A Dove's Tale

Chapter 72

I woke up gradually, warm and comfortable, feeling refreshed and rested for the first time in weeks. The mattress was so soft it felt like I was lying on air. I shifted slightly, enjoying the cozy blankets, the sweet smell of roses, the strong arms wrapped around me…

My eyes snapped open, and there, inches away from me on the pillow, was Prince Chevalier’s sleeping face. And I was using him as a pillow. My hand was next to my cheek on his chest, and I suddenly remembered the dream, remembered curling my fingers into his shirt, and I realized it hadn’t been a dream. Embarrassment flooded my face with heat. I carefully lifted myself off of him and tried to ease out of his arms, but he pulled me closer.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Prince Chevalier, I-I shouldn’t be here,” I stammered.

He sighed and rolled over onto his side, nuzzling into my hair. “Go back to sleep,” he muttered.

My heart was pounding uncontrollably. I was hyper-aware of him surrounding me, his breath on my neck, his heart beating against mine, and I pushed back from him. “Prince Chevalier-”

He groaned irritably, and his arms loosened as he pulled back to settle his cheek on the pillow. His crystal blue eyes opened and met mine.

“You couldn’t let me sleep in today.”

“T-today?” I asked hesitantly.

He nodded and removed one hand from my back to brush my hair behind my ear. “You fell asleep yesterday morning, Ivetta.”

I didn’t know which stunned me more: the news that I’d been asleep for twenty-four hours, or him using my name again. It took me a moment to realize his finger was tracing around the back of my ear to my jaw, down to my chin, and his eyes were following its path intently. I stared at him in silence, unable to move or even breathe as my heart beat a frantic rhythm against my ribs. His thumb brushed across my lips, and he cupped my cheek in his hand, his eyes flicking back up to mine. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing, and he muttered, “The gala is over for you, anyway.”

Then he opened his eyes and leaned in to kiss me.

His lips were soft and warm against mine, his kiss gentle and brief, and I think my heart exploded. When he pulled back, his face had relaxed, and a smile curved at the corners of his lips.

“Good morning, Ivetta.”

I swallowed hard, words failing me as he settled back against the pillow, his gaze fond and his thumb stroking my cheek.

“You didn’t want to stay home,” he said quietly.

The reminder of the empty house, that empty bed, brought a lump to my throat, and I shook my head, burying my face in his chest. He held me close and stroked my hair while the tears fell down my cheeks again. I didn’t know how there could be any more, after the amount I’d cried the past two days, but there was no stopping them.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I finally asked in a choked voice when the tears ended and all that remained was a hole in my chest.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he replied soothingly. “I have it all under control.”

I nodded and turned my head to the side, resting my cheek against his damp shirt and closing my eyes, letting my thoughts fade away in the comfort of his embrace. His arm around my shoulders, his hand tight on my upper arm; his fingers threading through my hair, free from the ribbon, whether from it coming undone while I slept or from him untying it, I didn’t know; the steady rise and fall of his chest with his breath as mine gradually evened out. Nothing made sense anymore, but here, for a little while, that didn’t matter.

I couldn’t stay here, though. Beyond the obvious fact that the gala was ongoing and Prince Chevalier had guests and duties to attend to, I hadn’t gone to the bathroom in over twenty-four hours. And my body wouldn’t let me ignore it much longer.

“Prince Chevalier?”

“Yes?”

“I…I have to get up.”

He kissed the top of my head and released me. I sat up, averting my gaze to the blankets covering my lap as he sat up beside me, his hand stroking down my hair one more time before he got out of bed. His footsteps padded away to the bureau, and I scooted to the other side of the bed, swinging my feet down to the floor and realizing with a start that my skirt had ridden up while I slept. I glanced furtively toward him, facing away from me as he opened the bureau drawers, and I stood up quickly, tugging my skirt into place.

“Here.”

I looked over at him as he turned back to me, carrying a brown paper package in his hand.

“You…you bought something for me?” I asked in a small voice, looking from the store-wrapped package to his warm blue eyes. He smiled and nodded.

“Take a bath. I’ll have breakfast sent up.”

I couldn’t move, staring up into eyes that weren’t cold at all, eyes that were only tender, only filled with me, and the question slipped out in a whisper before I thought about it.

“Why are you doing all this?”

He stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of my head as he pressed his forehead into mine, his arm wrapping around my waist.

“Do you have to ask?”

His hand slid around to my chin, tilting it up, and his breath ghosted across my lips with his words: “I love you, Ivetta.”

My breath caught in my throat. His lips covered mine, warm and soft, and I closed my eyes and hesitantly returned the kiss. He smiled against my lips, pressing in a little more than he had before, but he pulled back within a few seconds. I exhaled slowly, opening my eyes to look shyly up at him. He was still smiling.

“Take your time. I’m in no rush.”

I think I floated into the bathroom. The mirror told me I was a mess, and it couldn’t even see inside me. I set the package down next to the towels and started the water, discarding my three-day-old clothes on the floor and gingerly settling into the cold porcelain bathtub as hot water pooled around my toes. Goosebumps rose on my skin while I waited for the water to rise. I stared up at the ceiling, watching the steam drifting upwards. This was what Mother wanted. She wanted me to be taken care of after she died. She saw a future for me with Prince Chevalier, but she wasn’t in it. The heaviness of her loss weighed down on my chest, and I slumped down into the rising water. Worries threatened to crowd into my mind again. I dipped under the water as soon as it was high enough, shook my head clear, and sat up again, reaching over to turn the water off. One thing at a time. Right now, I was taking a bath. When I finished, I’d open the package. One thing at a time.

