her killed, and there was always the next life to be merciful. It wasn’t like it was permanent.

It was never permanent.

With a quiet sigh, she walked with Fran out of the bedroom and looked around. Fran stopped to speak to another maid, ordering her to get the kitchens ready for the ‘young lady’s breakfast’, and then she continued to lead her out.

“This way, my lady,” Fran said as she led her down the stairs. Tinea followed alongside her silently, wondering why on earth her mother had to die every time. It was unfair, unjust, and Tinea wondered why the world conspired against her like this. She missed her mother’s draft horse, Stick. He probably was sold for horse meat by now, and she missed him desperately.

She missed her mom’s warm laugh, her smile that made her one good eye twinkle. She had been a wonderful woman, making sure Tinea knew how to read, though she didn’t know how, and loving her with all she had.

“The only good thing your good for nothing father ever did for me,” was what Mom said about her. In reality, Lord Father had loved her, and loved her deeply, but Mom didn’t see it that way. To her, Lord Father had been a fling, nothing more. To Lord Father, Mom had been the love of his life.

Too bad he cheated on his wife with her, Tinea thought bitterly. Not that anyone deserved to be cheated on, but his wife had been a horrid woman. She abused the hell out of Tinea’s brothers until Lord Father arranged a carriage accident for her and took her out of the picture. Tinea knew that story, though no one talked about it. It had taken her three lifetimes to learn the truth, but she did eventually learn it.

Her father arranged a lot of carriage accidents.

It was a problem.

If only he could arrange a carriage accident for that damned Oracle, Tinea thought sourly. That would solve literally all of her problems, but in order to do that, she had to explain to her father what was going on, and the Oracle was, well, an Oracle. She would see it coming.

Which was exactly why Tinea wasn’t fighting this time. She could see everything coming before it happened, and Tinea wasn’t going to be playing her game. She would be a lifeless doll, see how the Oracle handled that. She was not going to be entertaining anything.

Gods, she was so annoyed.

“And here are the gardens,” Fran said as she pushed open the doors, and Tinea stepped out into the bright sunshine.

Eight years.

She could survive eight years.

And she was going to have as much fun as she damned well pleased in that time.