After I left Ivetta that evening, I went to my library and pulled the book from Garnet down from the shelf, flipping it open to the first page and the inscription. It was written in the same neat, elegant hand as the journal.
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc0L0KBcZdl
To Evelyn, my love and my queen.
May these few verses keep you warm during the nights when we cannot be together.
From your devoted husband and king, Arvon.
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqau48gdPfT
Sariel didn’t need to fabricate an acceptable background for Ivetta. She was a princess.
I read the journal in its entirety that night. King Arvon was diligent to record an entry every day, and most of the journal’s contents were inane details of court life. But then relations with Obsidian took a severe turn for the worst. Queen Evelyn had received little mention in the mundane matters at the beginning of the journal, but toward the end, she received frequent attention. They came up with an escape plan for her should Obsidian invade, involving many secret friends the couple had within Obsidian’s borders. She was to come to the palace here in Rhodolite for aid, carrying this journal with her so the Emperor wouldn’t find her trail. Garnet was on Obsidian’s northwestern border, and she was to cut her hair, dress as a pauper, and travel straight through the heart of Obsidian, under the very nose of the Emperor.
Which she had. Except she never came to the palace, choosing to scrape out an existence as a commoner, resigning Ivetta to a life of misery and poverty. Why?
King Arvon’s words ended before all the pages of the journal were filled. I flipped through the blank pages absentmindedly, still processing everything, when a new hand appeared on one of the last pages. A thready, weak hand, written in the same language as King Arvon’s writing, with many starts and stops where the author had to take breaks.
Ivetta’s mother, Queen Evelyn, wrote this in her last days, specifically in a language Ivetta could not read.
To me.
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFPHiUPoFk2
Prince Chevalier Michel,
You know the truth now, about me and about Ivetta. I’m sure you have many questions, chief among them why I hid this from her. Maybe I was wrong, but I do love her very much, and everything I did was in her best interest, or so I thought. I am writing this to offer some explanation for my actions and, I hope, rectify at least some of my errors.
A year or so before Obsidian’s invasion, the Emperor invited Arvon and I to Obsidian to discuss a deal that he promised would stabilize relations between our countries. He wanted us to promise the first princess of Garnet to Prince Gilbert as his bride. We hated the idea, but we felt we had no choice if there was any chance at peace, and so we agreed. I know now that the Emperor never had any intention of holding to his side of the agreement. The invasion came, followed by a siege of the castle, and Arvon insisted that I escape and leave him to fight. We didn’t know that I was pregnant. I realized after I crossed the border to Rhodolite, and I was afraid to reveal myself until I knew the gender of the child. The Emperor would not hesitate to use a daughter as a political pawn against Rhodolite, the same way he had used her against Garnet before she was even conceived to trick us into lowering our defenses. So, I settled in the village near the palace, and when I gave birth to a girl, I made the decision to remain in obscurity and do my best to raise her alone.
I know Ivetta deserved much better than I gave her. She has always been so sweet and kind, my reason for living when the heaviness of my past threatened to destroy me from within. I could never have asked for a better gift than the one I received in her. It is no stretch to say that she has kept me alive all these years, even before I became ill. We weathered many hard times, but as long as we were together, I knew we would manage. That was why news of my illness devastated me. I didn’t fear for myself; I feared for Ivetta. She is a strong, intelligent, resourceful girl, but alone, she is far too vulnerable to those who would mistreat her. Unfortunately, you know this all too well.
I intentionally stayed in the village, close enough to the palace in case I ever changed my mind and decided to reveal myself, far enough away to go undetected. Many times, I was tempted to give in and seek aid, but I was just too afraid that Ivetta would be forced into marrying Prince Gilbert. When I became too sick to care for her anymore, I decided it would be best for her to seek employment at the palace and a place in the servants’ quarters. She only partially took my advice, having inherited her stubbornness from her father. She wouldn’t risk my health with a move, nor would she hear of leaving me. Her long walk to and from the palace concerned me greatly, but there was nothing I could do to stop her.
I was also worried about her assignment at the palace, knowing she would be assigned to one of the princes. My official correspondence with Rhodolite ended with the fall of Garnet, when you and your brothers were still children, and I had only rumors and gossip to tell me what sort of men you became. I’m sure you’ll understand my concern when I learned that Ivetta was working for you. I thought I’d made the last in a series of horrible mistakes regarding my precious daughter. It wasn’t long before I realized that my fears were unfounded, at least where you were concerned.
