A Beast's Tale

Chapter 16

I awoke to Ivetta’s voice calling her morning greeting at nine o’clock. There was something off about her voice, something strained. And she must not have been humming, or I would have woken earlier, like usual.

“You’re not humming,” I mumbled.

“My throat’s a little sore this morning, Prince Chevalier,” she said dismissively.

Something wasn’t right, and I didn’t believe for a second that it was just a sore throat. She was uncharacteristically quiet, but her voice had been clear. Her posture was oddly tense, too, as it had been yesterday before she left. Sariel hadn’t moved her mother, even after my warning, had he? No, he wasn’t that foolish. And that wouldn’t explain her uniform, either. She was wearing a winter uniform - long-sleeved, the skirt extending down to her ankles.

I watched her as we went about our business, but I found no other clues. She was careful not to look at me, clearly hiding something, and she wasn’t going to volunteer any information. I needed to focus on the round table coming up in less than an hour, but…something was wrong. Very wrong. It had to wait, though. It could not take priority now. I finished breakfast and headed toward the door, but I stopped with my hand on the doorknob and looked back at her one last time. It suddenly occurred to me that she wasn’t rolling her sleeves up as she worked. Even in the winter, most of the maids rolled their sleeves up when they were cleaning.

“Roll up your sleeves,” I commanded, walking up behind her.

“Prince Chevalier?” she asked, startled, as she turned and looked up at me.

“You heard me.”

There was a flicker of fear in her green eyes, but she looked down at her hands and slowly, reluctantly, complied.

Bruises. Bruises around her wrists, where somebody had grabbed her. I took her hands and studied them, all thoughts of the round table gone as anger rose within me. Who had done this? Sariel? No, he’d gotten my message loud and clear. This had to have happened after she left.

“Are there more?”

She hesitated, confirming my suspicion.

“Show me.”

“I don’t-”

“Show me.”

She bit her lip nervously, but she pulled her collar to the side, exposing one bruised shoulder for just a second. I caught the fabric as she released it, pulling it back again to inspect the injury more closely. These were worse than the ones on her wrists, almost black where fingers had dug into her skin. What monster would dare to do this to her?

“Prince Chevalier-”

“Anywhere else?” I asked, baring her other shoulder. There was a matching set of bruises there, too.

She took a step back from me, straightening her collar, and I glimpsed an ugly scratch across her chest. “Nowhere I’m showing you,” she said quietly but firmly. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. My fingers touched the skin just above the neckline of her dress. She swatted my hand away and hid the scratches with her other hand, but she knew I’d seen them.

“Who did this?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice calm.

“It’s none of your business, your highness.” She looked miserable, and she couldn’t hold my gaze. The sight made me even angrier. She felt guilty. Somebody had attacked her, and she felt guilty.

I stepped closer to her, catching her chin and forcing her to meet my eyes. “Who?”

She pushed my hand away and stepped back again. “Don’t try to pretend you care, Prince Chevalier,” she snapped. “I’m just a useful tool, remember?”

My eyes widened in surprise as I stared down at her. She looked like she was about to cry, and she turned away quickly. Is that what she thought? Of course she did. I’d given her no reason to think otherwise. But it wasn’t true, and I wasn’t going to sit back and allow her to be hurt. Somebody was going to pay for this.

“Tell me what happened,” I insisted, anger creeping into my voice.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it, Prince Chevalier,” she replied, her voice weak and shaky.

I had to calm down. She didn’t need to be frightened anymore than she already was. I gently turned her back toward me. “Tell me,” I repeated, softening my voice

“Please, just leave me alone,” she begged, nervously clutching at the collar of her dress.

“No,” I said firmly.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “I…ran into some trouble…last night,” she stammered.

“What kind of trouble?”

She hugged herself, but finally said in a small voice, “A…a pimp in…in the red-light district.”

“What did he do to you?” I pressed on, unable to keep the low threat out of my voice. I knew what he’d done. It was all too obvious. But I needed confirmation, and I needed a name.

She shook her head again. “Please don’t make me talk about it,” she choked, a tear escaping to slide down her cheek.

The sight of her falling apart like this was worse than her injuries. I led her over to the bench at the foot of the bed, sitting down beside her. “I need to know,” I said softly, wiping the tear from her cheek.

“He didn’t…I got away before…” She choked again and turned away quickly, burying her face in her hands as she began to cry. At least she hadn’t been raped. But she’d come close - very close. And she was acting like it was her fault, like she had some reason to be ashamed. I didn’t even have to think about my response. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her toward me, holding her small, sobbing frame tightly against me. Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed holding her close like this. But not now. Not when she was in so much pain, when she’d been hurt so badly, when her facade of bravery had crumbled to reveal the frightened little girl inside.

He was going to die.

Her crying finally subsided, but she was still trembling in my arms. I found myself reflexively stroking her silky black hair, hoping the action was somehow soothing to her. She was so fragile, so vulnerable, offering no resistance at all. This wasn’t like her. She should be pushing me away, her green eyes flashing, snapping at me about my manners or lack thereof.

