A Beast's Tale

Chapter 25

I didn’t even try to read while I waited for Ivetta to return. I was too busy trying to convince myself that I was not going to tease her further when she arrived. Although I was becoming more and more aware that the mere sight of her was enough to derail any sense of logic.

How long had it been since she arrived? Two weeks? Two weeks to plunge me into utter confusion. Obsidian could only hope to find a method so effective at undermining me.

Obsidian. Gilbert. The two names were sobering. I’d never met Gilbert before, since Obsidian had never seen fit to make any attempts at discussion with Rhodolite after abandoning Yves. But I knew quite a lot about Gilbert, who was only a month younger than me. He wore an eyepatch, though there was nothing wrong with his sight in either eye, and he always carried a cane, though he had no trouble walking. I suspected he had a blade hidden in that cane. His monikers were as colorful as mine - the Conquering Beast, the Devouring General. He was skilled in the arts of subterfuge and manipulation, and he had no qualms about using the weak and the innocent to further his ends.

It wouldn’t take him long to realize that Ivetta held special importance to all the princes of Rhodolite, me in particular. He may know something about her already. His extensive network of spies kept him well informed.

An hour walk to and from the palace. Two hours a day when she was alone on the streets, plus the time when she was at home with her dying mother. Far too much time for Gilbert to get his hands on her, should he so choose.

But the goodwill gala was still two weeks away. It was possible her mother would die before that, which would mean she would be safely ensconced in the servants’ quarters when Gilbert arrived. Still in danger, of course, but much more easily protected by me.

If she knew that I wished for her mother’s swift death, not just once, but many times, and with increasing frequency, I had no doubt that I would be in for another tongue-lashing. Of course, if her mother were still alive at the time of the goodwill gala and Gilbert made the mistake of threatening the ailing woman, he may find himself in significantly more danger than he anticipated.

I chuckled at the thought.

“I’m back, Prince Chevalier,” Ivetta said cheerfully, interrupting my musings and setting my tea on the end table next to me. She took her usual step back to await my next orders, but she was resolutely staring at the floor, and she was already blushing before I even said a word.

Gilbert and Obsidian could wait.

“Look at me,” I instructed, propping my elbow up on the arm of the chair and resting my chin in my hand. The throbbing of my healing wounds reminded me of the painful events of yesterday, but her shy green eyes reluctantly looking up at mine reminded me of the lighthearted frivolity of the day before.

“Is it so difficult for you to eat in front of me?” I asked bemusedly, immediately rewarded by a deepening of her blush.

“You’re the one who made it awkward, your highness,” she complained, scowling unconvincingly at me.

I chuckled at her pathetic attempt to feign irritation. She was embarrassed, but she wasn’t upset.

“I didn’t realize you were so sensitive to a little teasing.”

“A little teasing? That’s all you and your brothers do!” she protested. “They were acting like a bunch of children in Prince Leon’s office.”

“Food does that to them,” I commented, although I was certain their behavior was due to her presence and not the chocolate cake. And I was also certain that I didn’t want to think about what they may have said or done. Especially not when she was giving me so much to think about right now. It was impossible for me not to picture her shyly biting into the beignet I’d offered her a couple of days ago.

“It has a strange effect on you, too,” I added, although I wasn’t so sure the effect was any lesser on me.

I may never look at beignets the same way ever again.

“And you, apparently,” she said, perceptive as always. “May I go back to work now?”

“Does this bother you so much?” I teased, unwilling to let her leave.

“Yes, it does,” she replied, her green eyes flashing as my teasing brought out the inevitable frustration that I also enjoyed seeing. “It would be a lot easier if you just ignored me or insulted me like everybody else.”

There was nothing enjoyable about that statement. My amusement evaporated immediately. I’d never been able to ignore her, and I wanted to punch my past self for ever insulting her. But that was the sort of treatment she was used to?

“What are you talking about?” I snapped.

She sighed. “For somebody who accuses me of being naïve all the time, you can be pretty clueless, Prince Chevalier.”

“Explain.”

“Think about it. I have no father, no family name, no money, and I’m supposedly the bastard child of a prostitute. You’ve said before that the perceptions of others are inconsequential, but perception is everything. Truth is irrelevant. I am nothing to nobody, and I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this.”

She said it all in such a calm, matter-of-fact manner, as if it didn’t bother her at all, and I just stared at her, speechless. Jack’s words weren’t the only lies she’d believed.

Nothing to nobody?

“And yet, here we are,” I finally said quietly.

She shrugged. “Yes, well, at least you’re consistent. You never make any sense, and you have a way of making and breaking rules as you see fit.” She took a deep breath, and her shoulders sagged for a moment, as if she were suddenly exhausted.

It did bother her. More than she wanted to let on.

“But thank you for talking to Prince Yves,” she said, suddenly back to normal. “That really seemed to cheer him up. Is there anything else you need from me, your highness, or may I go back to work?”