Ivetta tries to hide her problems from me, but she’s always had nightmares, and she has a tendency to talk in her sleep. She thinks I don’t know about Jack. Every night since he assaulted her, she relives that horrible experience, and it breaks my heart. I’ve discovered that your name calms her, and then she starts talking about you and what you did for her. There aren’t words that can adequately express my appreciation for the way you came to her aid. You have protected and provided for her where I could not. I hate that it ever happened, but I have no fear of dying anymore, now that I know she is under your care.
Perhaps the worst thing I have ever done to her is allow her to grow up thinking this is her life. She refuses to believe that anything will ever change. I know she loves you. Her face lights up when she talks about you, which she does, all the time. I am certain you love her, too. But when I tell her this, she is insistent that I am dreaming an impossible dream and that nothing could ever happen between the two of you. Maybe I am just dreaming. Whether I am right or I am wrong, she is truly a princess, by blood and by nature. If these few words make my dream a little more possible, then I will happily write them to you. Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, I give you my blessing. Please take care of my daughter. I know she is safe with you.
Queen Evelyn of Garnet
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I sat back, stunned. For once in my life, I didn’t know what to think. My mind was reeling with all this information. I didn’t even know what question to ask first.
But Gilbert was leaving in the morning.
I picked up the poetry collection and the journal and headed to his room. My knock went unanswered, as would be expected at this hour of the night. Fortunately, the door was unlocked.
“Get up,” I snapped, slamming it behind me as I entered the room.
“What are you-” Gilbert mumbled, sitting bolt upright with a hard glare, but his eyes landed on the books under my arm, and he stopped.
Eyes. He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. The hidden eye was uninjured and crystal blue, violently contrasting with the blood red eye he displayed to the world.
I dropped the books on his lap. “This is all true?”
He sighed and dragged a hand across his eyes. “Yes,” he muttered. He picked up the book of poetry and opened it to the first page and the inscription. “She looks just like her mother, you know. A little shorter, but otherwise identical.”
I took a seat on the sofa against the wall, crossing my arms and my legs as I studied him. “What about the arranged marriage?”
“I assume that was why Queen Evelyn hid her identity. If the Emperor knew about Ivetta, he would have used her as an excuse to invade Rhodolite.”
“Or forced Rhodolite into an unbalanced alliance involving her return to Obsidian and you. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“And you still have no objections?”
“Of course, I have objections,” Gilbert snapped. Suddenly, he dropped the book and lay back with a heavy groan, his hands on his face. “But I’m not going to force her into anything. The Emperor will, though.” He dragged his hands down his face and turned his head to the side to look at me. “You can’t tell anybody. Not yet. The Emperor won’t sign the treaty if he knows.”
“And once the treaty is signed?”
“Then it will be too late for him to interfere, and you can shout it from the rooftops if you like.” Gilbert rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “And I’ll just have to deal with whatever punishment the Emperor decides to give me for all my failings.”
There was that twinge of pity again. I hadn’t considered the possibility that Gilbert’s own father would punish him for all of this. Then again, Gilbert never called him anything but his title: the Emperor. There was no love lost between them.
I could understand why Queen Evelyn thought a life of misery and poverty was better than seeing Ivetta married into the von Obsidian family.
“If you see that the treaty is signed, you will be welcome to visit Rhodolite at any time,” I said coolly, standing up and reclaiming the books.
He turned his face to the side so I could see that blood red eye flashing irritably. “I don’t want your sympathy. Just get out.”
I headed for the door. “It isn’t sympathy. Ivetta will want to ask you more about her parents and Garnet. Goodnight.”
My next logical stop would be my room and my bed. But my feet were not following any logic as they carried me to her room. It was late. She would be asleep. And I wasn’t even sure if I should tell her yet.
The guards at her door stepped aside as I approached, silent as I pulled the key from an inner pocket. The latch clicked softly, and I let myself in, carefully and quietly closing the door behind me.
