I woke up feeling I’d done something wrong, but it warred with the feeling that I hadn’t done enough. My sleep was restless, the slap replaying in my mind, mixing with a dream about things I hadn’t done. I couldn’t forget the thrill of having Cathrine at my feet, but she had done nothing to me yet, and I had no proof that she’d done anything to me in the past.

As she entered the room to help me get ready, a part of me wanted to apologize. I didn’t have a reason to hit Catherine. I wasn’t angry or frustrated at the time. It didn’t even have to be Cathrine. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I wouldn’t, though. Apologies were a touchy topic. Nobles never admitted they were wrong because others saw it as a weakness. Not because they didn’t know their actions were wrong. In a society where the strong preyed on the weak, it wasn’t the done thing for good reason.

I’d spent a lifetime being weak and apologizing for things I didn’t do. I’d be damned if the words crossed my lips again. That made me laugh. It was easy to say, but for all my grand proclamations, I didn’t know how to save myself and was fumbling around.

I huffed a breath, trying to ease the stuffiness in my chest.

Slapping her had another effect, other than turning my palm red. Catherine was more subdued. Her speech was careful, and her movements weary. It was clear Madeline was kind to her. She wasn’t hit much in her life. She was good at acting and could hide her arrogance, but she feared getting hit again. It was clear from how she flinched and watched my expression as we spoke.

It was a crack in her armor that I planned to exploit.

There was that feeling again. Like I was doing something bad. I acknowledged Cathrine was young, but she didn’t have any care or consideration for me. I was also young. The thought hit me as Cathrine helped me dress. I was fifteen, and she was fourteen, a year younger than me.

No one stopped to consider my age, as they included me in their plans. I tamped down the feeling. There were two choices: use or be used.

I missed her chattering that helped distract me from the daunting task ahead, but human hearts were weak. Having Catherine stay silent meant it was less likely that I would become attached to her.

“What type of magic do you have?” I asked. I should know, but magic was such a touchy subject for me, and I ignored all mentions of it and knew little about the discipline despite growing up in a household of the most powerful magic user in the kingdom of Sargos.

The hand brushing my hair paused. “Fire, my lady.” My reputation for screaming and acting crazy when people brought up magic probably preceded me.

Jealousy burned through me, but I pushed it down. I did that a lot, burying my feelings. “Why did you become a maid?”

“After my father died, my aunt helped my mother and me. I respect her and will do everything to return the favor.” Catherine’s hand started moving, her actions stronger.

Gratitude. How useless. I gave a dry chuckle. Yes, she was young and sheltered. I didn’t have enough information to pass judgment, but while Madeline was kind to Catherine, she might not care about Cathrine much.

Who would let a fire mage with unlimited potential and options become a lady-in-waiting for the most unfavored daughter of her employer?

There was another crack, and I pressed forward. “Did you spend a lot of time with Madeline?” She feared getting hit, and Catherine cared more about Madeline than herself. Two weaknesses. I didn’t know how to use them yet, but I was sure it would come in handy.

“Are you curious about my aunt?” She asked.

I nodded. Catherine’s eyes shone. It shocked me to see her weariness ease.

Too easy.

Calm down, I warned myself.

It would be wrong to get too excited and lose the advantage. “Madeline saved me too,” I said, pumping as much awe into my voice as possible.

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She clapped her hands. “My aunt is a good person. She’s always helping those in need. My mother’s help has always been bad, and she couldn’t manage after my father died, so she sent me to my aunt. My aunt didn’t feel right separating me from my last living parent, so she brought my mother to live with her. She even arranged for me to work in the castle.”

I listened to the excited lilt of her voice and wondered if I was cynical. Madeline had her mother and could easily threaten her if Catherine decided not to comply one day. There were also notes of fervency that rang like brainwashing. “Who was your dad?”

“Viscount Mallot,” she said, her voice a mix of pride and sadness.

The blurry image in my mind took shape. “You were the Viscount's only child?”

She nodded, confused about where the conversation was going.