Her words echoed in my mind. No father, no family name, no money, supposedly the bastard child of a prostitute. Rationally, without knowing her, I would think nothing of her, too. I hadn’t needed to know any of that to think nothing of her when we first met. But it took only a matter of minutes to realize that she wasn’t just something, she was somebody. And I couldn’t accept her words.

Making and breaking rules. Like disregarding a Benitoite princess for the maid who stood quietly in front of me, waiting for me to dismiss her like everybody else?

I must be out of my mind.

“I suppose that explains it,” I finally muttered.

“Explains what?” she asked curiously.

“Why you aren’t married.”

Her green eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks bright red all over again.

“Don’t look so surprised. I am not so clueless as to be unaware that commoners typically marry by your age,” I said sarcastically, annoyed by the direction my thoughts were taking me.

“Yes, they do,” she confirmed, regaining her composure. “And yes, that’s why I’m not married, and I probably never will be. Romance novels would lead you to believe differently, but most marriages among commoners are still arranged by the fathers. Even if I had a more acceptable background, I would still be at a disadvantage, but as it is, no decent man would have me.”

There it was again, that calm, matter-of-fact tone that she used to convince herself of her own words.

“You have accepted this.”

She smiled ruefully. “I accepted it a long time ago, Prince Chevalier. The only one who hasn’t accepted it is my mother, but there’s no point worrying about something that will never change. But, since we’re on the topic, why aren’t you or any of your brothers married?”

This, of all questions. Although it was my fault for bringing it up.

“Age aside, surely it would be a good idea to marry politically,” she continued, unaware of the conflict raging within me. “Unless you’re waiting to see who will be named king, so a suitable queen can be chosen?”

The truth seemed the best answer. At least, the truth until recently. The truth that had to remain.

“I don’t know the others’ reasons, but I don’t intend to marry until I take the throne,” I replied coolly. “That doesn’t stop Four-Eyes from making irritating suggestions, most recently, a Benitoite princess.”

I paused as a thought occurred to me. If Ivetta knew how old I was, she probably wouldn’t respond to my teasing the same way. And I needed all the help I could get with keeping myself in check.

“How old do you think I am?”

“Oh, I’m horrible at guessing ages,” she said quickly, flushing again. “I just don’t pay attention to that sort of thing.”

She blushed far too easily, and I reacted far too strongly to the sight.

“Thirty,” I said simply, waiting for her shocked response.

It didn’t come.

“So, the other princes are in their twenties to thirties, then?” she asked, completely unaffected.

“Number One is thirty-two, Noisy is twenty-nine, Black is twenty-eight, the Showoff is twenty-six, and the twins are twenty-five. Jumbo hasn’t been here long, but I know he’s at least older than you,” I said, mindlessly listing the facts while I tried to determine if I should be disappointed or pleased by her apparent disregard for our age difference. Not that I had much choice in the matter. Logically, I was disappointed, but logic dictated very little when it came to her. Like right now, when her giggle snapped me out of my thoughts to focus on her.

“If you were commoners, you’d all have well-established families by now,” she said.

I had to smile at that thought. “That would be a tragedy.”

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe not. Even the most immature men tend to grow up very quickly once they have a family to provide for. Speaking of which, I should be earning my pay by cleaning, not talking, your highness.”

I smirked at her timely reminder. She wasn’t supposed to be in here talking to me at all, and I needed time to think.

“Then go.”

“Thank you, your highness,” she said.

I sat back in my chair after she left, taking a sip of the tea that was already starting to cool after our lengthy conversation. There used to be a time when I came to the library to read undisturbed, trying to avoid contact with anybody. That seemed like such a long time ago.

How long had she been working here again? Two weeks. It didn’t seem possible for one person to have such a profound impact on my life in such a short time. Only yesterday, I tried to drive her away with unforgivable behavior. Tried, and failed miserably. Now we were closer than ever, talking with such familiarity that she even forgot to use the appropriate formalities when she addressed me. She was unphased by my attempts at cruelty, by my age, and by my station. But a simple tease with a beignet was enough to undo her.

Sariel was going to kill me if I let this go any further.

It was unthinkable for a prince to marry a maid. But the unthinkable had sprung to mind, and I couldn’t even brush the foolish thought away by telling myself she must have multiple better options than me. She didn’t. Somehow, this beautiful, intelligent, caring, sweet, hardworking woman failed to meet the standards for nobility and for commoners.

If I didn’t marry her, who would?

War was coming. Regardless of station, nobody had any business getting married right now.

This is what I’d been reduced to. A lovesick fool scrambling for reasons to deny his own feelings.

We didn’t speak again until she presented herself right before five o’clock, and I insisted she get a carriage again - this time, with the addition that one would come for her in the morning if it was still raining. She didn’t argue the point. Her morning walk must have been miserable for her to acquiesce so easily.

At least I had enough control to resist the urge to escort her in the carriage, and I decided to celebrate the small victory while I formulated a better strategy toward winning the war.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t so sure this was one I could win.