Two weeks later, after a long day of work, my feet carried me to her room. She was up late studying again, judging by the light under her door. I knocked at the door, waiting impatiently for her invitation. When it came, I walked in and joined her on the sofa.
“It’s been two weeks,” I said, with no further explanation.
Her smile was as bright as the sun. “And the doctor gave me a clean bill of health today.”
“Good.” I stood and headed for the door. “I’ll wait outside.”
Her new wardrobe was stunning - or rather, she made it stunning. The tightly corseted bodices, the gentle flare of the skirts at the hips, did her figure more justice than the former maid’s uniform. Various alterations in neckline, sleeves, skirt length, and adornment served to emphasize different aspects of her beauty with fantastic effect. The gown she wore today was a pale pink, the color of her lips, with a wide neckline baring most of each shoulder, short sleeves barely more than thin ruffles about the tops of her upper arms, and matching gloves extending up past her elbows. A single large bow at her right hip decorated the full skirt, which ended just above her ankles to reveal a matching pair of high-heeled shoes. A beautiful dress for a beautiful woman, but hardly suitable for horseback riding. And there was something special about her wearing a more simple outfit, one that I bought for her before her status had improved.
“I’m ready.”
I turned around to meet her shining green eyes, her radiant smile. She wasn’t a princess anymore, wearing the simpler dress. She was just Ivetta, the innocent young woman who had stolen my heart. I leaned down and kissed her, limiting myself to just one before I took her hand and led her through the darkened halls to the lawn outside. It was a clear night, well-lit by a full moon and a million stars. We passed the church in silence, and the Hill of Remembrance spread out before us, row after row of the white monuments, so bright that they almost glowed in the moonlight.
“He bowed to me, and he called me milady,” she said softly.
“As was his duty,” I replied. “I assigned him to you. He needed no further explanation to know that you were important to me.”
She bit her lip, lost in thought for a moment. There would probably be a lot of that tonight. But she needed to get it all out. I suspected that her late night study sessions were a way to avoid the nightmares that were beginning to plague her sleep again.
“I wish…I wish I’d gone back with you. If I had…he wouldn’t have died.”
I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It was my mistake to send him alone.”
She shook her head, blinking tears back. “Then there would have been two bodies for me to trip over. And maybe the neighbors would have woken up, and…”
I stopped and turned her to face me, tilting her chin up while maintaining a firm grip on her hand. The moonlight reflected off the tears in her eyes, tears that she was steadfastly refusing to let fall.
“It’s in the past, Ivetta.”
“I know,” she said miserably, stepping forward and leaning her forehead on my chest. I released her hand and wrapped my arms around her, kissing the top of her head, but she still didn’t cry. She took a deep, shaky breath, and then she asked, “How much further is it?”
“Not far. Can you make it?”
She looked up at me and nodded. “Let’s go.”
I slid one arm down around her waist, and then we started walking again. Blade was waiting where I’d left him, saddled and tied to a tree branch a few feet away from the grave of the knight in question. He stamped his hoof and nickered as we approached.
“Is that Blade?” she asked, her green eyes wide as she looked at him in awe.
I smiled to myself. This was her first time seeing him, and he was an impressive horse.
“If you’re feeling up to it, I thought we could go to your Mother’s grave, too.” And enjoy a brief distraction from her grief with a moonlit ride.
She looked back to the grave. “Oh, you remembered the flowers,” she said, noticing the bouquet of red roses I’d left at its feet.
“Of course.”
“Could I…have a minute?”
“Yes.” I kissed her cheek as I released her, and then I walked over to Blade. He nuzzled my shoulder as I untied his reins.
“Soon,” I promised, stroking his muzzle. “And remember to behave.” I glanced over at her, kneeling in front of the grave with her eyes closed, as she’d done the last time we were here. Blade pushed his nose against me again, impatient to get moving. I’d taken him out earlier in the afternoon, placed the bouquets of roses here and at her mother’s grave, and then gone for a long ride to wear him down a bit for this. There was no way she could handle him fresh out of the stables. Even now, he was possibly a bit too energetic.
“He really likes you,” she commented, smiling as she came to my side. She stayed a bit behind me, intimidated by Blade. Rightly so. The top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder.
“Here.” I dropped the reins and took one of her hands in mine, holding it with my palm flat against the back of her hand and interlacing my fingers between hers. “Let him smell you.”
This was the real test. Blade hadn’t objected to her presence the last time he’d carried her, in part because he was worn down from a long day’s journey and an evening’s battle, in part because she was little more than a bloody bundle in my arms. Now she would be riding him properly. It would be best for him to actually like her, not just grudgingly accept my orders.