If only it was that easy to shut my mind off.

Soaking in the hot water helped me feel better, but I kept looking over at the package, nervous anticipation fluttering in my stomach. It had to be clothes, something he bought while I was asleep. I tried not to think about how he knew my size and instead imagined what it might be. Nothing too extravagant, I hoped. Just because I was tentatively opening the door to a relationship with him didn’t mean I was ready for an elaborate ball gown.

How could I be his maid and his lover?

That was something I didn’t want to think about right now. My body wasn’t tired anymore, but my mind and my emotions were still a turbulent, exhausting mess, and I couldn’t sort them out just yet. It was easier to step out of the tub, listen to the water draining away, feel the softness of the towels against my skin, and untie the scratchy twine binding the crinkly brown paper package. Here and now. That was all, and it was enough.

It was a dress. Prettier than anything I had, but nothing a noblewoman would wear. Belle had one just like it. I held it by the shoulders, letting it unfold in front of me, and bit my lip nervously. The long red skirt blended into a gold belt from the hips to just under the bust, laced over the lower back with gold. A section of black fabric wrapped around the chest and mid-back, and above that was a strip of white over the upper back with a few buttons. Managing the fastenings by myself would be tricky. I stepped into it, pulling my arms through the long white sleeves and reaching around behind me for the laces. They weren’t too difficult. Next were the buttons. I had to reach back over my shoulders for those, feeling along the edges of the fabric and counting buttons and slots until I reached the bottom-most one of each. When I finished, I dropped my hands to my sides and took a deep breath before looking in the mirror.

It had been a long time since I tried to look good. Being pretty was a problem for a vulnerable girl trying to avoid attention from men like Jack, so I never did more than try to look presentable, except for Sunday mornings - before Mother got sick, of course. That was the only time we got to play with each other’s hair and giggle about dressing up for church. I couldn’t help but smile, looking in the mirror this morning. The dress fit well and really made me feel pretty, even with my wet hair falling in a tangle over one shoulder. I found Prince Chevalier’s hair brush and got to work straightening the mess out. With no ribbons or pins, there wasn’t much more I could do with it. Not that Prince Chevalier would mind, I thought with a blush, remembering him threading his fingers through my hair.

He loved me. Before I took a bath, when my hair was a tangled mess and I smelled like I hadn’t bathed in three days because I hadn’t, he loved me. How was I supposed to act, knowing that?

He was sitting on the sofa, fully dressed and reading, but he closed the book and looked up at me as soon as I opened the door. I couldn’t hold his gaze, dropping it to look down at my skirt as I smoothed it unnecessarily.

“Thank you, Prince Chevalier,” I said shyly. “It’s really pretty.”

“It suits you,” he replied, a smile in his voice. “Come and sit.”

He’d pulled the chair out from his writing desk, which was laden with enough breakfast for both of us. I obeyed hesitantly. It felt strange for him to be waiting on me. And although the dirty plate off to the side said he’d eaten already, there was still a lot of food.

“This is too much for me,” I said, looking up at him.

“You need to eat,” he insisted, brushing his fingers against my shoulders as he removed his hands from the back of the chair.

I looked back at the food and forced myself to pick up the fork. Of course, he noticed my weight loss. Between skipping meals from lack of time and a gut-wrenching anxiety that turned my stomach, I hadn’t eaten well since I started working at the palace. The effect hadn’t been as obvious at first, but over the past couple of weeks, I’d taken pains to arrange my uniform and tie my apron in a way that I hoped hid the truth. But I knew it hadn’t worked. Every casual comment from a prince about how I weighed nothing reminded me I wasn’t fooling anybody.

Prince Chevalier was sitting on the sofa again, reading, judging by the sound of an occasional page turning behind me. I picked at the food and forced a few bites down, but I still didn’t have an appetite. The doctor said something about my weight, too, when he examined me the night before. No, two nights ago. When Mrs. Stotts was there, trying to comfort me. She wanted me to stay at her house that night. And she tried to stop me from going to the palace the next morning…

“I need to go home,” I said quietly, giving up on the food and setting the fork down. “There are some things I need to do.”

“All that remains is for you to collect your things,” Prince Chevalier replied, closing the book and setting it aside as I looked back at him. “I handled the rest.”

I couldn’t even comprehend what ‘the rest’ was. It was probably best that he took care of whatever it was.

“I need to apologize to my neighbor, Mrs. Stotts. I…wasn’t very nice to her.”

Prince Chevalier stood up and walked to the door. “She sent that boy you mentioned before to check on you.”

“Jason?” I asked, standing up and following Prince Chevalier. This, at least, felt normal, habitual, if I didn’t think too hard about what I was wearing and the circumstances that surrounded my being in his room.

“Yes,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside for me to pass first. “She was worried, but not upset.”

“I didn’t think she’d be upset, but…I just need to apologize.”

Somehow, we made it to the front gate and a carriage without crossing paths with another prince. Whether Prince Chevalier arranged it that way, or I just didn’t see them because I kept my eyes mostly on the floor, I wasn’t sure. Then we were on the carriage, sitting side-by-side, and I was looking out the window, watching the familiar scenery pass me by. This was the end of one chapter in my life. I wasn’t just losing Mother. If I moved into the palace, I would lose the Stotts, too, and the memories in that little house, and swimming in the river on hot summer evenings. Visiting every so often wouldn’t be the same.