Spluttering and gasping for air, I tried to keep my head above water. My nose and throat burned, and I took heaving breaths, gurgling and gulping. My dress tangled around my legs, making kicking impossible. It got heavier and heavier, dragging me down.

  Help.

  I couldn’t speak.

  Help me, please!

  My arms filed as I struggled against the hands holding me down.

  There was a spsh of frigid water that sobered my mind.

  I came awake with a jolt. A maid stood by my bed, watching me. She wore a bck uniform, her white apron yellowed and stained with brown spots. A pail was in her hand, and another empty one was on the floor. She didn’t bother to hide her disgust. “Wha’ you making all tha’ racket for?” Her accent was as deplorable as her conduct. A sneer distorted her pretty face, pale and dotted with freckles across her cheeks.

  I ducked my head. The onsught of emotions was so overwhelming. I felt raw, jumping from a cold, hollow echo to fshes of intensity that left me cmmy and uncertain. There were moments when things felt distant and others when I felt too much.

  My emotions swung like a pendulum, refusing to settle. I slumped back in bed, the heels of my hands pressed to my eyes, a scream trapped in my throat.

  I don’t want to do this.

  It seemed easy when I pnned it alone, locked away and protected from the horrors I’d have to endure.

  I yelled as she yanked my arm, dragging me out of bed, my legs catching on the sheets, and throwing me forward as my knees buckled. The little strength I had left my body. I nded hard on my knees, jaw snapping shut, teeth-rattling, and my ears ringing. I was already weak from hunger and from being startled awake.

  “Can’ you not give problems? Look a’ th’ mess you made tha’ I will have to clean up,” she said. Her voice was low and would have been pleasant if not for the petunt whine that sounded comical with her naturally sultry tone. I bit my lips, swallowing the vomit that burned the back of my throat.

  I was the one giving problems?

  She looked at me like I was something dirty—like I was beneath her. I wanted to spit in her eyes, but had to close mine as spots danced before me, my vision blurring. If this carried on, I would pass out.

  She shook me. “Get up. Get up. Why I go’ to be in problems for you?” Her nails bit into the flesh of my arms. She regarded me suspiciously and seemed to search for something in my face. “This is your pn. You wan’ta get me in trouble.”

  I tried to push her away, but my limbs were putty. There was a rank smell coming from her dress. I gagged, trying to shift my head, but she grabbed my hair, jerking me back.

  It was too much.

  I threw up. Yellowy-green bile spttered on her dress and dribbled down my chin. She ripped my head back, making a sound of disgust, and I choked before she threw me to the floor.

  Coughs wracked my body as I struggled to breathe.

  I didn’t get a moment to pull myself together before she yanked at my dress. When nothing she did could get it off, she got a pair of scissors and cut at the fabric.

  “Ain’t nothing noble about you. But. Still, you go’ a meeting with th’ Duke. Go’ a be clean.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me along. “Why I go’ to do this? Draw a short straw tha’ why.”

  I half-crawled to the tub as she dragged me along. When at the edge of the bath, she didn’t hesitate to push me in, the cold water making my teeth chatter. Instinct had me attempting to crawl out, but she suppressed me.

  I looked at her, steering into her eyes only to be taken back when I didn’t see any malice, only determination. She pressed her lips, scrubbing at my skin unseeing, almost peeling off a yer of skin.

  What is this?

  “Ahmm.”

  My head snapped around. At the door stood a portly woman who wore a modest green dress that covered everything but her hands and face. She had her hair pulled into a bun that was so tight it stretched the skin of her face.

  Madaline, the housekeeper or matron of the keep, I couldn’t forget her.

  I trusted her.

  No, this is where I started trusting her.

  I looked between her and the maid, who was attempting to rip my hair out in the guise of washing it, a sinking feeling lodging in my gut.

  “Helga, that is no way to treat the young dy,” she said, her voice pitched low in a stern tone. Madaline moved closer, the chateine at her waist cnking with every step.

  “This ain’t no dy. Tha’ is worse than the street rats down by the slums.” Helga, that was her name, maybe. My instinct was to trust anything Madaline said, but the more I thought about it, the more wrong this felt.

  It was too precise, choreographed, even.

  The servants were never polite to me, but this was the first instance of outright violence. I thought back to what happened the first time. I couldn’t remember if it was the same maid, but something simir occurred. Only I’d been awake, and she threw the water at me while I stood cursing. She’d also done it in retaliation, I think. I remembered insulting the maid first. Madaline still came in at the same point when the maid forced me into the bath.

