A Dove's Tale

Chapter 27

The image staring back at me from Prince Chevalier’s bathroom mirror was not pretty, and not just because the shattered glass reflected it back to me many times over, painted with blood. I straightened my hair and my dress, but my eyes were red and puffy, and only time would resolve that. Then there was the pure rage written all over my face - hard green eyes, deeply furrowed brow, tightly clenched jaw. Time wouldn’t touch that. Neither would the deep breathing I usually relied upon to calm me.

How dare he do that?

I shoved the door open. He was still standing in the spot where I left him, frozen in place, but I brushed past him without so much as a glance and left for the kitchens. I took a detour to avoid as many people as possible, doing my best to keep my head down so nobody would see that I’d been crying. His breakfast wasn’t ready yet. I snatched a tray at random and headed back to his room. If it wasn’t what he wanted, oh well. I didn’t hesitate at the door, just let myself in and set the breakfast tray on his desk. He stood at the window with his back to me, fully dressed now. I ignored him and started making the bed.

“You are a fool to return,” he finally said coldly.

“You’re making assumptions without all the information, Prince Chevalier,” I said, matching his icy tone. “I have weighed my options, and unfortunately, this is the best one for me at the moment.”

“Come here.”

I froze in place at his sharp command, bent over the bed, but I lifted my head and met his cold blue eyes defiantly.

“You’d better not touch me,” I warned.

“I won’t.”

I approached cautiously, and he nodded toward the window. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes landed on an unmistakable pool of blood covering a large section of pathway down below in the gardens.

“Do you understand now?” he asked quietly.

“You could have just told me,” I said bitterly, turning from the window.

“What were your other options?”

I bit my lip. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know. It was none of his business. But he probably wouldn’t let me leave if I didn’t tell him, and if he tried to touch me again, I was going to hit him.

“Stay here and risk death by proxy; leave here, pick up multiple jobs to maintain Mother’s care, and not be able to spend any time with her; or leave here, find another brothel, earn potentially more money, but not be able to look Mother in the eye anymore. There is really only one choice.”

“Even if I make you clean the blood up?”

My stomach did a backflip again at the thought of it.

“I’ll already be cleaning plenty of blood up,” I reminded him flatly. His laundry, his bathroom, the gardens…

“I’m sorry.”

I whirled to face him, glaring up into those icy blue eyes. They betrayed no emotion at all, but his words echoed in the air.

“You should be,” I said firmly. “You knew exactly how much that would scare me, and you did it anyway. That was cruel and malicious. Why couldn’t you just tell me? You didn’t have to do that. You have no idea what it’s like to be so completely helpless and vulnerable, knowing that there’s nothing you can do to stop somebody else from hurting you. And when it’s someone you trusted - and I couldn’t even fight you. Even while you were doing it, I couldn’t believe it was happening. Do you know how much that hurts? That you would treat me like that - like a common w***e - when I thought you cared about me? And I don’t want to hear you throwing the Brutal Beast at me again. You’re just using that to justify mistreating people. If people don’t matter - if emotions don’t matter - then why do you even bother with me at all?”

His hand reached out for me, and I slapped it away.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

He pulled it back, but his expression didn’t change, and he didn’t speak. I hadn’t thought I had any tears left, but they sprung to my eyes again. There was no stopping the angry torrent of words now. I’d never felt so betrayed, and he had to know exactly what he’d done to me.

“Don’t you ever touch me again. You’ve lost that privilege. I don’t care who you are, or who you think you are. I’m not a toy, or a tool, or your pet. I’m a person, and I have a name, and maybe you don’t have to use it, but you will not treat me like that ever again. I don’t want your charity, and I don’t want your sympathy, but I demand your respect. If you can’t give me that, then at least don’t pretend. Tell me flat out, so I know exactly where I stand. Or, better yet, just cut me down right here. What’s a little more blood, right? Since I don’t matter, anyway. Because it was all lies, wasn’t it? I’m nothing more than the dirt on your boot to you. Can I even believe a single word you said to me? Why did you have to make me think I had any value, just to tear it all away and laugh in my face? Don’t lie to me anymore. Just say it to my face, so I can crawl back in the gutter where I belong.”

“Stop,” he said firmly, his eyes flashing.

“No, I won’t stop. Because maybe, if I keep going like this, you’ll just put me out of my misery once and for all, and then you can go find yourself a new playmate. Maybe you can pick up one of Jack’s girls. Just tell Prince Leon you’re going to take care of her like you took care of me.”

