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I wondered sometimes when it would be too much for Chevalier. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the insecurities—he was an exceptional person by all standards, but he was only human, and he didn’t get a break anymore. There was no leaving me at my bedroom door for Theresa to handle anything that came up in the night. It was always Chevalier, all the time, and that had to be tiring.
He never gave an indication it bothered him, nothing except an occasional frustrated sigh. But I’d always hated depending on anybody for anything, and I hated even more placing this burden on the man I loved the most.
That was part of the reason I was faithful to read my Bible every morning and attend church every Sunday. Chevalier was not God, and I knew I couldn’t rely on him for everything. That and my beliefs were a part of me, as much as Chevalier had become a part of me. My second half.
A half which didn’t share the part.
Sometimes, it really hurt. I’d remember reading the Bible with Mother every morning, getting ready on Sundays with her for church, sitting in the pew and sharing looks or whispered words with her during the sermon, and my chest would ache. I couldn’t do any of that with Chevalier. He wasn’t interested. And I’d known that before we got married, but I hadn’t realized how much it would bother me.
So, even though Chevalier rescued Rhodolite Foundation Day and made it amazing, and even though Leon got a hero’s welcome at the festival, along with more women throwing themselves at him than usual, and even though Theresa and Jin hit it off in a big way, when Sunday came, I felt lower than I’d felt in a long time.
Because this particular Sunday was also Mother’s birthday.
I couldn’t muster the strength to get out of bed. My chest felt heavy. I rolled away from Chevalier and curled up on the edge of the bed, as far from him as I could get. The dull throbbing that came whenever I thought about Mother was now a sharp, stabbing pain. I didn’t want Chevalier to touch me, and I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to be left alone with my misery, left alone to fall asleep and wake up when the day was over.
But I couldn’t fall asleep. I lay there in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows, the cheery rays mocking my dismal mood. Squeezing my eyes shut and pulling the blankets up over my head didn’t help. Sleep wouldn’t take me.
I heard Theresa’s knock at the door at the usual time, but I didn’t move.
“Ivetta, Theresa is here,” Chevalier mumbled.
“I’m not feeling well.”
“Ivetta?” The bed shifted as he sat up and scooted toward me. He pulled the blanket down enough to see my face, and he brushed my hair behind my ear, just like Mother used to do when I tried to hide something from her.
A lump rose in my throat.
“What’s wrong?”
I stared at the wall across from me and shook my head, blinking the tears back.
“Ivetta, look at me.”
I shook my head again. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone?
He lay down behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me flush with him. I remembered Mother’s comforting embrace, and the tears slipped free. He nuzzled into my hair and sighed.
“It’s your mother’s birthday, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“What do you want from me, little dove?”
I swallowed the lump and choked out, “Just leave me alone.”
He stiffened. I knew my words stung him, but they were the truth. Everything he did reminded me of everything she had done for me, every area of my life where she should have been there for me. She’d missed my engagement and my wedding, and she’d never see her grandchildren. I’d never be able to ask her for parenting advice or talk to her when Chevalier and I argued. She was gone.
If he wasn’t here, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. Or so I told myself.
He kissed my cheek. “If that’s what you want.”
Then he got out of bed, leaving me huddled under the blankets as he got dressed and ready for the day. The door opened and closed, and then there was nothing but silence.
It was too loud.
The blankets were too hot. The room was too bright.
My heart hurt too much.
I felt like I was suffocating.
I pushed the blankets back and sat up. My head throbbed; nausea churned my stomach; the sunlight burned my eyes. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them, rocking back and forth.
Chevalier hadn’t deserved that. He’d wanted to help, and I’d pushed him away.
But he didn’t know. He couldn’t. He’d never seen someone he loved fade away before his eyes, weakening and losing the spark of life until death took them right out of his hands.
I missed her so much.
I sat there until I couldn’t ignore nature’s call anymore. My Bible taunted me from the nightstand when I uncurled myself and slid my legs over the edge of the bed. No, not my Bible. Mother’s. With her little handwritten notes and comments littering the margins of every page.
I couldn’t read it. I couldn’t even touch it.
When I finished in the bathroom, I went back to bed without even looking at it a second time.
Hours later, the door opened again.
“Ivetta, what do you think you’re doing?” Theresa asked in a stern voice, as if she were scolding a child.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. “I know it hurts, Ivetta, but you can’t hide here all day.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, you can’t. I love my mother, too, and I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to lose her, but I can’t let you do this to yourself, or to Chevalier.”
Great, just what I needed. More pain stabbing at my heart.
“Leave him out of this.”
“I can’t do that. Not when you’re hurting him like this.”
The lump was back, and so were the tears. “Please, stop talking.”
She sighed again, exasperated, and then she yanked the blanket back, grabbing my upper arms and shaking me. “Snap out of it! You’re not helping yourself at all. Do you really think your mother would want you to do this? To push everybody away and wallow in self-pity?”
Something in me snapped. I sat up and shoved her back, anger seething in my clenched fists. “I know she wouldn’t! And every other day, I can handle it. I can move on, and smile, and live a normal life. But today, I just can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t!”
And then I crumbled. The frustration and anger melted into grief, pouring out of me in tears that I couldn’t stop, and with them came a torrent of thick, choked words.
“Your mother will be there to celebrate with you when you get engaged. She’ll get to see you in your wedding dress. I didn’t get any of that. The last my mother knew, I was exhausted, and overwhelmed, and kept up by nightmares every night, and she never got to see my life change for the better. She’ll never see her grandchildren, and I’ll never get to talk to her again.”
