“You mean, our baby's fourth circle?!” his mother exclaimed. 

“Eclesia, we have to celebrate!” 

“Of course, Jerumel!” Eclesia replied. She hugged her son tight. “I'm going to make all of your favorite foods tonight!” 

Mancer struggled in her embrace, trying in vain to tap out. Just when he felt that he would die of asphyxiation, a clear, bright voice interrupted the impending filicide. 

“Excuse me,” Angelina smiled sweetly, and she immediately had the family's full attention. She curtsied deeply to Mancer and said, “I look forward to our lessons, Master Pericles.” 

His parents were slack jawed as the daughter of their lord turned on her heels and walked gracefully out of the room. A blissful silence filled Mancer's ears, and then… 

“You get to learn with the Baron's daughter?!” Eclesia exclaimed, “that's amazing, Pericles!” 

“Now we have two things to celebrate,” Jerumel added. 

“Double portions of everything!” 

Jerumel smiled proudly. “My son is living proof that a commoner can be just as smart as a noble,” he said seriously. 

Eclesia punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Stop it, you,” she said playfully, and Jerumel grinned like he was the luckiest man alive. 

Mancer stared wearily at his parents. After living alone for thirteen years, he'd forgotten just how loud other people could be. 

“Actually, I'll be the one teaching her,” he mumbled, but his parents were still chattering happily to each other and didn't hear him. He sighed, refusing to go to all the effort of correcting them when he couldn't even get a word in edgewise. 

Sometimes people could be too much. 

*** 

Shana felt stifled. She'd been moved to the opposite end of the estate, into a whole suite of rooms that seemed like it could fit about a hundred of her old room. Her meager belongings sat in a box on the table in front of her. She was never one to waste money, so with nearly all of her daily essentials provided for her, she'd had nothing left to do with her humble wage other than to save it. Frugality didn't suit her. 

Now she sat wearing a ridiculously fancy dress, staring into the box that contained her diary, a full coin pouch, and the ragged stuffed rabbit her father had given her all those years ago. In addition to these humble items, she had one other possession which she never removed. It was just a simple golden ring, but it meant more to her than all of the platinum mines in the world. This ring had been her mother's wedding band. 

She sighed loudly and stared out the second story window. Her bedroom overlooked the manor’s gardens, and from here she could see the towering willow that had been the sight of the morning’s altercation. She sighed again. 

As an orphan, she wanted nothing more than to feel the love of a family once again, but her current situation seemed to her a bit eccentric, perhaps even bombastic. Was it wrong of her to feel suspicious of the Baron and his daughter? Perhaps, but anyone with her experience would think twice before letting someone into their life. 

Indeed, it had taken nearly all of her willpower just to survive for this long. She wasn't living for herself. If she had only her own feelings to consider, she would have ended it all long ago. But her mother's last words had been a prayer for Shana to live, and she wasn't about to defile that wish. 

Since then, she'd struggled and clawed her way through five long years of life, eventually finding her place at the Baltimore Estate, content to serve the Baron and his family in whatever capacity was required. Now all of that had been flipped on its head, and she found herself mistrusting even the most commonplace of statements. Yet another sigh escaped from her thin lips. Maybe it was just her street smarts talking, but she felt that something wasn't quite right with the Baron and his daughter. 

*** 

The day passed swiftly for Angelina. Eager to start her magic lessons, she rose with the sun the next day and walked with her maid to the cottage where her newly appointed teacher stayed. She moved to knock on the door, but her maid stopped her. 

“Forgive me, my lady, but I cannot permit your delicate fingers to strike the hard wood of this door. Please, allow me.” 

Angelina rolled her eyes at her maid's overbearance. “You worry too much, Charlotte,” she chided. 

“I apologize for my candor, my lady, but I must say, you worry too little, and so I must do all the worrying for the both of us in order to make up for your lack of worry.” 

Angelina smiled icily. “Charlotte, do you think yourself superior to me?” 

