Tinea sat with her feet in the fish pond, watching the fat goldfish swim around in circles, and sighed quietly. It had been a quiet week. Countess Amalia was due to arrive today, and she was not looking forward to it. The woman was a vicious cunt, taking out all her frustrations on Tinea’s shins, and Tinea just had to deal with it.

Tinea did not want to deal with it. Tinea wanted to show her what it meant to be an Inistor, but Tinea had long since learned that she didn’t deserve the title of Inistor. At least, not in the eyes of her father. No, her father would not back her up. He had proven that when he stood aside when she was unfairly executed for a crime she did not commit. He wouldn’t fight the church for her, so what use was he? He was useless. Worse than useless, he was a downright deadbeat. Cowardly man, she thought darkly. He was willing to kill for her, but he wasn’t willing to risk the name and title of Inistor. He should be willing to burn down the world for her, but she knew life wasn’t that simple. It was never that simple.

She hoped he mourned her and hated his own cowardice. She had told him in the second lifetime she was framed, and he had done nothing to save her. In the third lifetime, she hadn’t even wasted her breath.

With a groan, she leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the sky. It was cloudy. It was probably going to rain soon, and she should head inside. Fran would be horrified if she got caught out in the rain. And if she got sick… Yes, Fran would be very upset. Very upset indeed.

With a groan, she came to her feet and dried off her feet with the towel she had brought with her before she slipped back into her stockings and shoes. Carrying the towel back, she made her way to the estate, sitting there, as pretty as could be. She looked up at the rain clouds hanging fat and heavy on the horizon, and grimaced. Of course Countess Amalia was arriving in the rain. She couldn’t even hide in the forest to escape her. These lessons had been hammered in through pain in each and every lifetime, and she swore Countess Amalia got a high off of it.

She probably did enjoy it, in a sick and twisted way. It was so frustrating to see people make the same mistakes again and again. The same choices again and again. Her father, choosing to abandon her. Delfina, choosing to frame her. Countess Amalia, choosing to hit her. It was an ongoing cycle, and she was fed up with it.

She was more than fed up with it.

With a sigh, she walked into the house, where the maids were hustling and bustling to clean up in anticipation of their guest, and Tinea headed directly for the parlor where she was meant to meet the countess. The woman was a snake and a vicious gossip, and Tinea wasn’t prepared for meeting her again. She loathed her. She couldn’t stand the woman, and if she died again, so be it. Tinea would play along for now, be the picture perfect student, but she also knew Countess Amalia had a habit of just making up excuses to hit her.

It was a problem. A problem Tinea didn’t know how to solve. She would probably hit her if she found out she was at the pond soaking her feet. She hit her for everything as a teenager, and she did it again when she was twelve. Tinea didn’t think her being twelve would stay her hand. In fact, she may hate her even more. The woman was…

Well, Tinea didn’t care if she was killed over this. Let her get killed. Tinea would die at eighteen, and the whole story would repeat all over again. If she died, she died. It wasn’t like it was permanent.

The door to the parlor opened, and Tinea looked up. In strode Countess Amalia in all of her glory, with her sweet, angelic face, brown hair in perfect ringlets, blue eyes clear and betraying no sign of her duplicity. She was in a skirt and blouse, with a jacket over the top of it, and her heels clicked on the floor as she approached Tinea, gripping a riding crop betwixt her gloved hands.

“Lady Tinea Inistor,” she said, and Tinea straightened up.

“Yes,” she said, and Countess Amalia tilted her head.

“This is just an introduction. Classes will begin tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to rest,” she said grandly, as if she was particularly magnanimous for giving Tinea a day off when they hadn’t even officially started yet. “I hear you were at the pond.”

“I was,” Tinea confirmed, and braced. Just as she suspected, a stinging hit from the riding crop landed on her shins, and she pursed her lips.

“A lady does not dally about in ponds,” Countess Amalia said, and Tinea looked down at her white stockings, hiding the welt that was surely rising. “We’ll have to beat the wild child out of you.”

“Countess Amalia,” Fran said sharply. “Inistor children are not to be struc---”

“Were you hired to be her etiquette teacher?” Countess Amalia asked mildly, and Tinea twitched. “No? Then defer to my judgment.”

“This is highly improper,” Fran said archly. “I highly doubt the marquis told you to---”

“This is how illegitimate children are trained,” Countess Amalia said, as if Tinea was a dog. “And you are a maid. Mind your place.”