Her green eyes were wide as his muzzle brushed against her palm, his nostrils flaring as he investigated her. I’d seen him roll the whites of his eyes and bite the stable boys at this point, and I was prepared to yank her back at the first sign of trouble. But he ducked his head down and pushed his muzzle firmly into her hand. I released it with a chuckle. She could charm a headstrong cavalry charger just as well as his rider.
“I thought he’d like you.” I patted Blade’s forehead fondly. “Are you ready to ride him?”
“Um, I guess so,” she said nervously, although she looked like she was afraid to move. Blade was nuzzling her insistently for more attention. I put a hand on her shoulder and steered her over to his side, lightly smacking him on the muzzle with my other hand as I smirked. He was suddenly acting like a child’s pony.
“Shouldn’t you pick those up?” she asked, looking nervously at the reins hanging loosely from his bridle.
“He won’t move. Ready?”
I saw the hesitation in her eyes and didn’t wait for an answer, spinning her to face me and lifting her by her waist up into the saddle. She gasped and clutched desperately at the leather, but Blade stood perfectly still as I settled her in the seat. Her knuckles were white, and she was staring at me as if I held her life in my hands. Which I did. Blade was facing straight ahead, his ears rotated back attentively. A single word would send him galloping away at top speed. But she didn’t need to know that. I grinned, handing her the reins and mounting up behind her.
“You’ll have to turn and swing your other leg over,” I said, reaching around her to take the reins back. “The proper way for you to ride is side-saddle, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to ride that way, and Blade doesn’t, either.”
She stared up at me in shock. “But - I’ve never even been on a horse,” she protested.
I kissed her cheek again. “You have to learn.”
“The right way,” she countered quickly. “You just said the proper way is side-saddle. And I’m in a skirt, and-”
I cut her off with a kiss on the lips, immediately rewarded by her relaxing in my arms.
Maybe I would just give Blade the command and forget about the riding lesson. There was great appeal in taking this time to kiss her senseless.
“You don’t play fair,” she muttered when I finally released her, awkwardly getting her right leg over Blade’s neck so she was facing forward. Her skirt rode up to her knees, exposing enough skin to send a thrill through me until I noticed the scars.
“It’s a good thing I’m wearing this dress,” she quipped nervously, distracting me from my darkening thoughts. “My regular dresses wouldn’t allow me to ride anything but side-saddle.”
I chuckled and placed the reins in her hands. Scars or not, she was still the most beautiful woman I knew. “You won’t be able to reach the stirrups, but you can take the reins.”
“Oh - you mean-” The sudden alarm in her voice caused me to slide forward, pressing firmly into her back to give her a sense of security, but then I noticed the redness of her ears and realized with amusement that Blade was not her only concern right now. “Maybe I could just sit here, and you could steer the horse?” she asked hesitantly.
“You’re not afraid, are you?” I teased.
“Well, it’s dark…”
That was a pitiful excuse, but before I could respond with another teasing remark, she stiffened against me, trembling slightly.
“Ivetta?” I asked, all excitement vanishing as a shiver of fear ran through her.
“It was dark when I was captured, too,” she said quietly. “I was on a horse then - but not like this.”
Was there a single thought, a single action unaffected by the horrors of those few days?
“It was dark when I rescued you, too, little dove,” I breathed in her ear. “And you were on this horse - in my arms.” Then I kicked Blade into motion, much faster than would be recommended for a novice rider, not fast enough to leave the memories behind. Ivetta gasped and clutched the reins tightly.
“Relax,” I said calmly. “I didn’t let you fall then, and I’m not going to let you fall now.”
She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Pull back on the reins, like this,” I said, my hands guiding hers. Blade responded immediately, slowing to a walk. “Better?”
“Yes,” she said, relaxing back against me. I smiled to myself. The night of her capture was forgotten, at least for the moment.
“We’re not done,” I said. “There is much to learn.”
We rode through the night to the churchyard. She was as attentive as always, quick to learn, eager to please. It was rare for me to instruct anybody, rarer still for me to enjoy it, and I’d never willingly offered to do so. But then, she’d always had a strange effect on me. By the time we arrived, she was in full control of Blade. I could feel her excitement through my arms, wrapped tightly around her waist, as she brought him to a stop.