Charlotte hesitated for just a second too before responding, “That was not my intention my lady. Please forgive my impertinence.” She bowed deeply in an attempt to placate her mistress. 

Angelina stared at her dispassionately. “Very well,” she replied innocently, “a good flogging, and you shall be divested of your crime.” She stared at her carefully filed nails and continued, “I hope you will reflect on this in the future and learn from your experience. I relieve you of your duties until your punishment can be carried out. You may go.”

Charlotte was mortified. Tears came to her eyes as she stared miserably at the girl she’d served for six years. It wasn't that the punishment had scared her. Rather, it was the fact that the girl she cared for as her own child had dismissed her so flippantly despite her good intentions. “M-My… my lady…” she quibbled. 

Angelina couldn't contain her laughter. She doubled over, slapping her knee lightly at her own joke. “You thought I was being serious?!” the Baron's daughter exclaimed. “You're so gullible, Charlotte! Be glad you’re serving me instead of working in the city. You'd get swindled easily.” 

Charlotte died inside. She knew very well of her gullibility. It was the very reason she'd come to this estate, without a penny to her name. And now she was being toyed with in much the same manner by the girl she'd raised herself. It wasn't enough that she waited on her hand and foot, but she also had to endure her sadistic sense of humor, too. “You're so cruel,” she mumbled. 

Angelina smiled sweetly. “Did you say something my dear Charlotte?” she asked. 

“Nothing at all, my lady,” Charlotte replied wearily. 

Angelina grinned and twirled towards the door, announcing her arrival with three sharp knocks. She frowned when nobody answered. After a full minute with no response, she tightened her smile and tried again. As she raised her fist for a third attempt, the door swung open and she found Mancer looking up at her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“It's too early,” he groaned. 

Angelina frowned at his disheveled appearance. “Were you not informed that my lessons were to begin early this morning?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Mancer replied. 

Angelina was confused. “Then why–” 

“I was not informed that your lessons were to begin early this morning,” he explained condescendingly. 

Angelina furrowed her brow. She was about to respond with a scathing retort, but Eclesia’s appearance broke her concentration. 

“Who's at the door, Pericles?” she asked. Her eyes were closed in a loud yawn as she swung the door wider. “It's a little early for visitors,” she mumbled, but once she saw who it was, she was instantly awake. “Oh my! Forgive me my lady, but we are in no way prepared for your presence!” 

She bit her lip and looked around wildly, raking her hands through her hair in an effort to comb it. The floor was dusty and in need of a good sweeping, the bedclothes were rumpled and worn, and the dishes from the previous evening's dinner were still piled in the middle of the table. Eclesia could only hope that Angelina would not wander around outside the cottage and see what was hanging up on the clothesline in the back. 

“No matter,” the Baron's daughter replied evenly, “I shall simply look around outside whilst I wait. After all, it certainly is a beautiful day.” 

Eclesia panicked. “On second thought, why don't you come inside and warm yourself by the fire. It can be quite chilly in the mornings, and I'd hate for my lady to catch a cold.” She said to herself, “Our house isn't too unpresentable.” But this was simply self-justification for their home's disarray, like most household heads say. 

Angelina obliged and stepped into the dirty cottage. The fire in question was now just a handful of coals, but with a pump of the bellows and a few sticks of firewood, Eclesia brought it roaring back to life. Her next step was to cover the table with a spare cloth, and then she ushered her son into the small changing area to get him ready for the day. 

“You should have told me you'd be starting this early!” she whispered harshly, “and to think the young lady herself would come to pick you up. This is nothing short of complete embarrassment!” She groaned to herself, lamenting her lack of foresight and her son's failure at communication. 

“I didn't know either,” Mancer grumbled, but his complaints were lost on her. He sighed as she stuffed him into his best outfit and pushed him out the door without so much as a bite to eat. His mother gave him a big hug and whispered quietly into his ear. 

“Be good,” she warned, and sent him on his way.