A Dove's Tale

Chapter 56

Between Theresa and the gift baskets, I forgot all about Prince Chevalier and any upcoming trouble, at least until dinner. The tension came flooding back when the excited chatter of other servants surrounded me, and I really just pushed my food around my plate, listening to it all. It didn’t have to go wrong. I didn’t have to get into trouble. Maybe Prince Chevalier was wrong this time, I told myself, changing into a crisp new uniform to match the rest of the servants. It could happen. He hadn’t known how things would go that time I slapped Prince Clavis. Everything would be fine, I told myself, lining up along the walls of the entrance hall with the other servants assigned to specific guests.

The first of the guests filtered in, and all the servants stood up straighter, the last of the chatter dying away. Many of the guests brought their own servants, who carried their luggage while their assigned maids and butlers stepped forward to introduce themselves and showed the guests to their rooms. Those who didn’t have their own attendants at hand snapped their fingers or their voices at the nearest servant, who dutifully went outside to the carriage to unload the often excessive amount of baggage. The lower the rank of nobility, the higher the self-importance, it seemed.

So, I should have an easier time with the foreign princes, shouldn’t I?

Even I didn’t believe that.

I stood in my place, trying not to fidget as the minutes and guests passed me by. It seemed the foreign princes wanted to be fashionably late. The wait was agonizing.

And then I heard the distinctive jangling of innumerable metals and jewels hitting each other, and I knew Prince Silvio Ricci of Benitoite had arrived. Sariel and Prince Chevalier both made a point of saying Prince Silvio jangled. I straightened and stepped forward to meet him.

He made quite an entrance.

I was right to go with blue for his gift basket. He had blue eyes and hair dyed multiple shades of blue - lighter at the top, fading to almost silver at the tips of his long bangs, contrasting with dark blue at the back. His boots were turquoise with silver toes and designs, ending about two-thirds up his calves. The vest and pants he wore were black and adorned with copious gold jewelry. His white shirt had a low-cut neck with prominent ruffles falling over his chest, and his sleeves were full and poofy until they came to a tight cuff. His cloak was multiple shades of blue, matching his hair - lighter on the inside, darker on the outside, with some blending of shades here or there, rimmed with a white and black spotted ruff of fur about the neck. And the jewelry. So much jewelry. Everything jangled, and everything glittered - necklaces, rings, even his bejeweled sword belt.

“Welcome to Rhodolite, Prince Silvio,” I said, dipping into a polite curtsy. “My name is Ivetta, and I will attend to you during your stay. Allow me to show you to your room.”

“Shouldn’t a prince be here to greet me?” he snapped, his sea-blue eyes flashing irritably.

He was as rude as Prince Chevalier had said.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, your highness. I believe the princes are getting ready for the ball, but I know they’re looking forward to seeing you.”

“Yeah, right,” he huffed.

I bit my tongue and smiled sweetly, leading him to the room I’d prepared, not lingering to see what he thought of the gift basket. He seemed the type who would find something disagreeable about it, and even if he liked it, he probably wouldn’t say so. The other two princes would be here at any moment, so I hurried back to the entrance, just as a deathly chill settled over the hall. I took my place in the line of servants, looking around at the suddenly pale, frightened faces lining the carpet. Spring nights could be cool, but the air flowing in through the massive double doors had been warm when I left. What changed? Why was everybody so afraid?

A sharp tap of metal hitting cobblestone drew my eyes back to the entrance. Another sharp tap followed, and another, and a cold dread clutched at my chest as Prince Gilbert von Obsidian stepped into the hall. I knew it was him. It had to be. He wore an eye-patch over his left eye, and the charming smile on his face didn’t match the waves of terror radiating out from him. His presence was as obvious and distinctive as Prince Chevalier’s, and his single blood-red eye, though bright and cheerful, brought to mind an image of me lying in a pool of blood somewhere. Black hair, black military uniform adorned with numerous gold medals over the chest, black cloak with a ruff of black fur around the neck, black gloves, and a black cane, tapping the floor rhythmically with each relentless step. He didn’t have a sword that I could see. I still didn’t want to approach him. Nobody did. Several servants took a step back as he approached, and the guards at the door were practically trembling in their armor. There was something innately menacing about this man.