“So, who is managing his position?” I stared in the mirror, marveling again at Cathrine’s ability to make any outfit she chose for me look as ugly as possible.

“My cousin is managing the position. I didn’t think it suited me since I haven’t been good at studying since I was young. Madeline says it’s my responsibility, so she thought it would be good for me to enter the castle and serve the duchess so I could learn.”

That was the prettiest bullshit I’d ever heard. Sargos was a cognatic primogeniture favoring the firstborn to inherit, regardless of gender. The only situation where the firstborn didn’t inherit was when their younger sibling was overwhelmingly more magically powerful. I was curious about what happened to Catherine in my last life. Catherine probably didn’t even realize Madeline robbed her of her inheritance.

“You're lucky Madeline’s willing to help you with so much.”

*

Viscountess Rintour wasn’t beautiful, not like Selena or I. Her eyes were a little too small, her forehead a bit big, and her chin so sharp she could slice you with it, but she was captivating. There was no point denying it. You might not notice her when she entered the room, but it was hard to look away once she had your attention.

I glanced in the mirror, assessing myself. A dress that was one size too big, not enough to make the wearer uncomfortable, but apparent to the trained eye of a gossipy noble. The color was a deep burgundy that aged me ten years and clashed with my hair, which was another disaster. Hands clenched, I resisted the urge to tug at the riot of tight ring curls that only toddlers or dolls wore. At the bottom were black kitten heels, three seasons out of style, which was probably a worse fashion crime than the too-large dress. At least my posture was good, standing tall with my shoulders back. I’d have to work on keeping my chin up, having never grown out of keeping my head down when faced with anyone with a peerage. It was hard not to laugh at my stupidity. I only showed my arrogance to servants before time and circumstance wore it out.

All around, I was a joke.

Those same servants I lorded over likely laughed and cursed me behind my black. Even if they couldn’t afford luxuries, they served by the side of those who did. With Selena by my side for added comparison, even I found my behavior ridiculous.

My eyes turned to Catherine, who hung at the back of the room. She didn’t appear to be paying attention. Something dark and acidic bubbled in the back of my throat and gut. A lady's maid was more aware of the trends than anyone else, her eye for what was in style probably sharper than her mistresses.

Head down, I swallowed. I knew Catherine was doing it. I wanted her to, but standing here dressed like a fool didn’t feel good.

Sigh, it was so nuanced. A maid trained to serve Selena had to leave that coveted position to tend to the arrogant, useless, illegitimate daughter. The set-up was flawless. Cathrine only needed to act young and play a petty and small-minded character, which would cause problems in the future. They turned her into a blunt blade and sent her to my side. With that character, she wouldn’t think the fault lay with her, but blame and take revenge on me instead. It was something a fourteen-year-old girl might do if serving an ignorant lady. She didn’t take it too far, and it was something the surrounding adults would have to notice and stop. Everything was neat and had a logical explanation.

The guilt for slapping her eased. I ignored the urge to do it again. It was a slippery slope to take my anger out on others. Violence had its place, but if used too much, its effectiveness decreased. My husband taught me that.

“Are you listening to me?” Viscountess Rintour asked.

I signaled her with my eyes.

She arched her brow. “You there,” she said, pointing to Cathrine. “Go get three heavy books from the library.” Viscountess Rintour tapped her ruler against her palm while looking at me with dark eyes. It looked real. I thought the viscountess was about to hit me. Catherine suspected nothing.

The viscountess watched. That perfectly arched brow turned mocking somehow. “Now that we are alone?”

I steeled myself. I’d never tried blackmailing anyone, but how hard could it be?

“How is Branbury? Or was it Bradley?” I asked, knowing full well what his name was. “Ah, no. How is Brandon?”

Oh.

It was the same, seeing Rintour stagger, her mouth gaping, and her famed composure gone.

The tiny rush and racing heartbeat were the same as when I slapped Cathrine.

No, it was different.

My heart threatened to leap out of my chest. My palms were clammy, but I did my best not to make it obvious I was nervous. I started pacing the room to hide the slight tremble in my leg and arms.