“You learn quickly,” I said, squeezing her gently before I dismounted. “Slide your left foot down into the stirrup and hold the reins in your left hand. Then swing your right foot over and down. Grip the saddle with your right hand if you need to.” She did so, and I reached up to her waist to steady her. “Now, bring your left foot down. Good.” I pulled her back against me and kissed her neck.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” she gasped, smiling widely as I took the reins from her. The stars danced in her green eyes as she looked up at me. I tied Blade to a fencepost and slipped an arm around her waist.
“Come.”
The church cemetery was much smaller than the Hill of Remembrance. We walked slowly, passing grave after grave, some with elaborate headstones, some with little more than a wooden cross, and her smile faded with each step.
“Did you remember the bouquet?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” I reassured her. “Up ahead.”
She gasped when she saw it, resting at the base of her mother’s marble headstone. The top of the headstone bore an engraving of her mother’s name while the bottom featured a single rose etched into the stone. She knelt in the young grass that had overtaken the grave, her fingers tracing the name. I knelt beside her.
“She would have loved this headstone,” she said quietly. “And the flowers. Thank you.”
I didn’t respond, watching her expression carefully. She seemed intensely sorrowful and contentedly happy, somehow, at the same time. After a while, I said, “If you would like to add anything, I can arrange it.”
“Add anything?” she asked, looking up at me in surprise.
I nodded. “Dates, a quote, her title. I didn’t want to wake you to ask.”
She looked back at the headstone thoughtfully. “You really did take care of everything, didn’t you?”
“Naturally. You had done more than enough for her, little dove.”
I brushed the first tear from her cheek as more threatened to spill from her eyes. At least there wasn’t a trace of the pained anguish I had seen in her face the morning after her mother died. That was her immediate reaction to loss; this was her time to mourn, to say goodbye, to let go. Our discussion after that first visit to the Hill of Remembrance came to mind, and I hoped this would be what she needed to move on. Before the nightmares got to the point where she couldn't sleep at all.
Although I did have a solution for that possibility. The spot at my right side in my bed was still waiting for her.
She took a deep, shaky breath. “She did everything for me until she got sick. I just wanted to take care of her like she took care of me.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her to my side.
“I was trying to picture the funeral when I woke up in that dungeon. It was…it was a relief to know that she didn’t need to be taken care of anymore. That it happened after she…”
How typical of her to think of others even while she suffered.
“It would have been the perfect day for a funeral,” I said quietly.
“You were there?” she asked, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“I told you I’d have a carriage pick you up.”
“Yes, but…I guess I didn’t know you were coming with it.”
“I wanted to be there for you, Ivetta.” I kissed the top of her head. “Like I am now.”
Her hand found mine and gave it a squeeze. “Could you tell me about it? What there was of it?”
“Yes, but there isn’t much to tell. The priest was waiting for you to arrive when your neighbor, John Stotts, arrived with the news that you were missing. The funeral was postponed after that.”
“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.” She sighed. “How long was the funeral postponed?”
“Until I found you. I saw no sense in postponing further when it was clear you would be unable to attend for some time.” And it was still unclear whether she would pull through, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Did you go? The second time?”
“No. You were still unconscious, and I had promised I wouldn’t leave you.” I kissed the top of her head again. “But I received a full report from Stotts. Would you like to hear about it?”
She nodded. “Was…was it a sunny day?”
“Yes, it was. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”
“I’m glad, although she wouldn’t have minded if it were raining.” She smiled again as the memories came back. “As a child, I was scared of everything, especially thunderstorms. And Mother didn’t want me to be afraid. So, when it started to rain, she would sit in the open doorway, holding me on her lap, and she would sing to me.” She looked back up at me. “The song I’m always humming, actually.”
I sat down cross-legged and pulled her onto my lap. “Like this?”
She closed her eyes and laid her head against my chest. “Just like this.”
“Were there a lot of people there? At the funeral?” she asked as I wrapped my arms around her and stroked her hair.
“Most of the village. Your mother was well liked.” I kissed the top of her head again. “And so was her daughter.”
“She was always so kind, even when people were cruel to us. It’s hard not to like somebody like that.”
I frowned at her words. “It is difficult to believe anybody could be cruel to you. Even having seen the evidence,” I added, one hand trailing lightly down the fabric concealing one of her legs.
“That tickles,” she protested, squirming.
Not my intention, but I couldn’t resist teasing her about this newfound weakness.
“Oh?” I asked, repeating the action.
“Chevalier, we’re in a cemetery,” she scolded, trying not to giggle. “Mother liked you, but I don’t think she’d approve.”
I chuckled. “I’ll stop.” For now.
“Good.” She snuggled up closer to me again, straightening her skirt. “What…what did she say in the letter she wrote to you?”
