A Dove's Tale

Chapter 22

Thanks to the carriage, I arrived home earlier than usual. That wouldn’t help me convince Mother everything was fine. She had always read me better than even Prince Chevalier, and constant fatigue and pain didn’t change that. If anything, her illness just lulled me into a false sense of security until she had a good day and I found out she knew everything. Jack had been the only secret I could keep, and today, I was so tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally, that I was in real danger of slipping and letting her find out. I took a minute outside our door for a few deep breaths to compose myself and to paste a smile on my face before I headed inside.

“Hello, Ivetta,” she greeted me when I walked in, giving me a tired smile from her seat at the table. There was a gray tinge to her complexion, and though she was sitting, she looked like she might pass out at any moment.

“Hello, Mother,” I said, going straight to her and giving her a hug. “You look tired. Why don’t you lie down for a bit while I get dinner ready?”

I was already helping her to her feet, not waiting for her answer. She couldn’t reply, anyway, not when her breathing became more labored just from the effort of taking the few steps to the bed, even while leaning heavily on me for support. But her hand caught mine as she lay down, and I sat beside her, knowing she wanted to talk as soon as she got her breath back, hoping she wouldn’t say anything about my early arrival today, my late arrival yesterday, or my winter uniform…

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said cheerfully, giving her the best smile I could muster.

“Yes, you do,” she chided, her voice becoming a little stronger as she lay still.

I bit my lip nervously. What could I say to belay her worry?

“That’s your tell,” she said softly with a gentle smile.

I released my lip and sighed. “It’s really nothing for you to worry about.”

“Where you are involved, I always worry.” She gave my hand a weak squeeze. “I may be sick, but I’m not blind.”

I stood up quickly and crossed the room to the little kitchen area. “What would you like for dinner?” I asked.

She chuckled softly behind me. “You’ll tell Prince Chevalier, but you won’t tell your own mother?”

My cheeks immediately flushed, and I was glad my back was to her. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t want to tell him, either.”

“He really likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Mother!”

“I’m not deaf, either, Ivetta. I heard the carriage.”

At least she couldn’t see me biting my lip again.

“He likes anybody who does a good job.”

“But he doesn’t take everybody into town for festivals, or to the palace gardens to read, does he?” she asked teasingly.

I knew I shouldn’t have told her anything about that.

“I think you have a wild imagination, Mother,” I said coolly as the heat spread from my cheeks to my ears. “That was a national holiday, and I’m his personal maid, that’s all.”

She chuckled again. “Ivetta, you’re very good at playing the part of a naïve child, but I know you much better than that.”

“And you know that the mere suggestion of any sort of relationship between a maid and a prince is preposterous. This is the real world, not a fairy tale,” I retorted.

She sighed. “Well, let a dying woman dream.”

“Mother…”

“Not saying it won’t change it, Ivetta. I just want to make sure you’ll be taken care of after I-”

“Please stop,” I interrupted, swallowing down the lump that always came to my throat when she talked like this. “I know, and I don’t want to talk about it.” I swallowed again and took a deep breath. “But I’ll be fine. There’s plenty of room in the servants’ quarters at the palace, and I won’t have to worry about paying for room and board either, so I’ll be able to pay off any remaining debt to the doctor without a problem.”

“Unless Prince Chevalier pays it for you.”

I spun to face her, surprised. Her green eyes, so similar to mine, bore a mischievous sparkle in her unnaturally pale face.

“How did you know about that?” I gasped.

“The doctor comes by to see me sometimes when you’re gone, and he mentioned it,” she said, grinning. “You can’t say that’s something Prince Chevalier does for all of his competent employees, can you?”

I turned back to the stove quickly. “No, I guess I can’t. But that still doesn’t mean what you’re implying.”

“Even if it doesn’t, I’m just glad you took my advice and applied to work at the palace. I was hoping you’d be assigned to somebody like Prince Leon, and I must admit I was worried when you ended up with Prince Chevalier, but this has turned out much better than I expected.”

I sighed. “Well, it wasn’t really advice, Mother. You all but ordered me to apply there.”

“And I all but ordered you to move in there, too, but you didn’t do that,” she reminded me.

“Of course not. I’m not leaving you here alone, and I’m not risking your health by moving you. There’s no way you can make that walk.”

“What if you asked Prince Chevalier for a carriage?” she asked teasingly.

I turned to set the table, blushing furiously. “You’re not dropping this, are you?”

“Let me dream, Ivetta,” she said, her tired smile frustratingly difficult to dispute.

I sighed again. “Well, I can’t really stop you, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” she agreed smugly. “But I’ll make a deal with you.”

I pursed my lips and put my hands on my hips, pretending to be upset, but I was having a hard time not smiling. Mother hadn’t felt well enough to talk like this for a while.

“I’ll try not to tease you too much if you promise me you’ll show the journal to Prince Chevalier after I’m gone.”

My jaw dropped open involuntarily as my eyes widened. “What?”

“Just promise me, Ivetta,” she said, suddenly serious.

I finally nodded, although I couldn’t fathom what Prince Chevalier would want with my father’s journal.

“Good.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I think I’ll rest a little before dinner.”

“I’ll wake you when it’s ready,” I said in a forced cheerful tone, turning back to the stove and trying not to think too much about the journal and Prince Chevalier.

My head was throbbing.