“Stop!” he shouted, but he didn’t make a move toward me.

“What, does it bother you? Does it hurt to hear the truth? Or maybe you’ve been lying to yourself, not me. Maybe you do have a heart, and maybe you do have emotions, and maybe you do care about me. It doesn’t make a difference to me, anyway. I’m only here until my mother dies. Once she’s gone, I’ll be out of your life, and you’ll just be a horrible memory that I wish I could forget.”

My head was throbbing, and this shouting wasn’t helping. His eyes were wide with shock. I was shaking all over, my cheeks wet with tears, but I was running out of steam. And my own words were stinging in my ears.

“Are you finished?” he asked coolly, his eyes narrowing again.

I shook my head, breathing hard. “Not yet. Not by a long shot. But there aren’t enough words to express how angry I am right now, how deeply you hurt me.”

I took a deep, shaky breath, hugging myself as I looked away from him. “And the worst part is, you don’t know any better. Death and bloodshed are normal, everyday occurrences for you, and for once in your life, that bothers you. But you couldn’t just tell me. This was your idea of a solution. I want to be mad at you, but even now, I can’t help but feel sorry for you.”

My voice was gradually becoming more steady as the adrenaline rush faded, leaving emptiness behind. I looked back up at him, into his pale blue eyes. They were wavering again, unsure what they were supposed to be expressing.

“So I’m just going to say it. I’m sorry,” I said, practically spitting the words like they burned in my mouth. “I said too much, and I went too far. And unlike you, I knew better.”

My knees felt weak. I collapsed on the edge of the bed, closing my eyes and massaging my temples. “And I am sorry for you, Prince Chevalier. You have everything, and you have nothing, all at the same time. And I know you don’t want my sympathy, but you still have it.” Another deep breath, and I nodded, opening my eyes again to look up at him. “Now I’m finished.”

His cold blue eyes regarded me in silence for a moment. “Say what you like to me, but don’t ever talk about yourself like that again.”

I had known those words would wound him more deeply than all the rest. But they were double-edged, and they had cut me just as much. I swallowed hard, dropping my hands to my sides to dig into the sheets.

“I won’t.”

He let out a sigh. “You realize you’re the only one who can speak to me this way.”

I probably was, wasn’t I?

“Well, that’s your own fault,” I said dryly. “Sit down.”

He didn’t move, and I glared up at him. His pale blue eyes were wide with surprise and uncertainty.

“I said, sit down,” I repeated sharply, patting the bed next to me. “I need to look at your hand.”

He shook his head, but I grabbed his left wrist and yanked him down beside me.

“You’re not-”

“Shut up,” I snapped, releasing his left wrist and reaching across him to grab his right wrist, holding it with one hand while I pulled the glove off. “You’re not doing either of us any good by hurting yourself.”

He’d really done a number on himself. Glass had sliced the still healing bruises leftover from Jack’s beating wide open. But I didn’t see any remnants of glass shards, and nothing looked deep enough to warrant stitches. He stared at me in silence as I felt along his fingers for any breaks.

“At least you had the sense to clean the glass out. You’re lucky you didn’t break a finger,” I continued scolding him. “But you won’t need any stitches.” I sighed and looked back up at him. “What about your feet? Did you step on any glass?”

He shook his head, speechless.

I frowned. “You’d better not be lying to me.”

“I’m not,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“No, I guess you’re not, or I’d have bloody footprints to clean up, too,” I said coolly. “I could get ointment and bandages and tend to this myself, but you’ve given me plenty of extra work to do already, so you'll have to go to a doctor about this.”

I released his hand, but I took his glove and put it in an apron pocket. “And you can have this back after you see the doctor. If you’ll excuse me - your highness,” I said bitingly, standing up and straightening the drapes.

I went into the bathroom and got to work. My head was still pounding. That wouldn’t go away until I got some sleep, I knew, but it was just the beginning of the day. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, and I was already exhausted - and my throat was sore from shouting. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any more trouble today. There wouldn’t be from Prince Chevalier, anyway. I’d given him more than enough reason to be angry with me, but he really did care, in spite of himself. I didn’t know how I felt about that, and I didn’t have the strength to think about it, either.

He was gone when I finished in the bathroom. I left, too, taking his clothes down to the laundry. The bloody garments were probably a hopeless cause, but maybe I could salvage them if I started soaking them right away. I started that process and prepared myself for the next task with a bucket of water, soap, and a scrub brush. My stomach turned at the thought of touching that blood, but I was just a maid, and this was just my job.