“I need you to tell me,” I finally said quietly.

She stiffened and pulled free, wiping her face with her apron, unable to look at me. I waited, and she swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“He’s been trying to recruit me for a few years,” she finally said, her voice flat and monotone. “He just got a little rough last night, that’s all. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” I said firmly. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Eighteen. She was barely more than a child. I’d assumed she was older because of her maturity, but she really was as young as she looked. “And this has been going on for a few years?” I asked incredulously.

She nodded. “It’s never been this bad before.”

“How did it happen?”

She sighed, but continued. “It’s always the same. He grabs me off the street and drags me into his brothel. This time, he-” She stopped suddenly, making a small choking sound, but she swallowed it down. “He was drunk. I got away. That’s all.” She paused again, and then she added miserably, “It’s my fault for not paying attention.”

I was silent for a moment, anger churning through my veins. She’d been distracted when she left, too distracted. It wasn’t her fault at all, but this pimp had taken advantage of that when she was walking home, too worried about her mother to pay attention to her surroundings.

‘Grabs me off the street.’ ‘Always the same.’ ‘It’s never been this bad before.’

How many times had this man had his hands on her?

Years. She said this had been going on for years.

Never again. This stopped now.

“Does he know where you live?” I asked quietly.

She nodded, and my stomach turned.

“Has he ever come to your house?”

She nodded again.

I was going to cut him up into little pieces. He would die a slow, painful death.

“And your mother?”

“He tried to recruit her when I was a child. But she doesn’t know about this.”

So he’d been operating for a long time. He’d watched her grow up, waiting until he decided she could start earning him money. The thought was nauseating. I wanted to handle this myself, but Leon knew the town better than I did, and he needed to know about this.

“Black handles domestic affairs,” I said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

She grabbed at my cloak, the sudden tug stopping me. “Please don’t tell him,” she begged, desperation driving her to meet my eyes as I turned back to look at her, standing trembling behind me. “I don’t want anybody to know.”

There was so much pain in her green eyes.

I gently pried her fingers loose, my hands wrapping around hers. “s****l assault and prostitution are illegal. He’ll be able to find and arrest this man so he won’t hurt you again.”

She relented with a silent nod, dropping my gaze again.

“Wait here.”

I released her hand and left, storming down the hallway, seeing red. How dare he do this to her. And this had been going on for years. Years. She was barely even a woman, and she’d been dealing with this on her own for so long. How had this pimp been able to carry on, unnoticed by Leon and law enforcement? He was going to answer for this. The pimp, and Leon. I’d let Leon keep his life, though. When I found him. He wasn’t in his office, his bedroom, or the round table room, although several of our brothers were already gathered there.

“Where’s Black?” I asked, my voice cold and hard.

“I don’t know,” Jin replied, his eyes narrowing as they met mine. “What’s going on?”

“The meeting is off.” I slammed the door shut behind me and continued my search, my anger growing with each passing second.

Leon was in the gardens, lying on his back in the grass, staring up at the sky. It was all I could do not to seize him by the collar and drag him to his feet.

“What do you want, Chevalier?” he asked irritably, glaring up at me as my shadow fell over him.

“I want you to do your job,” I said testily.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Get up.”

He sighed and stood, his amber eyes narrowed as he faced me. “I was about to head in for the round table-”

“Ivetta was assaulted,” I said angrily, cutting him off.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Last night, in the red-light district, by a pimp who’s been trying to recruit her for a few years,” I said, each word bitingly harsh. “She’s only eighteen.”

He exhaled deeply. “Is she okay?”

“She’s in my room, crying. There are bruises on her wrists and shoulders, and scratches on her chest, and that’s just what she would show me,” I said, my voice trembling with rage.

“What’s his name?” Leon asked, his voice descending into an angry growl.

“She hasn’t told me that yet. Come.” I turned and started walking, and he quickly fell in line beside me.

“Did he-”

“No. She got away somehow before he could rape her.”

“When I get my hands on him-”

“He’s mine,” I said sharply. Leon looked over at me quickly. “I just need you to find him, but he’s mine.”

When we returned, she was still sitting where I’d left her, but she wasn’t crying anymore. Her face was strangely blank as she stared down at her hands, clenched nervously in her lap. Leon sat beside her on the bench, and I stayed by the door, leaning back against it to ensure nobody would disturb us. I crossed my arms over my chest, looking at the floor, listening.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Chevalier had some trouble tracking me down,” Leon said apologetically. “He filled me in on what happened. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine, your highness,” she said quietly.

Why did she feel like she had to pretend? She didn’t have to deal with this by herself. Not anymore.

“I know you already told Chevalier, but do you think you could tell me, too?”

She took a deep breath and began to speak, repeating everything again in the same flat monotone she’d used earlier with me. This time, she was able to get through it without crying. She didn’t add any details.

“I’m sorry to have to ask this, Ivetta, but I need to see the marks, too.” Leon’s voice was soft and gentle, but there was an edge of anger in it, too.

There was a brief silence while she showed him. I kept my eyes on the floor, my blood boiling.