  Why was Helga carrying two pails of ice-cold water with her? I never questioned it.

  Since they allowed any rabble off the street to serve me, they often behaved in a way that got them fired quickly. I never thought much of it.

  Around this time, a maid seduced my oldest brother. She had some success, but he ter kicked her out.

  No. That didn’t make sense.

  I lost that train of thought as Madaline spoke. “Your actions are inexcusable. As servants of the Duchy, employees should uphold a certain standard regardless of their personal views. This treatment of your charge is deplorable, and I won’t allow it. Please leave. I want you to report to the head butler. He will know what to do with you.”

  I blinked. Those words were the same. My mind rebelled at the implication, but I couldn't deny it. To do so was a waste of the chance I'd been given.

  What a beautiful py. Fifteen-year-old me was taken in by this, enamored by the first person to protect me. Not even a little suspicious. Madaline wasn’t even doing anything great. She won my loyalty and trust with the bare minimum.

  “My dy,” Madaline said, coming to my side as Helga tried to slink out of the room, but her steps were wrong, an excited hop instead of dread at being fired. She didn't even protest or beg not to be fired. She just hurried out of the room with a half smile and a blush staining her cheeks.

  Madaline didn’t pause. “I can’t believe this has been happening. No more. I won’t allow it anymore. I have the perfect repcement, someone I can trust to care for you. I have a niece who I raised at my side and she will take over my position in the future. That girl is still a bit clumsy, but she will serve you wholeheartedly. Why don’t you meet her and then decide?” The tone of righteous indignation was just right.

  She made it seem like my choice, giving me power over my life when, until this point, I'd had little control.

  I marveled, knowing I should take notes. This behavior needed to be studied and emuted if I wanted to be anything other than a loser. The awful bitter thing in my stomach wreathed. I died not suspecting Madeline, cherishing my few memories of her and Catherine as the only ones who were kind to me when I lived in the Duchy.

  Yes, asking me to decide was a nice touch. I tried to think of an age-appropriate response but drew a bnk. I was over forty when I died, and it was hard to remember what happened when I was fifteen, much less how I behaved. Young, stupid, reckless, and willful were the character traits I would try to portray. I hadn’t interacted with these people often and hoped they wouldn’t notice the change in my behavior. The best thing working for me was the preconceived notions they already had. They probably wouldn’t suspect the useless thing they looked down on to become smart. “The water. It’s cold,” I said. I didn’t need to fake the effect of my teeth chattering.

  If Madeline cared about me, she'd have fed and clothed me before having this conversation. I shifted my hands, covering myself under the water. It took me a long time to get used to being naked around strangers and being served.

  Yes, that's right. Before this, the maids never helped me bathe, and when Catherine started, I was too embarrassed to have her do it. I also wanted her to like me and I tried to be as independent as possible so she wouldn't feel like a servant.

  “Silly me. Catherine?” she called, moving closer to the tub. A touch of her finger to the water turned it warm. “Poor dear. Why don’t you take a few moments to warm up?”

  A girl a few years older than me came into the room. She wore a gray uniform with a white apron, differentiating her from others. She was a dy’s maid.

  I was so fttered. I peeked at Catherine with sparkling eyes, accepting that I'd lived my whole life in vain as a hopeless idiot.

  Catherine followed me even after I married, but when she was twenty-five, she returned to the Duchy to get married. Fond days, when she advised me on everything, and we were, in my eyes, the best of friends. I'd depended on her—needed her to stay sane. She'd left without saying goodbye, and I couldn't begrudge her that. Not then, but now. Now I wondered and hated.

  “Hello.” I kept my shoulder hunched, head low. My action of peeking at her wasn't even fake. A part of me still hoped, unwilling to give up on the retionship we could have.

  “It's a pleasure to meet you, my dy.” She bowed, her posture perfect. Madaline gave a satisfied hum. “Alright. That is more like it. I still have other things that I need to do. Don’t worry, Third Miss, I will check in to ensure Catherine is doing her job properly. You can also lodge a compint if her service isn’t satisfactory.”

  “Thank you.” With Catherine's help, I stood. I looked down and stared in shock at the state of my body. My hip and rib bones protruded through paper-thin skin, under which a maze of green wormy veins y. I panicked, sinking back into the water and wrapping my arms around my legs.

  I pressed my forehead against my knee and squeezed my eyes closed. A moment—I needed a moment. "Sorry," I said, looking up when I felt more in control. "Thanks for helping with—you know."

