Tamsin remained as comforting as ever—steady, warm, endlessly patient. Beside Cassia and Mother Elowen, she was the third woman in my life I truly wanted to see happy forever. I could ask Mother Elowen to help me through these wretched periods, but she was almost always consumed by household duties—endless ledgers, servants' schedules, Morwenna's endless demands. Tamsin, though, was here. Right here.
"B–but what if... if I remain flat-chested and no one marries me? There's no good man around—aaaaahh!"
The words tumbled out in a sobbing, overly dramatic wail, thick with tears and exaggeration. When had I started thinking this way? I didn't know. Every fear that surfaced felt instantly real, impossibly heavy, as though it had always been true. I buried my face deeper into Tamsin's soft breasts, rubbing my cheek against the comforting swell in childish, needy desperation, seeking solace in the warmth and the faint jasmine scent that clung to her.
"...You will get married," Tamsin murmured, her voice soft but certain. "I haven't seen anyone more beautiful and elegant than you."
Her face had flushed a deep crimson—she was trying to hold it back, but the color betrayed her. Rubbing my face against her breast like this, so needy and unfiltered, was clearly too much for her gentle heart. That was Tamsin: too kind, too willing to endure discomfort just to ease mine.
Then her hand came to rest on my head. She rubbed slow, soothing circles through my hair. I closed my eyes, surrendering completely to the touch—the gentle pressure of her fingers, the rhythm that felt like breathing itself.
"Really? ... How?"
Thanks to her, the storm inside me had quieted—I felt much calmer than before, the sharp edges of pain and despair dulled by her steady presence. But my earlier question still hung between us, unanswered. Tamsin paused, brow furrowing in gentle thought, then her face brightened.
"Hmmmm… ohh yes!"
A wide, excited smile bloomed across her lips. She leaned in closer, voice bubbling with sudden inspiration.
"You're forgetting about the party—the one the Viremon family is holding. It's in two days. Maybe you'll meet someone new there. And you could try out some new clothes."
My eyes widened so far I felt them stretch. The realization hit like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"YES! I can try a ball dress. I've been dying to try one!"
Excitement overloaded every word; I shot upright on the bed, spine straight, heart racing. For a blissful second I lost myself in daydreams—silk whispering against skin, skirts swirling in candlelight. "Definitely a red one…" The thought alone made me laugh inside, giddy and bright, the sound bubbling up in quiet, private joy.
Tamsin tapped my shoulder lightly, sitting up beside me and gently tugging me back to earth. A small, fond giggle escaped her.
"You can't wear a ball dress," she said, soft but firm. "You're still young, and Mother Elowen won't allow it. Same goes for everyone."
She was right, of course. But who cares? I have my own methods.
Tamsin Fairley—such an innocent girl, a maid's daughter born and raised in the shadow of our household—yet I have never once treated her like a servant. The same goes for all the servants, really. It's simply who I am, a stubborn thread of decency that even Morwenna couldn't unravel or manipulate in my previous life. It survived the spoiling, the isolation, the puppet strings. It's still here now.
"Well~ I'm still going to wear it."
I said it with an unbothered shrug, voice light, expression serene. Tamsin's eyes widened instantly; worry flooded her face in the most adorably earnest way—brows knitting, lips parting in soft alarm.
"W–what are you planning to do this time? You're already on your grandmother's bad side. Do you want to be grounded?"
I stayed perfectly unbothered. Tamsin was too innocent to grasp the full shape of my scheme, but part of me wanted her to understand. More than that—I wanted her to feel like a real person, a soul with her own desires and fears, not just a kind shadow in service. She deserved that much.
"In case you can't see, I'm already grounded," I replied, gesturing confidently with both hands—open palms, a little flourish for emphasis. "She's piled on so many limits already that she can't possibly add more without running out of rules."