“How long are those?”

He must be asking about the scratches. I looked up at that. Her hands reluctantly drew symmetrical horizontal lines from the center of her chest across each breast.

“He must have torn your dress,” Leon said quietly.

She nodded. “It’s in the laundry.”

I immediately left. This was sickening. To think of somebody hurting her, exposing her - and as much as I didn’t want to see it, I had to. I burst through the door to the laundry, startling the servants who were busy soaking and scrubbing.

“P-p-prince Chevalier!” one of them managed to exclaim.

“Show me the torn uniform,” I said, unconcerned about the fear my fierce expression was inflicting.

“Oh, we threw it away. It’s beyond repair,” another stammered.

“Where is it?” I asked threateningly.

A third got up and ran out of the room, returning quickly with the torn dress. I snatched it from her and left, heading back to my room. Leon was waiting for me outside the door.

“Here,” I said, thrusting it into his hands. He held it up, his eyes burning as we took in the damage. It had been torn wide open from the neck to the waist.

“I have his name and location,” he said, his voice a quiet growl so Ivetta couldn’t hear it.

“He’s mine to kill. Understand?” I said, keeping my voice low as well.

Leon nodded. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got him. Just give me enough time to question him, and then he’s all yours.”

“Question him?” I snapped.

“He’s gonna have other girls, Chevalier. And maybe connections to other pimps. I’m not stopping with him. This ends today.”

He was right. My only thought had been for Ivetta, but removing one pimp would do her no good if there were others just waiting to take his place.

“Go,” I said coolly.

He left without another word. I took a deep breath and let myself into my room. She was still sitting on the bench. I walked over to her, looking down at her pitiful form. She was staring at her hands, wringing them nervously in her lap.

What was I supposed to say to her?

I sighed, and then I sat down beside her. “Don’t try to hide something like this from me again. Do you understand?” My tone was much more stern than I’d intended.

“Yes, your highness,” she said, her voice small and soft.

“You should stay here tonight.”

“Prince Chevalier-” she started, looking up at me in a panic.

“I know,” I interrupted, furrowing my brow in irritation. It was a horrible thought, but her mother needed to hurry up and die, so she could move here and be safe. “I’ll arrange a carriage for you.”

“No, you don’t understand.” She dropped her gaze to her hands again.

“Then explain.”

She swallowed hard. “He’d seen me in town - and at the festival - and he thought I was-” She paused, and then she spoke again. “It will only make things worse.”

I was silent for a moment. She’d seen him at the festival. That was what had scared her so badly. I should have pressed her further then. This could have been prevented if I’d done so. This was my fault.

No, that wasn’t right. This was no more my fault than it was hers. I’d certainly given no indication of being sexually involved with her, and neither had Leon. Maybe Clavis’ obnoxious statements could be misconstrued in that direction, but it should have been plain to see that she didn’t welcome them.

How could anybody watch her tender care of that little boy and want to hurt her?

“Black will have him in custody soon. We will reevaluate the situation then.” I stood up again. “Stay here as long as you like.”

I left without further word.

Years. This had been going on for years. She said it had never been this bad before, but she’d been dragged off the street into a brothel multiple times. Maybe he hadn’t tried to rape her before, but he’d had his hands on her. And he’d come to her house when she was alone. She’d been hiding this, even from her mother, carrying it alone, thinking she couldn’t trust anybody for help. Maybe she couldn’t, before. But as Leon said, this ended today. She was under my protection now, and this would never happen to her again. It shouldn’t have happened to begin with.

She was only eighteen.

Clavis, Nokto, and Luke were all gathered in my office, waiting for an explanation about the round table. I went to the window behind my desk without a word. There was no way I was getting any work done today. Not while my blood was boiling, waiting for Ivetta’s attacker to be brought to me for punishment. Death was too good for him, after what he’d done.

“Chev?” Clavis asked quietly.

She didn’t want anybody to know, but as long as she had to live outside of the palace, I would need all the help I could get to keep her safe. They didn’t have to know all the details. I turned around to face them.

“Ivetta was assaulted.”

Three pairs of eyes widened momentarily, and then all three narrowed angrily.

“Leon and I are handling it. Nobody goes near her today. Understand?”

“How is she?” Nokto asked quietly.

“Scared.” To put it mildly.

“Was she-” started Luke.

“No.”

Clavis let out a sharp breath. “Good.”

“You’re not letting her leave tonight,” Nokto said.

Clavis shook his head. “She can’t stay. Her mother is too sick to be moved.”

“Which is why I’m telling you,” I interjected. “This will not happen to her again.”

Luke nodded. “I’ll see to that.”

“We’ll all see to it,” Nokto added.

“Leon’s faction needs to hear this, too, but nobody else. She doesn’t want anybody to know.”

“Where is she now?” Clavis asked.

“My room.”

Luke’s fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Leon’s after the guy, right?”

“Yes.”

“I want a piece of him.”

“No. He’s mine.”

“Chev-” Clavis started, but I interrupted him.

“Get out.”

They all complied, but their eyes were just as murderous as mine.