Fran fell silent, glaring at Countess Amalia, and Tinea wondered if the butler was going to send a letter to her father this time. Probably not. He only did it about half of the time, and it only depended on the severity. If she could push Countess Amalia to beat her black and blue, her father would show up, but that was a big if. It was relatively easy to push the woman’s buttons, but Tinea needed to decide if she cared enough to do so.

It depended on if Countess Amalia got under her thick skin this time. The woman had a cutting tongue, and Tinea didn’t like it.

“Now,” Countess Amalia said as she turned to Tinea, “what do we say?”

“I apologize,” Tinea said, hating herself for saying it, but she could play the long game. Countess Amalia wouldn’t beat her black and blue on the first day. She would wait at least a week.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Countess Amalia asked, and Tinea stared at her, wondering if she was ever afraid when she died in that carriage accident. If she ever regretted it, or if she double downed. Well. Tinea would never know.

“No, it wasn’t,” Tinea said and came to her feet. “Excuse me. I’m tired from playing.”

With that, she swept right out of the room, Fran on her heels, and the door clicked shut.

“I think I’d like to go to the library,” Tinea said, because there was someone she wanted to see.

“You’d like to go to the library, my lady?” Fran asked in surprise, and Tinea nodded.

“I can read,” she said, and Fran blinked.

“Well, then, let’s get you to the library,” Fran said and swept ahead of Tinea. “This way, my lady.”

Tinea followed behind her, and Fran led her through the maze of a building, up several stairs, all the way to the top floor, where a long, grand hallway stretched out, with only two double doors right in the middle of it.

“The library is the pride and joy of the Marchdom of Inistor,” Fran explained as she walked towards the double doors. “There is only one caretaker inside, and she keeps it clean and neat. It has withstood several generations of book collectors, and it is the shining jewel of the marchdom.”

She glanced back at Tinea, and then she smiled.

“It’s good you like to read,” she said kindly, and Tinea gave her a small smile as Fran pushed open the double doors.

The library took up the entire top floor. There were stained glass skylights, lamps everywhere, plants, and it spanned three levels, with multiple staircases and ladders that slid along the walls. It was expansive, awe inspiring, and Tinea knew her father was constantly adding to it.

There was the sound of heels clicking on the floor as Samantha Doni in the flesh approached them, and Tinea felt tears sting at her eyes at the sight of her. The one person that believed her and visited her in prison, but had no power to save her.

“My lady,” Samantha said and dropped into a curtsy. “I didn’t realize you were coming to visit me so soon.”

“Hello,” Tinea said around the lump in her throat as she stared up at Samantha. The woman had her hair caught up in an updo, auburn, with brown eyes that spoke to true, honest kindness. She was a beautiful woman, but she had a scar in her eyebrow that spoke to a hard life. Not that she knew Tinea knew that.

“My name is Samantha Doni, my lady,” Samantha said, and Tinea smiled at her. She was so happy to see her again. Every time, it was like a fresh breath of air. She was always, always kind to Tinea, always wise, and always the mother Tinea missed desperately. Tinea couldn’t count the amount of times she fell asleep in the library and woke up with a blanket over her. This place was her solace, her safe escape, and she missed it horribly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Samantha,” Tinea said and swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, my lady,” Samantha said kindly, and Tinea looked around the room.

“May I read some novels?” she asked, and Samantha inclined her head.

“Right this way, my lady,” she said as Fran hovered in the doorway. Tinea followed along behind her, and Fran backed out of the library, closing the doors behind her. Samantha led Tinea up the stairs, towards the familiar novel section, and Tinea browsed through the selection before she took out The Pirate Lady. It was old and familiar, and it wasn’t as well worn as it had been in Tinea’s past life. She sighed and inhaled the scent of the pages, and then she turned to Samantha.

“Thank you, Samantha,” she said. “I’ll just settle down here and read in the library, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Samantha said, and turned aside to sweep away. “I’ll just be downstairs getting the new order categorized if you need anything, my lady.”

“I won’t!” Tinea called, and then she found her way to her favorite nook as Samantha walked away. It was the same as ever, with the green armchair, significantly less well worn, a lamp hanging above, and she sat down just as rain started to patter down on the roof.

She curled up with the book, knowing damn well Amalia was going to beat her tomorrow for daring to read a novel, and opened to the first page.