  “It’s what I should do.” Madaline gnced at me before looking away. With a nod to Catherine, she was out the door.

  Really, the barest minimum.

  Catherine crouched beside the tub, towel in hand. “Why don’t we get you dressed while I ring for breakfast? Would you prefer that?”

  The kind look in her eyes shook my conviction. I found it hard to believe that it was all fake.

  I took the towel with a murmured thanks. I was too hungry to be having all these thoughts. She'd reveal her true self given enough time.

  After I dried off and put on my undergarments, Catherine helped me get dressed and sat me in front of the vanity table.

  I looked in the mirror, marveling. Catherine was a veritable treasure. It took special skill to style an outfit that cshed this much, despite using the best items in my wardrobe. She’d also picked a dress that highlighted the ugly neckce I wore. I caressed it before dropping it, where it nestled back into the ruffles at my neckline.

  That wasn't long. Twenty minutes and she'd dashed my hopes that we could be friends again.

  Catherine didn't hate or look down on me, but I wasn't important to her—I was a means to an end in whatever scheme Madeline had. I was pitiful, and it took nothing for her to show me kindness while we were together.

  “You are so beautiful,” she said, brushing my hair. “I’ve always heard about the distinct pink hair of the Ka Tribe, but this is my first time seeing it.” She twisted and twined until I wore braids and curls suited to a woman much older than I.

  Liar, I thought. With my hairstyle, bruised skin, and gaunt features, I looked like a grandma-ghost. “No wonder so many of the maids are jealous of you. I’m gd I will be serving at your side; I'm sure I'll have a bright future.”

  Her words struck a never, bringing back a conversation I'd had with a mercenary at the start of the war. I'd almost signed a bad contract and got cheated out of my pay. Remember, when someone's lying, they don't use connections. I did not instead of using I didn't—stuff like that. Doesn't work every time, but you have to look for that and other things. Like now that you're listening to me, you're tilting your head to the side and leaning your body towards me. Avoiding eye contact is obvious so most people train themselves out of that, but sometimes that's a problem cause they stare at you dead on like they're forcing you to believe them. People don't really stare into each other's eyes like that. It's creepy and not natural. Also, sometimes you can't help fidgeting like touching something or shifting from side to side. Lots of liars have a tell—like old Roddy always asks the question back before answering, and Tanny opens her fan and hides her mouth.

  Marcus, he'd died shortly after that.

  I pushed the thought out of my mind, looking at Catherine as she moved about. She didn’t compin when she picked through the jewelry scattered on the floor or kneeled to search for bobby pins. She did everything just right—as if she was happy to help. No, this was a show for me. She proved her dedication and dispyed that, despite my status, she didn't mind serving me. Her actions mirrored her words, proving that I could believe her, influencing me even if I was skeptical.

  I’m gd I will be the one serving at your side; I'm sure I'll have a bright future.

  She wasn't gd to be serving me, but there was something she could get only if she were by my side. Also, 'the one serving' was unnecessary to the sentence—either she was rambling or Madaline could have chosen someone else as my maid.

  If it was the former, it didn't matter, but if it was the tter, I could use Catherine. There was a repcement for her, so she would do anything to stay by my side.

  I ducked my head, racking my fingers through my bangs and pulling them forward while acting shy. I refused to let her comb my bangs back or style them, and she didn't insist.

  Just a steady stream of shameless fttery that went on from the moment she helped me get dressed until now. She didn’t bother with this much after today in my past life. She didn’t have to, having completely won me over.

  With the st pin in pce, she said, “It’s time to meet the Duke.”

  But I haven’t eaten…, the words died before I said them. It was for the best. At least, now I wouldn’t vomit on the duke like I did the st time.

  No. I was fine now, but it was harder to think when hungry and I couldn't afford mistakes.

  "Foo—od," I stuttered out. "Just some bread."

  "You can have a meal," she said. "The Duke wouldn't mind waiting a bit, so you can eat.

  I tried to think of the st time and what had happened.

  Ah, her fttery had emboldened me and I'd summoned a full-course meal. I'd asked for the same thing the rest of the family ate for lunch. The heavy, oily food was hard for my body to digest and I'd made a fool of myself. I didn't want to get hit—so I wouldn't do it again. There were plenty of other ways to make a fool of myself in front of him.

  "Soup and bread," I said, bouncing in my chair in excitement. "It will--" I caught myself. "It'll be hot, won't it?!"

  Catherine looked at me with pity before looking away. "I'll make sure it's hot, and the bread is fresh." As she walked out of the room, I couldn’t help wondering what else would change.