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There were bruises on my wrists and shoulders the next morning, plus the scratches on my chest. The marks on my shoulders and chest wouldn’t be too hard to hide, but the ones on my wrists would be tricky. This time of year, all the maids wore short-sleeved uniforms. I would have to wear a long-sleeved uniform and hope it wasn’t too conspicuous. And I would have to be careful not to roll my sleeves up when I was cleaning.
Mother was too ill to pay close attention to me before I left. I made it out the door without her noticing a problem. That bothered me, but I couldn’t think about it, especially not when I was walking to the palace. I took a detour around the red-light district and kept my eyes peeled for him, although I knew he’d be too busy sleeping off a hangover to bother with me. It was still a massive relief when the city fell away behind me. My next challenge was the other servants at the palace. I needed to change and slip my torn uniform into the laundry without being seen.
And then there was Prince Chevalier.
He would know something was wrong, no matter how well I hid it. I had to come up with believable excuses to keep him off my back. If he knew the truth, he’d probably just laugh and mock me for being a foolish little dove who flew into a trap. And he would be right. I should have been paying closer attention.
I changed and disposed of the torn uniform with no problems, ordered his breakfast, and went to his room to clean. At nine o’clock, I greeted him and threw open his drapes. I thought I had a fairly good chance of getting away without telling him anything as long as I followed the normal routine.
“You’re not humming,” he mumbled from somewhere under the sheets.
I didn’t think about that.
“My throat’s a little sore this morning, Prince Chevalier,” I said dismissively, hoping that would satisfy him. I wasn’t in the mood to talk today anyway, so the sore throat story would work well in that respect, too.
He didn’t reply, and he didn’t ask any further questions, but I felt his eyes on me as I worked. It was discomforting. He knew something was wrong. I reminded myself to stay calm, to think clearly, not to volunteer anything, not to even think about what happened.
The thoughts came unbidden, though, crowding at the edges of my mind, suffocating me. I would have to take the detour again this evening. Probably forever, actually. I couldn’t risk running into him. But what if he came to my house?
No. I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to focus and keep my composure.
“Roll up your sleeves.”
“Prince Chevalier?” I asked, startled.
He’d finished breakfast, but instead of leaving as he usually did, he’d walked up to me without my noticing.
“You heard me.”
His icy blue eyes penetrated straight through me, and I realized with a sinking feeling that there was no way out of this. I couldn’t very well refuse such a simple order. I dropped my gaze to my hands and reluctantly complied, trying to think of how to explain the bruises. He took my hands in his and examined my wrists while my heart started pounding all over again. I needed to think of an excuse, something plausible, but nothing would come to me.
“Are there more?”
I hesitated, unsure of what to say.
“Show me.”
“I don’t-”
“Show me.”
I felt like a child, but there was no use arguing with him. I pulled my collar to the side, exposing one shoulder for just a second. His black gloves caught the fabric as I released it, pulling it back again as he inspected the bruises. This was humiliating.
“Prince Chevalier-”
“Anywhere else?” he asked, baring my other shoulder as he examined it.
I took a step back from him, straightening my collar. “Nowhere I’m showing you,” I said quietly but firmly. My cheeks were burning with shame.
His fingers touched the skin just above the neckline of my dress. I swatted his hand away and hid the scratches with my other hand, but one look at his face told me he’d at least partially seen them.
“Who did this?”
“It’s none of your business, your highness.”
I felt more miserable the more I thought about it. My heart was racing underneath my trembling hand, and I looked away, wishing he’d just drop it. He stepped closer to me, catching my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Who?”
I pushed his hand away and stepped back again.
“Don’t pretend you care, Prince Chevalier,” I snapped. “I’m just a useful tool, remember?”
His eyes widened in surprise as he stared down at me. I felt like I was about to cry, and I didn’t even know why. Anger, fear, frustration, guilt - too many emotions flooded over me, too many to name, too many to feel. I turned away quickly, afraid to look at him anymore, afraid of his critical gaze.
“Tell me what happened,” he commanded, his voice hard and cold.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Prince Chevalier,” I said, wincing at how weak and shaky my voice came out.
He gently turned me back toward him. “Tell me,” he repeated, his voice strangely soft this time.
“Please, just leave me alone,” I begged, nervously clutching at the collar of my dress.
“No,” he said firmly.
If I didn't come up with something, he’d never drop it. I let out a frustrated sigh, trying to sort the words and ideas floating around my head into something that made sense.
“I…ran into some trouble…last night,” I stammered.
That wasn’t good enough. I knew that wasn’t good enough. Why couldn’t I think?
“What kind of trouble?”
I hugged myself, wishing there was something I could come up with, anything other than the truth.