Theresa was hugging me now, and she was crying, too. “Oh, Ivetta…”
“Today, can I just hurt?” I begged her. “Can I just be sad?”
I sobbed until I had nothing left, nothing but numbness and emptiness. Theresa’s face was red and puffy in my blurry vision. She finally let go of me and wiped her eyes, and I collapsed on the bed, exhausted. She said something about coming right back with tea. I buried my face in the pillow, wondering if I could finally fall asleep and wake up after the day was done and over.
When the door opened again, I heard booted footsteps, not Theresa's flats. They crossed the floor to Chevalier’s side of the bed, and my stomach sank as I realized he’d come back. But of course he had. He was always there for me, always trying to help, and I’d pushed him away.
I shouldn’t have done that.
The mattress shifted as his weight settled on it.
“So, tell me about your mother.”
But that silvery voice wasn’t Chevalier’s.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head, and there was Nokto sitting next to me, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed over his chest. I stared at him, trying to reconcile the image of him in a place that belonged to Chevalier.
“What are you doing here?”
“Doing what Chevalier should be doing. Tell me about her.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my face to the pillow. “I really don’t want to talk right now.”
The door swung open again, and with it came Theresa's voice. “Back with your—what are you doing here?”
“Trying to get her out of bed.”
“Oh, good. Well, Ivetta, what’s it gonna be? Are you getting up now, or do I need to get more princes to pester you?”
I groaned and sat up. “You two won’t leave me alone, will you?”
“Nope,” Theresa confirmed in a cheerful voice as she went to my bureau. “I left you alone all morning, but it’s past noon now, and you need to get up.” She rummaged through the drawers and held up the new dress from the festival. “Here. Wear this.”
“No, Theresa, I can’t—”
“It’s bright and cheerful, and you need that right now.”
A rush of anxiety had my heart pounding out of control. I suddenly realized my arms were bare, and Nokto could see them, and although he’d seen them before, that terrified me. I couldn’t wear that dress and show even more skin. Not in front of anybody except Chevalier.
I wished he were here. I needed him here.
“Ivetta.”
But it was Nokto’s voice calling my name, not Chevalier’s.
I looked up at him and saw the concern in his crimson eyes, and I felt his hand stroking my hair. I was hugging myself, digging my fingers into my arms so hard it hurt. He hesitated, and then he pulled me into a warm embrace.
“Something else, Theresa,” he said to her. To me, he murmured, “It’s okay. I don’t mind the scars, Ivetta.”
I swallowed and whispered, “I do.”
“I know.” He continued stroking my hair; the rhythm differed from Chevalier’s, but it helped, a little. “I know.”
“Sorry, Ivetta. We’ll go with this one instead. It’s Chevalier’s favorite.”
I knew which dress she was talking about, and it wasn’t Chevalier’s favorite anymore. The new dress was. But she didn’t know that, and the dress she’d chosen covered everything, so I took a deep, shaky breath and pulled back from Nokto. He took the cue and left after one last stroke of my hair.
“I’ll wait outside.”
There was no use protesting, not with the two of them determined to get me out of my room. I let Theresa dress me and brush my hair as if I were a doll, and then I let Nokto lead me out to my favorite spot in the gardens. Theresa brought us tea and pastries, insisting I needed to eat something, and I took the cup and plate she offered me. Then I sat back against the tree trunk, legs folded up underneath me, staring unseeing out at the pond.
“It helps to talk about it,” Nokto prompted me.
I sighed and looked over at him. He lay on the grass a foot or so away from me, knees up, one ankle resting on the other knee, hands interlaced behind his head and silver hair spilling over his fingers onto the grass. It put me in mind of all the afternoons in the library when I had still been Chevalier’s maid and Nokto had come by just to talk.
And flirt, of course.
We hadn’t talked like that in a long time. Not since he’d kissed me. He’d been careful to avoid being alone with me after that, trying to respect my relationship with Chevalier. I didn’t know if he still cared about me that way.
But he was still easy to talk to. Even though I didn’t want to talk. Even though the words were hard to say at first, faltering, slow and reluctant. I forced them out, and his gentle guidance toward the good memories, the little things that made me smile, made them easier to say.
Once the words were flowing, he just listened.
But after a while, he stood and stretched. “It’s time for me to go. You don’t need me anymore.”
“What? But…” When I turned to look up at him, I saw Chevalier crossing the grass toward us, and I understood. “Thank you, Nokto.”
He gave me a lazy smile. “Anytime.”
I dropped my gaze to the untouched scone on my plate. My tea had grown cold, too. I bit my lip, wondering how long I’d been sitting out here with Nokto, how long it had been since I’d told Chevalier to leave me alone.
I needed to apologize.
He settled on the grass next to me. The musk of sweat mixed with the fragrance of rose-scented cologne told me he had been training with his knights. That wasn’t part of his usual Sunday routine, but it was something he did when he was frustrated or upset.
He put his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into him.
“I’m sorry, Chevalier.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t apologize.”
“No, I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”
“I shouldn’t have left you.”
He tilted my chin up, coaxing me to look into his beautiful blue eyes. There was no anger there, no frustration; just concern. I wrapped my arms around his torso and squeezed him tight.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
His light kiss was just what I needed. I rested my cheek against his chest, relieved to feel the security of his embrace again.
“What do you want from me, little dove?” he murmured.
He was stroking my hair in that perfect rhythm, the perfect long strokes from the top of my head to my waist.
“Can we just sit here for a while?”
He kissed the top of my head. “Yes.”
My heart still hurt, but I sighed, content to just have him hold me.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjtlFnxT8Oj