She was sitting up in bed. In the dim lighting, I couldn’t see her expression, but she recognized me and exhaled deeply as she fell back against the mattress. A soft whimper of pain left her lips, a whimper that almost sounded like a sob. I dropped the books on the sofa and came to her side.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said quietly, taking my usual seat.
It was a sob. There were tears glistening on her cheeks.
“You didn’t,” she replied shakily. “It’s just…the last time my door opened in the middle of the night…”
Of course. She’d panicked, as she had when she first woke up in the palace. That was why she’d been sitting up when she shouldn’t have. But the tears weren’t from that, at least, not all of them. I removed my gloves and tenderly brushed them away.
“You’ve been crying.”
She closed her eyes, the fresh tears slipping down her cheeks her only answer. I hated seeing her cry. My heart twisted in my chest, and I lay down beside her, kissing the tears from her cheeks.
“D-don’t,” she protested weakly, her voice choked.
“Why not?” I murmured, moving closer to embrace her gently, resting one arm lightly across her chest with my hand on her shoulder.
“I…I don’t know,” she confessed, the tears coming faster.
I kissed her cheek again, just once, tasting her salty tears on my lips. “Then may I stay?”
She nodded. I carefully slid my other arm behind her back, nuzzling my cheek against the top of her head as I pulled myself closer. She turned her face into my neck, her breath hot on my skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But I miss her so much.”
“It’s fine,” I whispered back.
Her mother. She couldn’t sleep because she’d been thinking about her mother. The same dead woman was keeping me awake, too, but for an entirely different reason. Ivetta’s grief tempered my elation. I wanted to get even closer, hold her even tighter, but she was in too much physical pain to do more than nuzzle her face into my neck as she cried. I closed my eyes as her tears drenched my neck and my shirt, warming my skin with her breath.
The tears finally stopped, but she didn’t pull away, and she didn’t tell me to let her go. I didn’t say anything, savoring the feel of her in my arms, tentative though my modified embrace may be. There was a way I could get closer, if she’d allow it. She was under the covers; I was on top of them. Would it be too much if I joined her?
“Prince Chevalier?” she whispered, interrupting my internal debate.
“Yes?”
She took a deep breath and asked, “What are you doing here?”
What, indeed. I’d expected her to be asleep. But, after reading the journal, after confirming with Gilbert, I just wanted to see her. My secret princess. Who was crying, grieving the death of her mother, panicking at doors opening in the middle of the night. Telling her now, when she was already in such a state of distress and confusion, would be cruel. As would crawling under the blankets with her, even with chaste intentions.
“It can wait,” I finally said.
“I don’t understand you,” she reluctantly admitted.
“What don’t you understand?” I asked curiously.
“How you can be so different from one minute to the next. How you can be Prince Chevalier and the Brutal Beast.” She sighed, adding a rush of warmth to my neck. “How you can be so warm and soft to me and so cold and hard to everybody else.”
“I don’t understand, either,” I murmured, breathing in the plain, enticing smell of soap from her hair. “I’ve never understood what you do to me.”
She needed a scented soap. Lilacs, reminiscent of the palace gardens in Garnet. And soon. I was beginning to be momentarily affected just by walking into a freshly cleaned room.
“Prince Chevalier…I’m still trying to work all of this out for myself,” she stammered.
“I know.” I kissed the top of her head, enjoying the feel of her silky, soft hair on my lips. “And I can wait.”
“You don’t have to be so perfect,” she said gloomily, nuzzling into my neck and sending shivers down my spine.
I chuckled at the mismatch between her words and her actions. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the way you just showed up at the right time.”
A lucky coincidence.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” I confessed.
“I should be. And so should you - in your own bed,” she reminded me.
But she didn’t move. Neither did I.
“Are you tired?” I asked.
“No,” she admitted with a sigh. “Could I ask you a question?”
This was not why I came here, but I wasn’t complaining. Lying here with her in my arms was already enough. The prospect of a conversation, the late hour notwithstanding, was too good to pass up.
“Yes.”
“Could you tell me about Bloodstained Rose Day?”
Although this was perhaps not my first topic of choice.
“Why do you want to know about that?” I asked quietly.
“Prince Leon mentioned it. He said…he said that was the last time he’d seen you go berserk like you did when you found me.”
