A Dove's Tale

Chapter 47

The door sealing Prince Chevalier inside his private library and away from the main library wasn’t thick enough. I dusted the same shelf three times before I realized what I was doing, and then I moved on to dust another shelf - three times. My mind was a spinning, jumbled fog. And a few minutes to five o’clock, when I normally collected his teacup and said goodbye, it took everything in me to go into that room. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t make eye contact, and I’m not exactly sure what, if anything, I said before I bolted out of there.

It wasn’t until I was walking home, breathing in the fresh spring air, that I could finally think.

This was bad.

Simple attraction was one thing. Flirting was one thing. That was another thing entirely. It went far beyond the teasing that made my heart race and my cheeks flush into very dangerous territory where he not only liked me, but he cared about me. That was why he hated hearing me say I didn’t matter, and that was what had triggered that…consequence? Was that what he meant it to be? Or had he meant to do something else entirely?

That seemed likely, given his frustration.

I couldn’t handle a consequence like that too often. Or ever again. My heart started pounding out of control and heat flooded my cheeks just thinking about it. This had to stop. I was just a maid, and I wasn’t about to settle for being someone’s secret cherished rose. Which meant I couldn’t encourage Prince Chevalier, and I couldn’t let myself end up in a situation like that ever again.

I took a deep breath and shook my head firmly, trying to dislodge the remnants of him clouding my senses. There was something of much greater importance for me to worry about, anyway. I was in danger - and not just from him and my own volatile emotions. Prince Clavis’ party had undoubtedly been the topic of conversation after I left the pair of hostile brothers alone in Prince Chevalier’s private library, and the partygoers were a group of wicked, malcontent traitors, to put together all the colorful terms I’d heard used to describe them. They wanted Prince Chevalier dead. I worked for Prince Chevalier. It wasn’t a stretch to say that made me a target, even though I knew very little about his work. But if anybody thought they could use me to get to him…

It shouldn’t be possible. Whatever anybody said, I was still just a maid, and I didn’t matter in the greater scheme of things. But he did care about me, and that meant I was a weakness. A liability.

I exhaled deeply and stared up at the clear blue sky. What it all boiled down to was this: I needed to get as far away from here - and him - as soon as possible. That would be best for everybody involved.

But I couldn’t go anywhere while Mother was still alive.

The city fell away behind me, and I forced my thoughts from the palace and Prince Chevalier to home and Mother. I had to tend to her, put groceries away, cook dinner, tidy up a bit, and, hopefully, the bucket wouldn’t need any attention. Mother and I discussed it, and it now had a semi-permanent home next to the bed while I was gone, just in case. She hadn’t needed it since the rainstorm, but she was getting so weak, I worried about her getting to the outhouse without help. And she was really weak this morning.

I also needed to make arrangements for her care in the event that something happened to me before she…

My head - and my heart - hurt.

The stench of the bucket hit me as soon as I walked into my house, chasing any remaining thoughts of Prince Chevalier out of my mind. Mother was asleep, pale, and covered in a sheen of sweat. I swallowed down vomit and grabbed the bucket, leaving it on the grass behind the house so I could breathe while I tended to her.

“Mother,” I said, trying to keep any urgency out of my voice as I shook her shoulder.

“Mm…Ivetta?”

Her eyes fluttered open, her irises dull with pain.

“Did you take your medicine?” I asked, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was hot to the touch.

She nodded. “It’s not…helping.”

“Then we’ll just have to get the doctor to prescribe something else,” I said, forcing a cheerful tone and a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nodded again and closed her eyes. My smile vanished as soon as my back was to her. An impromptu doctor visit was not on my list of things to do tonight, but nothing in my life went according to plan anymore. If it ever had.

Midnight found me lying on the grassy hillside, staring up at the patchwork of stars filling the night sky above. The doctor left hours ago, and Mother was finally resting comfortably, now that her new medication had taken effect. The bucket was clean and in its place next to the bed; dinner was cold and untouched on the stove; and I was still in my maid’s uniform. Everything was done. There was nothing left for me to do except go to bed. But the doctor’s gentle warning that this was the last thing he could offer Mother was ringing in my ears. She hadn’t much time left. A few days, a few weeks, if I was lucky.

I probably didn’t need to worry about arranging care for her.

But a lot could happen in a few days, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her dying alone. I’d have to talk to Mrs. Stotts tomorrow. I had to thank her for doing my grocery shopping, anyway, and asking for her family’s promise to help in the worst-case scenario where something happened to me didn’t seem so burdensome anymore. It was only for a few days. If they couldn’t manage it, surely somebody else at church could. It had taken a long time and a lot of hard work on Mother’s part, but we had a small group of people who knew us and cared for us now. Somebody would help.

Wouldn’t they?

I sighed and sat up, hugging my legs to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. The river at the bottom of the hill sparkled in the starlight, shimmering bits of white dancing across the black water. It was a pretty sight, and not one that I saw very often. When Jack was still around, I didn’t go out much at night. I could only do this thanks to Prince Chevalier. He wouldn’t want me to be out here, though. Not alone in the middle of the night, where I was just a small, insignificant figure on the lonely hillside, and anybody or anything could be lying in wait, watching for the opportunity to swoop in and grab me. When I thought about it that way, I could almost feel eyes on me from the forest across the river. But there was something comforting in the dark and the quiet, too, this peaceful world where there were no demands or stresses, where the grass would grow and the river would run, no matter what happened.

It was too much. Mother, the palace, Prince Chevalier - it was too much.

I buried my face in my skirt and cried.