Ah. There wasn’t a lot she missed in each life, but she always missed this the most.

“My lady,” Samantha sobbed as Tinea stared at her with dull, dead eyes. “I know you didn’t do it. I know you wouldn’t do something like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tinea said, feeling utterly dead inside. “Nothing matters anymore.”

“It does matter. Your life matters,” Samantha insisted and seized Tinea’s hands from between the bars. “You’ve always been kind to me, my lady, even after you learned of my indiscretion. You’ve always been like a fresh breath of spring air, and I refuse to believe you did this.”

“It doesn’t matter if I did it or not,” Tinea said lowly. “What matters is what people choose to believe. And the daughter of Marquis Inistor was always going to be a villain in their eyes.”

“This is Adrius’s doing,” Samantha said, and Tinea looked up at her with dead eyes. “I know it’s Adrius’s doing.”

“Samantha,” Tinea whispered. “Let me go.”

Samantha’s hands were shaking, trembling, and she slowly released Tinea’s hands.

“I will find you your justice,” Samantha promised, and Tinea gave her a small smile.

“I’ll find my own justice,” Tinea said. “I’ll see you next time.”

“Next time?” Samantha asked in confusion, and Tinea’s eyes looked down at the manacles on her wrists.

“Next time, it won’t be like this,” Tinea promised. “Just wait for me, Samantha. I’ll be back.”

Tinea couldn’t help but wonder if all of those timelines continued on with her death, or if everything just reset at random. She had to wonder if Samantha ever got her justice. Probably not. At the end of the day, Samantha was a disgraced, divorced former noble woman, stripped of her title and cast out as a result of her divorce, and did not have the social power to bring the Oracle herself to justice. It just didn’t work that way.

Tinea hoped Samantha didn’t get herself into any trouble. Or killed. The Oracle was clearly very willing to kill to keep her position, and Tinea still didn’t understand why she had targeted her so viciously. It didn’t make any sense. Tinea was no threat to her. She was the daughter of a marquis, yes, but she was an illegitimate one. It was only because of a promise made before her birth that she was even able to marry so well.

Well, well was a matter of opinion, because Tinea would never consider Adrius marrying well. He was a lout of a husband, worse than useless, and she hated him with every fiber of her being. Thank gods she never got the chance to progress to actually marrying him. That would have been a nightmare.

Her betrothal was going to be announced in tangent with the announcement of her discovery. It was going to be an entire nightmare to manage. She would have requests for tea sent left and right, just so they could nitpick her appearance, her manners, her ability to tell a teaspoon from a soup spoon. Well, joke was on them. She had done her etiquette training four times, and she was going to be perfect.

If she decided to be perfect, that was. She may not. She didn’t know. It was entirely up in the air. With a sigh, she sunk down even more with the book, her brain whirling. The problem with doing whatever she wanted was she didn’t actually know what she wanted. Did she want to be the queen bee of the social season? Or did she want to be a nasty little gremlin of a feral child? She didn’t know. Both options were tantalizing, but she didn’t know what she wanted to choose.

Ah, she had a month to choose before her father showed up. Maybe she would be a mystery in high society. Already, she was at three rings, which was unheard of for a ten year old. She was better than even Elric. He reached three rings at fifteen. If she could get up to four rings, she could reliably cast a teleportation spell, which would be plan B if plan A failed. She would go to the magic tower and completely pretend like Elric didn’t exist. That would be funny. He worked at the magic tower at this point, eighteen years old and a five ring. He would probably turn purple if he found out Tinea was a three ring.

Ah, well.

He would just have to cope, she thought as she stretched out and braced her chin on her fist.

Would her father take her back from the magic tower, though? That was the question. She would have to test it.

It would be kind of funny if he didn’t. He would probably leave her there for five years until her social debut, and then he would kick up a fuss. That would be more on brand with what she knew of him, after four lifetimes of him. He would still insist she have an etiquette teacher and regular tutor while she was there, though, so her time would be packed. That was fine.

If she survived this time, maybe she would work at the magic tower indefinitely. She didn’t intend to get married. And she had a feeling her father wouldn’t push the topic.

Ah.

If she survived.

She wasn’t going to survive, she thought grimly. That was fine. She had eight years to have fun and pursue magic, so it was fine. Maybe, in the next life, she could get three rings even sooner. She had a record to beat.