Her last thought, as her eyes closed, was that this only meant she would be scolded more severely when she woke.
Outside, the windows of the mansion went dark one by one, and the night came on.
Useless thing.
She was small again, and somewhere else, collapsed on a cold floor, weak and burning with fever. The red-haired man stood over her with his mouth twisted in irritation.
"You fall ill over a shrimp," the Marquis said. "Do you understand what your illness has cost me? My entire schedule is delayed."
A younger version of herself, brown-haired and tearful, pressed her forehead to the floor. "I'm sorry, Marquis. I'm sorry."
He took her by the arm and hauled her up until she was level with his face. "Don't forget why I adopted you."
Then he shoved her back down and let her fall, grunting with anger. "Never make a mistake like this again."
A magic circle glowed on the desk in the study, and his voice came from behind her, flat and certain. "If you do not become the greatest magician in the Empire, I will discard you."
She sat at the desk with her books open. His hand came down on the wood and she flinched.
"You will succeed in our final plan. And in the meantime, you will learn time reversal magic — for when you inevitably fail."
He turned and walked away.
"Marquis," she said, to his back. "If I succeed, will you—"
"Daddy!"
A blond girl came running into the study, and the Marquis crouched to catch her, his whole face changing.
"Elisha. What have I told you about coming in here?" he said fondly, brushing her hair back with his fingers.
From the shadows against the wall, the other girl watched them and said nothing.
A servant announced that the carriage was ready. She chided herself as she followed him out. She had almost asked a foolish question. She should know better than that by now.
Still, she thought, walking behind him — if she succeeded in the plan, would he finally acknowledge her?
That was her past, and there was no dressing it up. She had believed she had found a family. What she had found was a curse laid on her heart, binding her to obey her master's every command.
The killing became routine. It earned her hatred everywhere she went, and when the Marquis heard how she was spoken of, he called it a good sign.
She remembered the dark magic gathering in her hands, and the voice telling her that a worthless person like her had finally become useful. Her palms glowing with purple light, and the understanding that being useful was progress, and progress was all that was permitted her.
Memory after memory, soaked in blood: enemy after enemy cut down so that her master's long-awaited final plan would succeed.
And behind the blood, always, the same question. When the day comes, will he finally look at me?
The room was full of sunlight when she opened her eyes.
"The physician has already been to see you," someone said.
Duke Adrien stood at her bedside with his hand over his mouth, and his face held such relief and such concern that she did not know where to put her eyes.
"I'm awake," Rosette said meekly, and pulled the covers up to hide behind. He stayed where he was, arms crossed, watching her.
She peered over the edge of the blanket, somber and thinking hard.
He came around the bed. Her arm was bandaged now, from wrist to elbow.
"I owe you an apology," the Duke said. "I never checked whether you had allergies. It didn't occur to me — none of my children have any — and that is no excuse. It was my oversight."
Rosette looked at him blankly. Why is he apologizing? It was my mistake.
"It wasn't your fault," she said.
"It was."
"It wasn't." She twisted her nightgown in both fists. "I'm sorry. I'm defective."
The word landed in the quiet room.
"I couldn't make myself eat the shrimp," she went on, and then stopped, and stood there in silence with her wide eyes full of uncertainty, waiting to see what he would do with that.
He crouched and lifted her chin gently with one finger.
"Who told you," he asked, "that you had to endure eating something that hurts you?"
She said nothing.
He leaned closer, and there was something dangerous in his concern now. "Who called you defective? Who scolded you for it?"
Rosette wrung her hands. I'm just an orphan. Orphans don't cause trouble at other people's tables. Her throat closed. Tears welled up and spilled over before she could stop them.
"I thought — being picky is bad, so I thought I had to—"
"Rosette."
The Duke went down on one knee in front of her, and then he pulled the small girl into his arms and held her.
"Listen to me," he said quietly against her hair. "Being unable to eat something is not the same as choosing not to. It never has been. You are never to force yourself again."
"But I was always scolded," she said.
"From now on you won't be," he said. "I promise you that."
Tucked into his arms, Rosette quietly agreed.
And then the kindness of it went through her all at once, and she broke, and sobbed until she could not breathe, and he simply held on and patted her back.
"There," he said. "There's nothing wrong with being a little picky. You never have to eat anything you dislike. Is there anything else?"
She sniffed. "Carrots," she confessed timidly.
He knelt beside the bed while she wiped her face and promised him, very earnestly, that she could eat absolutely everything else just fine.
"Then I'll have the cooks take shrimp and carrots out of your meals," he said, smiling, and stroked her hair.
He kept patting her head. Rosette looked up at him, flushed with gratitude and relief.
Then his eyes went to the scratches above the bandage, and he frowned slightly. "Those may scar. I think it's time you met someone."
Rosette blinked at him. Her arm was wrapped in white to the elbow, and she held it against herself. "Am I meeting my teacher?"
"Sebastian," the Duke called. "Send for Seline."
Seline? Rosette thought. Who is Seline?
The answer came from the corridor: the sharp, unhurried click of high heels on marble. And Rosette knew exactly who was coming.
The air by the door stirred. Butterflies came through it first — a whole flurry of them, one glowing bright red at the center, wings burning without burning anything at all.