All day, I’d been telling myself I couldn’t think about the way Prince Chevalier was treating me because it was too complicated and I was too overwhelmed to deal with it, but it was really quite simple. He liked me. That also explained his teasing, why he didn’t like his brothers around me, and the festival. I didn’t want to acknowledge the truth because my life was difficult enough without that added complication. I had no time for a relationship, and I certainly wouldn’t pin my hopes on something as far-fetched as a prince falling in love with me. Prince Chevalier liked me for the same reason his brothers liked me. They saw me as attractive, and I challenged them. It was a problem, and one that I couldn’t think about right now. My head hurt too much, and Mother had to be my focus. That couldn’t change. Tonight, I was taking care of her, and after I got some sleep, I’d figure out the situation with Prince Chevalier.

I didn’t get much sleep, thanks to the nightmares that always plagued me after a traumatic experience. Like every incident with Jack. I only hoped I didn’t talk in my sleep this time. But, if I did, Mother didn’t tell me in the morning. The return to her usual talkative, optimistic, teasing self had been costly, and she was too tired to talk. I got to spend a little extra time tidying up the house and worrying about her while I waited for the carriage to arrive, although every minute past my usual departure time of seven o’clock made me more and more nervous. If the carriage didn’t come, I would be very late. I had to keep reminding myself that Prince Chevalier knew how much time a carriage would need to get me to the palace by eight o’clock - or the coachman who dropped me off yesterday afternoon knew that, anyway. I wouldn’t be late, and even if I was, Prince Chevalier wouldn’t be mad at me.

Because he liked me.

How was I going to deal with him?

The mask. I needed to craft a good little maid mask, put it on when I walked into the palace, and keep it on until I left. Everything had to be strictly professional. Eventually, he would lose interest, and that would be that.

I wasn’t late to the palace. The cook knew Prince Chevalier’s breakfast order by now, so I skipped the kitchens and went straight to his room to clean. Today was a new day, a fresh start, and I was going to stick to the normal routine as much as possible. Yesterday didn’t happen.

Especially all the hugging.

His bath soaps and cologne were all rose-scented. I knew that, but I’d never paid much attention before. When I was crying, I couldn’t smell it, thanks to the stuffy, runny nose that came along with the tears, but I definitely smelled it when he embraced me in his library, and again in the courtyard when I hugged him. The soothing scent permeated his room and brought to mind those few minutes in his library, his hand on my arm, his other under my chin, the look of frustration in his eyes just before he hugged me, his breath on my ear as he told me this never happened, the solidity of his chest, the security of his arms.

Those thoughts did not go with the mask. I willed them out the window when I tied the drapes back at nine o’clock.

“Good morning, Prince Chevalier,” I called, heading toward the bureau for his clothes. “Did you sleep well?”

I winced inwardly. That was probably too intimate a question for a maid trying to distance herself from her master. I mentally reprimanded myself and turned back to the sofa with a stack of clothes in my arms. He had pushed back the covers and was stretching languidly.

“Yes. Did you?” he asked.

His knuckles were bruised. I stood frozen, staring at the purple splotches.

“Your hands.”

He sighed and got out of bed, frowning as he walked up to me.

“You’re too observant,” he commented, stopping in front of me and taking the clothes. “But perhaps you’re trying to avoid the question.”

I hadn’t been trying to avoid it, actually, but I felt a sudden warmth in my cheeks as I looked up at his cold blue eyes. He was too close, close enough for the smell of roses to wrap around me and remind me of every embrace yesterday, starting with the shock of his arms pulling me close when we sat on the same sofa we were standing next to right now. I quickly took a step back from him.

“You’re also too observant, your highness. I’ll be right back with your breakfast.”

He didn’t stop me from leaving, which was just as well. I didn’t want to tell him about the nightmares that kept me up most of the night, and I didn’t want to hear about how he beat Jack before he killed him. Everything needed to go back to normal. I would get Prince Chevalier’s breakfast, take it back to his room, set his desk like usual, make his bed, and then I would clean in the bathroom while he ate breakfast. We didn’t even have to talk. It would be better if we didn’t.

But I needed to tell him I didn’t want the carriage rides to continue.

He came out of the bathroom as I was finishing making his bed, and I seized the opportunity to talk to him before I lost my nerve.

“Prince Chevalier,” I started.

He didn’t respond, although he glanced over at me as he headed to his desk.

“Thank you again for everything yesterday, and for the carriage this morning, but I’d rather walk home tonight.”

“Have you forgotten what I told you?” he said irritably, taking his seat.

“No, I haven’t, but I’m just thinking about my mother, your highness.”

“Surely, your mother doesn’t expect anything to come from a simple carriage ride,” he scoffed, immediately understanding my implication.

I sighed as heat rose in my cheeks again. “Well, she is my mother, after all, your highness.”

He didn’t reply, so I went into the bathroom, hoping that meant he wouldn’t force the issue. He was gone when I finished there. I breathed a sigh of relief and collected his dirty dishes. That had gone fairly well, but there was a level of familiarity between us that could prove problematic. I needed to be very careful when I talked to him, and I needed to manage my thoughts better.

The rest of that day and the next were, thankfully, uneventful and devoid of carriage rides. I settled back into the daily routine and tried to forget about what had happened - try being the operative word. I was hyper-aware of every little sound during the suddenly agonizingly long walk to and from the palace, and I still took a detour around the red-light district.

There were a lot more guards on my walk than usual.

I didn’t see any princes except Prince Chevalier over those two days. While I appreciated the break, I wasn’t naïve enough to think they were all suddenly too busy to bother me. Prince Chevalier must have told them to leave me alone. He was back to his cold, imperious manner, but it was the little things that spoke the loudest of his thoughts and motivations. Like the guards, his brothers, and the distinct lack of any teasing.

It was too easy to feel comfortable around him.