This was a strange time for her to be thinking about that. But she probably had a lot of questions, and she certainly had plenty of time to think. That had to be a torture in and of itself. I’d have to talk to the doctor about allowing more visitors.
“What do you know about it?” I asked.
She thought for a moment. “That was the last time Obsidian invaded. All the princes had to go to battle, and we almost lost, but Benitoite came to our aid. I guess that’s why we have the annual goodwill gala, right?”
“Yes.” I sighed heavily, and then I said, “The king stayed here at the palace.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said softly.
“It wasn’t advertised. He was a coward, hiding here with his women while he sent children to battle in his stead. Yves was sixteen; the twins were fifteen. If Luke had been with us, he would have been there, too, I’m sure.”
“I thought men weren’t allowed to join the army until they were eighteen.”
“They’re not,” I said bitterly.
“And Prince Yves is half-Obsidianite,” she said quietly, immediately recognizing what my foolish father had completely disregarded.
“He was as skilled as the rest of us, but he froze. I kept him close all day, trying to protect him, but there was no end to the fighting. Sunrise to sunset without a single break. Leon noticed me tiring and came to my aid just in time to save Yves from an enemy soldier that slipped past me.”
She nuzzled closer to my neck again, the simple action probably intended to comfort me. If so, it was working, and I wanted nothing more than to stop talking and enjoy her touch. Unfortunately, there was more to tell, and I may as well finish what I’d started.
“Reinforcements from Benitoite arrived at sundown, courtesy of Sariel, and that was what saved us. I nearly killed my father when we got back here. He was in bed with some woman. His sons were covered head to toe in blood, injured and exhausted, and he was in bed with his latest plaything.”
Plaything. The biting word echoed in the air, and I realized how that sounded. I squeezed her gently and kissed the top of her head again. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said reassuringly, as if careless fools had never applied such flippant terms to her. “Anybody would have been angry. Why…why didn’t you kill him?”
“Rhodolite couldn’t handle any more political unrest, so I threatened him to within an inch of his miserable life instead,” I continued. “And then he punished me through Yves. He came up with the idea that Yves’ heritage could stir up unrest and distrust. Everybody went along with him. After that, Yves wasn’t allowed to attend the goodwill gala or any political events that involved Benitoite or another possible ally against Obsidian.”
We were both silent for a while, and then I said, “You probably don’t even remember that day.”
“I remember,” she said softly. “Mother was more scared than I’d ever seen her. She curled up in a corner, hugging Father’s journal and crying all day. That was my first time cooking all the meals and doing all the chores by myself.”
I knew why her mother was so scared. She feared it was happening all over again, the loss of her home, the loss of her new country. But if it came to running away, she had an eight-year-old child to worry about this time. An eight-year-old who was already capable of caring for her panic-stricken mother who was too paralyzed to move.
“You did grow up too fast,” I murmured.
“So did you,” Ivetta replied. “But if you’d like to get any older, you should probably leave before the doctor finds you here.”
I chuckled. He would be quite upset if he walked in on us like this.
“Does he often check on you at night?”
“I’m usually asleep, so I wouldn’t know. But I do know that if you fall asleep, you’re not going to wake up in time to leave before he arrives.”
“Is that an invitation to stay?” I teased.
“You’re putting words in my mouth again,” she protested weakly.
I sighed and carefully pulled away, propping myself up on an elbow as I looked down at her. She opened her eyes to look up at me, her cheeks now dry. I didn’t want to leave, and I wasn’t so sure she wanted me to go, either, but the inevitable outburst from the doctor and ensuing argument in the morning wouldn’t be good for her raw nerves. I lightly brushed her hair back behind her ear and continued to trace my finger along her jaw to her chin, and then up to her lips, all still disfigured but slowly healing. She didn’t say a word as I leaned in again to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Not her lips. I wouldn’t be going anywhere if I kissed her on the lips.
“Goodnight, Ivetta.”
“Goodnight, Prince Chevalier.”
I collected the books from the sofa and left, locking the door behind me and ignoring the ever-present, ever-silent guards. It was well past one o’clock in the morning when I retired to my room, setting the books on my desk. I changed into my pajamas and fell into bed, fully aware of the ridiculous grin on my face.
Princess Ivetta. That solved everything.37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE4yvNG1OYg
