A Dove's Tale

Chapter 24

The princes left me alone after that, and I finished the floors in relative peace and quiet. At least, it was quiet in the library. My head wasn’t so peaceful. Between chewing myself out, puzzling through Prince Nokto’s words, refusing to think about Prince Chevalier, and wondering what I was in for with Prince Yves, there was little room for me to think of anything else.

Lesson learned. Never let my guard down in the palace, and never, never relax around Prince Chevalier.

Moving on to a safer topic: Prince Nokto.

Funny that he was the safe topic.

He called Prince Yves ‘Evie,’ a cutesy pet name I would expect someone to give to a younger sibling, but Prince Yves was older than Prince Nokto. And Prince Nokto called himself the court jester. What did he mean by that? If anything, Prince Clavis was more of a jester than Prince Nokto.

And, oh, my goodness, Prince Nokto was good at what he did. I blushed all over again just thinking about how easily he affected me.

Everything would be fine with Prince Yves, though, right? He’d never made any weird advances towards me. We were just baking beignets for Mother. That was all.

When were we baking?

He said he’d clear his afternoon for this, but it didn’t take four hours to make beignets. I also wasn’t sure if I was supposed to wait in the library for him, or if I was supposed to go look for him in the kitchens. There were quite a few, though, and I didn’t know which one he wanted to use.

I decided to just wait in the library and keep working until he came to get me. It seemed the safest decision at first, but as the minutes ticked by and two thirty got closer and closer, I got more and more nervous. I didn’t know what to expect from Prince Chevalier after that near kiss earlier. Heat rushed to my face at the thought of it. He nearly kissed me. And there was a tiny little part of me that wished I hadn’t stopped him. A very, very tiny part that had no roots in reality and maybe spent too much time fantasizing about fairy tales and romance novels. The larger part of me said I would never be more than a good time for a prince, and that cooled my cheeks significantly.

Fortunately, Prince Yves arrived at two o’clock, and even though his haughty and irritable expression was in full play, I immediately felt a sense of relief that I wouldn’t be in the library when Prince Chevalier arrived.

“If you want to leave on time, we’d better get started,” Prince Yves said condescendingly.

“Of course, your highness. I’m really looking forward to this.” I gave him a bright smile, knowing he was probably putting on a show. It suddenly clicked in my brain. At the festival, Prince Chevalier had said something about the funnel cake being not as good as the Showoff’s. I hadn’t paid attention or even thought about that offhand comment until now, but it made sense. Prince Yves liked to bake, and he was showy, from the top of his perfectly styled honey-blonde head to the bottoms of his maroon boots.

“I should hope so. It’s not every day a prince takes the time out of his busy schedule to help a maid with a recipe.”

He kept up the act all the way to the kitchens, but I knew it was an act, so it didn’t bother me. I was more concerned about how we were going to find the space to bake. The kitchens were always busy. But I didn’t ask, and when I followed him into one of the smaller kitchens, it was completely empty.

“Prince Yves, where is everybody?” I asked, looking around in surprise.

“I never share my kitchen when I’m baking,” he said scornfully.

“No, of course not. My apologies, your highness,” I replied, trying not to smile. He didn’t just clear his schedule; he also reserved an entire kitchen for this. That was very thoughtful of him.

“What do you remember of the recipe?” he prompted me.

I was immediately glad that I ran through it in my head earlier, and I rolled up my sleeves, telling him what I remembered as I collected ingredients and supplies. More came to mind when I said it aloud, and I felt very accomplished when I finished and turned back to him with a smile. But he wasn’t smiling. He was staring at the bruises on my wrists, his deep blue eyes clouded over.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said quietly.

For the second time that day, I felt my whole body stiffen. I hated that all the princes knew about Jack, and I hated even more that I’d forgotten to hide the bruises from Prince Yves.

Time for the mask.

“We’d better get started baking,” I said lightly, turning back to the counter.

Prince Yves didn’t mention the bruises again, although I felt his eyes on my wrists frequently throughout the afternoon. I tried to push my discomfort out of my mind and focus on baking and following his instructions. His recipe differed from Mother’s in that he fried the beignets, and she baked them. We ended up making them both ways. Mother and I couldn’t possibly eat one batch by ourselves, and I suspected the other princes were going to want some, too, so more was better than less.

“Prince Yves, is there some significance to that earring?” I asked at one point.

We’d been chatting casually for a while, and I thought it was a harmless enough question. He wore a single earring in his left ear, an alternating string of red and black stones with a long red tassel at the bottom that reached to his shoulder.

His sudden silence made me regret the question.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” I said quickly, glancing up at his stony expression. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said with a sigh. “It belonged to my mother.”

There was an unmistakable sadness in his voice, and it brought a sympathetic pang to my heart.

“Oh, I see.” I hesitated, but I ventured another question. “Were you close to her, your highness?”

“I never knew her. She died when I was born.” He paused, and then he asked quizzically, “Chevalier didn’t tell you about her?”

“No, your highness,” I replied, wondering why he thought Prince Chevalier would talk to me about his mother. Prince Chevalier didn’t even talk about his own mother.

“And you haven’t heard what they say about me in the city?” Prince Yves continued.

I thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so, Prince Yves. I try not to listen to idle gossip, anyway.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so nice to me,” Prince Yves said glumly. “Well, you may as well know. My mother was an Obsidianite princess.”

I looked up at him, surprised. “I didn’t realize Rhodolite was ever on such good terms with Obsidian, but I don’t understand why that would mean I shouldn’t be nice to you, your highness.”

His deep blue eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open. “I’m half-Obsidianite. Doesn't that bother you?”

I shook my head. “You’re a prince of Rhodolite, regardless of who your mother was, Prince Yves. But I suppose not everybody sees it that way. People are quick to make assumptions based on misperceptions.”