And I had to greet him.

I swallowed my fear and stepped forward, dipping into the requisite curtsy. “Welcome to Rhodolite, Prince Gilbert. My name is Ivetta, and I will attend to you during your stay. Allow me to show you to your room.”

“I would be delighted to accompany such a beautiful and charming young woman,” he said pleasantly, his blood-red eye settling on me.

The smile I gave him came only from weeks of practicing my mask. I was certain my reaction to him would have been the same irrational fear I felt now, even if I hadn’t known who he was. The tapping of his cane on the floor behind me as I led him to his room made my skin crawl. He walked without a limp. The cane was there for effect, or maybe he had a hidden weapon in the black cylinder decorated with gold markings. I just wanted to leave him at his room and get away as quickly as possible.

It took an eternity to get there.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to show me to the ballroom in about a half hour?” he asked when I turned to leave, still wearing that same charming smile and amiable expression.

My stomach flipped, but I held my smile in place. “Of course, your highness.”

I didn’t let my shuddering breath out until I was around the corner and out of his sight. Sariel told me he advised Belle to disregard etiquette and just run away if she met Prince Gilbert. I couldn’t do that, but I wanted to. Whispers around the palace told me Prince Gilbert’s monikers were as colorful as Prince Chevalier’s: the Conqueror Beast; the Devouring General. He was a national disaster, one who had already threatened my life to make Prince Clavis do his bidding, and I had to serve him the rest of the week.

I should have listened to Prince Chevalier.

But it was too late for that now.

Prince Keith was yet to arrive, and Prince Chevalier said he wouldn’t be a problem. Sariel warned that Prince Keith seemed good-natured, but he didn’t know him well. He couldn’t be worse than Prince Gilbert. I took another deep breath and rounded the corner to the entrance hall, taking my place among the servants again. More than one gave me an undisguised look of surprise. I could understand why. It felt like Prince Gilbert held my life in his hands on that overlong walk to his room.

The night had only just begun, I reminded myself. It was far too early for me to fall apart.

The deathly chill had vanished with Prince Gilbert’s departure from the entrance hall, and the delicious scent of spring flowers wafted through the doors with the next arrival. Prince Keith Howell of Jade. He was tall, almost as tall as Prince Luke, but with none of the confidence displayed by the other foreign princes. His gray hair fell into his shy golden eyes, and his tentative smile had a genuine feel to it that Prince Gilbert’s smile lacked. I stepped forward to greet him, dropping into a curtsy and noting the blinding whiteness of his gold-embroidered boots, pants, and cloak brushing the floor.

“Welcome to Rhodolite, Prince Keith. My name is Ivetta, and I will attend to you during your stay. Allow me to show you to your room.”

“Thank you,” he said, his deep voice soft and gentle. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

I liked him immediately. The layered green and gold leaves of his jacket put me in mind of sunshine on a grassy field, and even the sword at his hip wasn’t off-putting. He had an air of gentility, like Prince Luke. I felt a little concerned about how he would fare with the other princes. Prince Leon’s faction would accommodate a quiet man like Prince Keith, but the rest…

Well, it wasn’t really my business, was it?

“This is quite nice,” he said as I showed him to his room, his eyes catching the gift basket and floral arrangement immediately.

“Thank you, Prince Keith. I believe the ball will start soon, but hopefully you’ll have enough time to freshen up first. If you need anything, please let me know.”

“I will, thank you,” he said.

That was a breath of fresh air. It was too bad he didn’t seem the needy type. I wouldn’t mind him monopolizing my time with silly demands over the rest of the week, so I didn’t have time for Prince Gilbert and Prince Silvio. But the only one to make a demand, or a request, of me so far was Prince Gilbert. The heir to a hostile nation. The one man I couldn’t refuse for fear of causing offense and triggering a war.