I explained it as clearly as I could, watching her face. She understood—mostly. The logic landed, but the fear lingered in her eyes, a quiet tremor at the thought of what Morwenna might say. Everyone feared her; she was the undisputed head of the house, the iron will behind every wall and whisper. Yet her control wasn't absolute—not like in my previous life. There were cracks now, small freedoms I could slip through. And I intended to.
I slid off the bed and started walking—fast, purposeful strides carrying me toward the door. Tamsin hurried after me, her footsteps lighter and a little frantic as she struggled to match my pace.
"What's on your mind? And how are you sprinting? Weren't you in pain a moment ago?"
Her voice floated from behind, half-worried, half-bewildered. I slowed just enough for her to catch up, glancing back with a small, mischievous smile as she drew level.
"I'm going to dive into Mother Elowen's closet," I announced, confidence ringing clear in every word. "I'm sure I can do something with her old clothes—the ones she doesn't wear anymore."
My eyes fixed ahead, locked on the distant door to my parents' bedroom as we reached the hallway. Tamsin bit her nails like a nervous child, clearly torn. She knew she couldn't stop me—not really—but her mind raced for any excuse that might.
"Oh yes…" she started, awkward and grasping. "Like… think about how you'd have to wear a mad tight corset on top, and are you sure you can find the right combination? So are you…"
Her words trailed off, fumbling for more ammunition. The attempt was sweet, honestly—earnest and well-meaning—but it didn't budge me an inch. I kept walking, undeterred, the thrill of rebellion already humming under my skin.
"I'm pretty sure I can," I shot back, chin high. "And if Grandma doesn't affect me, how's a corset going to? I bet it'll feel honorable on the waist."
My confidence crushed her resistance in one clean blow. Tamsin's shoulders slumped just a fraction—she had no choice but to abandon the idea of stopping me. Still, she stuck close; it was her job, after all. I liked annoying her sometimes, watching that adorable mix of worry and reluctant fondness play across her face.
My parents' bedroom lay on the opposite side of the grand staircase. We walked along the curved hallway, our footsteps echoing softly off the polished stone as we passed the servants at their tasks—dusting ornate frames, mopping marble floors, watering tall potted ferns, tending to the endless small details that kept the mansion alive. Each one paused to greet us: a quick smile, a respectful dip of the head, eyes lowered in quiet deference.
Nothing special, really—not for someone born into royalty. In my previous life I had barely noticed them, too tangled in my own confusion about sexuality, too wrapped in shame and secrets to see the people around me. But they were lovely—kind, hardworking, steady. Now, unlike before, I smiled back at every single one of them, small and genuine, letting the warmth reach my eyes.
I pushed open the white-and-silver doors to my parents' bedroom and stepped inside without hesitation, turning immediately toward the closet. Tamsin hesitated at the threshold, leaning in cautiously to peer around the frame before daring to follow.
No one inside, you silly girl.
"You should have knocked first," Tamsin murmured, voice low and hushed. "What if someone was inside? It's inappropriate."
She sounded calmer than before, though the worry still lingered like a faint echo. The heavy closet door swung open with a smooth, wooden sigh, and I answered without turning.
"You're with me," I said lightly, hands already diving into the hanging fabrics. "You have to learn not to worry so much—and also learn how to make other people worry."
My fingers brushed silk, satin, lace—rows upon rows of Mother Elowen's elegant wardrobe, beautiful but mostly too large, too mature for my frame. As I'd expected, I'd have to hunt for the older pieces, the forgotten gowns tucked deeper in.
Tamsin edged closer to the open closet doorway, hesitant but drawn in. I kept talking, casual and teasing.
"And besides, you won't find my parents doing lovey-dovey stuff anyway. So it's fine—just come in."
Her face flushed crimson again, arms pulling tight across her chest in that familiar, flustered hug. The words had landed exactly as intended—innocent enough on the surface, yet enough to make her squirm. I pulled out a few promising garments—older dresses, perhaps from before my mother's tastes grew more restrained—and draped them over my arm.