“You knew about that?” I asked, surprised. She hadn’t said a word about it to me before, so I hadn’t thought she’d known.
“I saw it when I was packing my bag,” she replied, looking up at me curiously. “I couldn’t read it, but your name was at the top.”
I thought for a moment, trying to determine how much to tell her.
“She asked me to take care of you,” I finally said, deciding the simple summary would do for now.
“Oh,” she said, the word almost a gasp of surprise. She laid her head against my chest again, stunned into silence.
“She did everything for you,” I continued. “You were the reason for every decision she made.”
She didn’t respond, nuzzling her cheek into my chest as the tears flowed freely. I’d have to read her the letter in its entirety at some point, but she didn’t need to know all the details right now. Now, she just needed me to hold her while she cried.
I rested my cheek on top of her head. As much as I hated to see her cry, I’d always enjoyed holding her like this.
“Chevalier…something’s happening here,” she finally said. She paused, and then she looked up at me. “We’re fixing the memories. From when I was captured.” She laid her head against my chest again as I waited curiously. “I was picturing the funeral, and remembering Mother, and…thinking of you…but it was all different. It was pitch black, and I was cold, and everything hurt, and I was so scared.” A shiver ran through her, and I automatically tightened my arms protectively around her. “But now, we’re going through the same thoughts and memories, and the moon and stars are so bright, and I’m warm and safe, and you’re here…”
She’d told Belle the details of what had occurred, but she hadn’t told me. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to hear about it. The broad brush strokes she painted with those few words - pitch black, cold, hurt, scared - they were more than sufficient to make my blood boil all over again. The memory flashed through my mind again, her hanging from the ceiling like a side of meat, covered in blood, her unrecognizable face as she lifted it to look at me.
It was a long time before I spoke again.
“She asked me to take care of you, and I immediately failed,” I said bitterly.
“No…no, you didn’t. You came for me when I didn’t think anybody was coming at all.” She looked up at me with no anger in her eyes, just grief. “Why would they do that, Chevalier? Why would anybody do that?”
I gently pulled her closer to my chest. She relaxed against me, but I remained tense. “Capture and torture are useful methods of obtaining information about an enemy. But the information needs to be worth the effort, and the methods need to be tailored toward the target. If they had done their research, they would have known that you would be of no use to them. And even if you knew something, their use of force was excessive.” I spoke clinically, detaching myself from the situation to give her a realistic answer, though even my cold logic couldn’t fully explain what they’d done to her.
“I know they were members of the anti-war faction, but their questions didn’t make sense to me. None of it made sense. Even after you explained it to me.”
“You can’t understand them, Ivetta, nor should you.” My finger gently traced her face, as it had the first time after she woke up. She was always making an effort to understand, to know the heart hidden within the person, but this was something she could never grasp. It never should make sense to her.
She looked back at her mother’s gravestone. “Did you kill them all?”
“All who participated in your capture. They were a small minority of the faction, which was happy to give up those connected to the incident for appropriate punishment. It is, after all, a pacifist movement, and the actions of your captors sullied the reputation of the whole.”
“I’m sorry you had to shed more blood, Chevalier,” she said softly.
I gently turned her face back to mine. “The man who used you as a shield worked here in the palace. He was the informant who let the assassin in, and he was one of the men who captured you. Are you sorry about him?”
There was a flash of pain in her green eyes. “He was one of the men who tortured me, too. He started beating me before they even asked any questions. I can’t say I am sorry about him.” She shivered again. “When you came…I wasn’t afraid anymore. Even when he had a knife on me. As long as I knew you were there, I felt safe.”
I kissed her, wishing once again I’d ignored her voice and beheaded him immediately. “You’ll always be safe with me, little dove.”
“I know,” she said, smiling up at me.
We stayed there in the graveyard until the church bell struck midnight. She asked me more questions about the funeral, and she told me more about her mother, but we didn’t speak of the capture anymore. As the final bell tolled, we were silent, a cool night breeze rustling the flowers on her mother’s grave. She sat in front of me, wrapped up in my embrace, leaning back against my chest. Safe. Never to be mistreated or abused again.
“We should go,” she finally said, reluctantly.
I turned her face toward mine and gave her a long, lingering kiss, and then I stood up, pulling her to her feet and leading her back to Blade. There were no lessons now; I lifted her up without a word and settled in behind her, taking the reins and guiding us the long way around the village and the town.
“Chevalier?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“I wish you could have met my mother.”
“I feel as though I have,” I replied, kissing her hair as she leaned back against me.26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRNPOZ30SPY