The foreign princes’ rooms were all in a row. There wasn’t nearly enough time before I was back at Prince Gilbert’s door. I took a deep breath and knocked. The door opened immediately, and an icy chill settled on me as I looked up at that disarming smile and that blood-red eye.

“I know I’m a bit early, but are you ready to go to the ball now, Prince Gilbert?” I asked politely.

“Your timing is impeccable,” he replied, stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. “But I’d rather you walked with me so we can talk more easily,” he continued, offering me his arm.

I didn’t want to talk to him. I definitely didn’t want to touch him. The point of me coming to his room before the half hour was up was to get this done and over with. But I took his arm politely, and my smile immediately faltered. He was ice-cold, even through the layers of his clothing. Like Mother often was.

“Are you alright, Prince Gilbert?” I asked without thinking.

He chuckled and started walking, leading me along instead of the reverse. “Why would you ask that, little dove?”

The chill in my chest spread into my veins, making me feel cold all over. He knew my nickname. That felt personal, even more so than him knowing my schedule well enough to use me to deliver that letter to Prince Clavis.

But I couldn't let him know he had gotten to me. And I was truly concerned about how cold he felt.

“You feel cold, your highness. I can bring extra blankets to your room, if you like, or maybe a hot cup of tea later?”

“So considerate. Then you were the one who left me that lovely gift basket.”

“It’s my responsibility to see that you enjoy your stay, your highness,” I replied, wondering why he changed the subject, if his compliment was genuine, and where this conversation was going.

“Then I’ll take you up on your kind offer, but make it warm milk instead. I sometimes have trouble sleeping after big events such as this.”

Why did I suggest bringing anything to his room later? I didn’t want to be there with him. Alone. When the chances that he would just take the milk at the door and send me away were dwindling before my eyes. He’d placed his hand over mine on his arm at some point in this conversation, as if to keep me from running, and his hand was ice cold through his glove. I felt trapped. Walking down a hallway full of servants, guards, and other guests, I felt alone, and I felt trapped.

He knew the way to the ballroom. He never needed me to show him, and this was only ever about him getting me alone to talk with him. Had he manipulated the conversation to get me to his room tonight? Or had he even needed to, since I was too worried about how cold he was to think about my safety?

“I’ll do that, your highness,” I replied, keeping my growing fear bottled up and hidden by the mask of a good little maid. “If I don't see when you leave the ball, please let another servant know. They'll be happy to relay the message to me.”

“I’m sure they will.”

The ballroom doors were just ahead, but he wasn’t removing his hand from mine. When was he going to let me go? He wouldn’t force me to go into the ballroom with him, would he?

The nervous guards were opening the doors. Prince Gilbert stopped and took my hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. An eerie silence fell in the ballroom as his name was announced.

“Till later, little dove.”

My heart was clamoring in my chest. Everybody saw that. The guards heard it. And I could only smile and nod.

“Enjoy the ball, Prince Gilbert.”

He turned and walked into the ballroom, and I left, not daring to look after him. The princes would be approaching Prince Gilbert to greet him, led by Prince Chevalier and Prince Leon, and I didn’t want to see the looks on their faces. They were better than I was at wearing their masks, though. I probably wouldn’t see anything except maybe a flash of irritation in their eyes.

But I felt sick.

Prince Gilbert planned that. All of it. Was it too late to leave the palace and run home, never to return? But he had to know where I lived. He knew everything. My nickname, ‘little dove.’ Only the Rhodolitian princes called me that. Leaving wouldn’t help me at all. It would just put me out of reach of help and make me even more vulnerable.

I had to stay, and I had to go to his room when he called me. And nobody could help me. That was what I decided when I chose this.

I took a deep breath and headed for the kitchens. Hopefully, Marge would keep me busy with work that didn't involve me going into the ballroom. I didn’t want to see any princes right now. Especially not Prince Chevalier.

If my plan worked, if Prince Gilbert decided I couldn't be used against Prince Chevalier, what guarantee did I have that he would leave me alone after that?