If Prince Chevalier was here, would he hold me again? Like he did after Jack, when I fell apart, and his arms were all that kept me together?

I thought of his feather-light touch, his fingers trailing down my arm as if I were as delicate as porcelain; the slow movement of his hand across my back, giving me plenty of time to push him away and run; the warmth of his embrace when I didn’t. His breath, hot on my neck; his fine, pale blonde hair brushing across my cheek; the softness of those two words, ‘little dove.’

I could almost smell the roses. They made me cry more.

When the tears ran dry, I went back inside, changed into my nightgown, and climbed into bed beside Mother. The few hours left until morning weren’t enough. But a little sleep was better than none, and I needed as much as I could get to maintain the mask and pretend that everything was okay.

I was getting good at that.

“Mm, Ivetta,” Mother mumbled, waking up as I made breakfast.

“Good morning,” I said in my well-practiced fake cheerful tone, looking back over my shoulder to flash her an equally fake smile. It became slightly more realistic when I took in her face, much less pale than the night before, although she sat up with some difficulty. “You look like you’re feeling better this morning.”

She let out a breath of air that I guessed was supposed to be a laugh. “The pain’s better, anyway.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“You didn’t come to bed last night,” she scolded me softly.

I bit my lip, looking down at the eggs scrambling in the pan.

“I did,” I replied. “After you fell asleep.”

“You couldn’t sleep the night before last, either.”

I shrugged. There was nothing I could say to that. It was true.

“You can’t keep going like this, Ivetta,” she said gently.

“I’ll be fine,” I said dismissively, dishing the eggs onto a plate and turning to set them on the table. “Do you-”

She was already trying to stand, and I darted forward to set the eggs on the table and catch her as her legs went out.

“Mother,” I chided, helping her to the table. “Please ask for help.”

She couldn’t reply until she was sitting down. I sat beside her, waiting while she caught her breath, and there was the faintest twinkle in her eyes as she looked at me.

“You saved the eggs.”

I looked from the eggs on the plate to her. “What?”

There was that breath of air again, the laugh she couldn’t quite manage.

“You didn’t drop the eggs.”

“Oh.” I shrugged again, an embarrassed blush creeping into my cheeks. I hadn’t really thought about anything except catching her.

Her hand found mine and squeezed it. “Quick reflexes, even when you’re tired.”

“I guess.”

She patted my hand and turned her attention to the eggs. “But you need sleep.”

“I’m sure I’ll sleep fine tonight,” I reassured her. “Now, eat. I have to go soon.”

Jason answered the door when I stopped at the Stotts’ house a short time later. Little Rachel, who absolutely adored him, was hanging off of his leg, and he was trying to act annoyed.

“Rachel, get off me,” he grumbled, though he didn’t push her away. “Hey, Ivetta.”

“Good morning. Hi, Rachel.”

“Hi, Ivy,” she said in a sing-song voice, her big hazel eyes shining as she smiled up at me and hugged Jason’s leg tighter. “Mommy left Jason in charge.”

“Oh, is she gone?” I asked, smiling at Jason’s predicament. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pursed into a frown, but the corners twitched upward occasionally, betraying the smile he was trying to hide.

“She’s running an errand,” he explained. “Which means I have to deal with this,” he added, nodding his head sideways toward his little sister.

“Pick me up?” she asked hopefully.

“You’re too big,” he said sternly, avoiding my gaze. The tips of his ears were pink.

“Well, tell her thanks for doing my grocery shopping,” I said, turning away. “Bye!”

“What happened with that guy?” he asked, stopping me in my tracks.

“Jason, pick me up!” Rachel interrupted insistently, tugging on his pants.

He groaned irritably. “Fine.” He scooped her up with a very sour expression, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he automatically supported her with one arm and stroked her long, curly brown hair with his other hand, I had a really hard time stifling a giggle at how adorable they looked.

“It was nothing. Just some unfinished business from the palace,” I said dismissively.

“You know if you’re ever in trouble…”

“I know. I can come to your dad for help.”

“And Jason,” Rachel chimed in, resting her cheek on Jason’s chest and smiling brightly at me. “‘Cause he loves you.”

“Rachel!” he exclaimed, his face turning bright red as he looked anywhere except at me.

“I’d better get going,” I said quickly. “Tell your mother I’ll try to stop by tonight. Have a good day!”

I made it out of the village before I burst out laughing. Poor Jason. He was cute, but he was just a kid. I couldn’t wait to tell Theresa about this.

And then I remembered she might not be safe, and the laughter died down.

Jason wouldn’t be of much help in my current predicament. His dad wasn’t of much help, either. He was certainly strong enough to help, with his stocky build and beefy muscles from a life of hard work, but he worked long hours as a blacksmith to support his family. It had always been easy for Jack to time his surprise visits when Mr. Stotts was away. They ran into each other once, when Mr. Stotts was home sick with the flu, and Mr. Stotts flattened Jack with a single punch for just being too close to his family and Mother and me. Then Mrs. Stotts came out with a frying pan in her hand, scolding her husband and threatening Jack in the same breath. I’d hoped that would be the end of my troubles with Jack, but that was when he changed his tactics. Instead of coming to my house, he snatched me off the city streets whenever he felt like harassing me, far from Mr. Stotts’ fist and Mrs. Stotts’ frying pan.

There was always some sort of danger lurking around the corner for me. Help didn’t come often enough for me to count on it. I couldn’t trust anybody, and I didn’t know what to expect.

So, really, nothing had changed.

Except for the odd feeling of security when I stepped through the front gates into the palace courtyard.