I went back to dusting powdered sugar over the freshly fried beignets. It bothered me that people would think badly of him just because of his mother, but I was familiar with that sort of suspicion. I’d grown up with it, too.

“Things weren’t always so bad with Obsidian,” he finally said quietly. “And my mother’s marriage to the king of Rhodolite was supposed to make things better. But she’d always been sickly, and she died in childbirth. Her retinue was recalled to Obsidian, and they left me here.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Prince Yves,” I said genuinely.

“Obsidian effectively abandoned me, but nothing official was signed, so I am technically still a prince of Rhodolite and a prince of Obsidian,” he continued.

I shook my head again, looking up and meeting his sad blue eyes. “Maybe that’s true, but you’re a prince of Rhodolite, Prince Yves. And I know you’re loyal because Prince Chevalier trusts you.”

Prince Yves’ eyes widened again. “Did he say that?”

“No, but he wouldn’t have agreed to let me spend the afternoon with you if he didn’t.”

“Hey, what smells so good?”

Prince Yves and I looked at the door in surprise as Prince Jin poked his head in.

“Nothing for you,” Prince Yves said emphatically, crossing his arms over his chest.

I smiled as I removed another batch of beignets from the oven. “It’s alright, Prince Yves. There’s too much for Mother and me, anyway. But you’ll have to wait a few minutes for these to cool, Prince Jin.”

“Great! Then you won’t mind a bit more company, too!”

Prince Jin sauntered in, followed by Prince Leon.

“What are you all doing here?” Prince Yves gasped as I dusted the baked beignets with powdered sugar.

“Well, we all knew you were going to be baking this afternoon,” Prince Leon said with a wide grin. “I figure the others will be here soon, too.”

“Why - you-”

“I really don’t mind, Prince Yves,” I interrupted him as I started on the dishes.

“So, what’s the verdict, Evie?” Prince Nokto said as he made his entrance. “Is any of this going to be edible?”

“Of course it is!” he sputtered. “She’s as good a chef as I am!”

“Now, that’s high praise,” Prince Clavis commented as he joined the group.

“Are they ready yet?” Prince Luke asked, bounding in behind Prince Clavis.

“They should be,” I confirmed. “But watch your fingers.”

“Hold on!” Prince Yves exclaimed, stopping his brothers in their tracks. “I’d better set some aside for you and your mother before there aren’t any left.”

“Maybe you should try one first, Prince Yves,” I said. “It’s been a while since I’ve done any baking. If they’re not good, I certainly don’t want to take them home and disappoint Mother. This is her recipe, after all.”

He screwed up his face in a scowl, but he took a beignet and bit into it.

“Perfect,” he said, a look of sheer ecstasy spreading across his face.

That simple word triggered a stampede of princes. They swarmed the beignets, and I watched with amusement as six grown men turned into hungry children, demolishing the pastries at an alarming rate.

“Leave some for Prince Chevalier and Prince Licht, too!” I reminded them.

Six heads turned toward me in surprise.

“Why?” Prince Clavis asked.

“Because I promised some to Prince Chevalier, and I’m sure Prince Licht would want some, too, your highness.” I dried my hands with a towel and went to another oven. “And I guessed this might happen, so I made another batch.”

“When did you do that?” Prince Yves asked as I removed the tray from the oven.

Prince Clavis laughed. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Well - I-”

“Maybe he was too busy paying attention to other things,” Prince Nokto commented.

“There’s no need to save any for Licht,” Prince Leon said, saving me from lingering on Prince Nokto’s suggestive statement. “He’s been working nonstop since-”

He stopped suddenly, and a heavy silence settled in the room. I clenched my jaw as I dusted the second batch with powdered sugar, wishing I’d thought to roll my sleeves down when the other princes arrived. They were all too observant to miss the bruises, and I felt the weight of their stares bearing down on me.

I really hated this.

“Well, I don’t have too much more time before I have to leave, but I’ll take it that at least the first batch turned out okay,” I said cheerfully, holding my mask steady and pushing my sleeves down.

“Better than okay!” Prince Luke said enthusiastically, crumbs falling onto his shirt from his full mouth.

“Thank you, Prince Luke.”

Faking a smile almost made me feel happy. Or maybe that was just Prince Luke’s boyish grin. I retrieved a pot of boiling water from the fireplace and poured it over some tea leaves in a kettle, thinking of how I could distract the rest of the princes.

“Prince Chevalier only ever wants one cup of tea, so that leaves plenty left over for the rest of you,” I said.

That should get their attention.

“You’re making him tea, too?” Prince Leon asked, surprised.

“It’s better to have something to drink with these, wouldn’t you agree, Prince Jin?” I asked teasingly, glancing over at Prince Jin as he poured himself a glass from a bottle of some sort of alcohol.

Prince Jin laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. So, tell me, when will you be baking again, Ivetta?”

I put a few beignets on the saucer with the teacup and wrapped a few more in a pretty floral cloth Prince Yves had set aside for that purpose. “I suppose you’ll have to ask Prince Chevalier about that, your highness. But the second batch should be ready now. Enjoy!”

I barely escaped the kitchen as the second wave of the stampede rushed the beignets. My mask was still in place, and I took a moment to congratulate myself on that as I carried Prince Chevalier’s tea and beignets in one hand and the bundle for Mother in the other. It seemed like it was easier to handle the princes all at once, or maybe that was just the food keeping them in line.

Or pity.

I sighed and pushed that thought away. My priority right now was maintaining the mask in front of Prince Chevalier. Give him the tea and beignets and then leave. That was all.

At least he didn’t pity me. That was probably the one thing I hated more than feeling vulnerable.