“A…a man in…in the red-light district,” I finally said in a small voice.
“What did he do to you?” he pressed on, the low threat I recognized all too well creeping into his voice.
I shook my head. “Please don’t make me talk about it,” I choked, a tear escaping to slide down my cheek.
He led me over to the sofa at the foot of his bed and sat down beside me. “I need to know,” he said, wiping the tear from my cheek with a light finger.
“He didn’t…I got away before…” I choked again and turned away quickly, burying my face in my hands as the tears burst forth. I hated this. Why was he making me talk about this? Why couldn’t he just let me forget about it? Why did he even care?
His arms wrapped around me and pulled me toward him. There was something simultaneously comforting and unnerving in his embrace, but I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. The tears just wouldn't stop. I hated this feeling - that I was weak and vulnerable and needed somebody to protect me. I’d felt this way before, when I was little and having problems with bullies. Mother had taken care of me then, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I could take care of myself now. I’d gotten away by myself, hadn’t I? And I certainly didn’t need any princes fighting my battles for me. This wouldn’t have happened if they’d just left me alone in the first place.
Why was he holding me like this?
My hands were a barrier between my face and his firm chest, and I kept them there, afraid to move them for fear I’d end up clutching at his shirt. His arms were strong and secure around my shoulders, and when my crying finally subsided, they didn’t leave me. I was trembling; he was stroking my hair.
“I need you to tell me,” he finally said.
I stiffened and pulled free, wiping my face with my apron and keeping my eyes on my lap. There was no use arguing anymore. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“He’s been trying to recruit me for a few years,” I finally said, my voice flat and monotone. “He just got a little rough last night, that’s all. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. How old are you?”
Why did that matter?
“Eighteen.”
“And this has been going on for a few years?” There was a touch of incredulity in his voice.
I nodded. “It’s never been this bad before.”
“How did it happen?”
He just wouldn’t let up. I told him what happened. Why wouldn’t he leave it alone?
“It’s always the same. He grabs me off the street and drags me into his brothel. This time, he-” I swallowed hard. He didn’t need to know the details. “He was drunk. I got away. That’s all.” I paused. “It’s my fault for not paying attention,” I added miserably.
Prince Chevalier was silent for a moment.
“Does he know where you live?”
I nodded.
“Has he ever come to your house?”
I nodded again.
“And your mother?”
“He tried to recruit her when I was a child. But she doesn’t know about this.”
And I never wanted her to find out.
He stood up. “Black handles domestic affairs. I’ll be right back.”
No. That was the last thing I wanted - more people to know. I stood up and grabbed at his cloak.
“Please don’t tell him,” I begged, desperation driving me to meet his cold blue eyes as he turned back to look at me. “I don’t want anybody to know.”
He gently pried my fingers loose, his hands wrapping around mine. “Sexual assault and prostitution are illegal. He’ll be able to find and arrest this man so he won’t hurt you again.”
The sharpness of his gaze was somewhat softened as he looked down at me. That, more than anything, drove home the point that I couldn’t fight him on this, either. I relented with a silent nod.
“Wait here.”
He released my hand and left. I collapsed on the sofa, putting my face in my hands again. My head was throbbing. I always got a headache after crying, and I hadn’t recovered from my headache yesterday. I needed to pull myself together. Prince Leon was going to ask more questions, and I couldn’t keep falling apart like this. Hadn’t I cried enough last night? Why couldn’t I just get over it and move on?
I don’t know how long Prince Chevalier was gone. It was long enough for me to have some semblance of control when he returned, accompanied by Prince Leon. Prince Chevalier stayed at the door, leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Prince Leon sat beside me on the sofa.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Chevalier had some trouble tracking me down,” he said apologetically. “He filled me in on what happened. You doing okay?”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on my lap. “I’m fine, your highness,” I said quietly, knowing he wouldn’t believe me.
“I know you already told Chevalier, but do you think you could tell me, too?”
I nodded and took a deep breath. If I could just get it all out at once, then I’d be done with it. I clenched my hands in my lap and repeated everything in the same flat monotone I’d used when I told Prince Chevalier. This time, I got through it in a more coherent manner and without crying. Not that it was any easier to say.
“I’m sorry to have to ask this, Ivetta, but I need to see the marks, too.”
Prince Leon’s voice was soft, but there was an edge of anger in it. I rolled up my sleeves without a word, and then I showed him one shoulder at a time, and I briefly pulled down my collar less than an inch for him to see the scratches.
“How long are those?”
There was a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. Prince Chevalier hadn’t moved the entire time, but he’d looked up at that. I could feel his eyes on me. My hands reluctantly drew symmetrical horizontal lines from the center of my chest across each breast.
“He must have torn your dress,” Prince Leon said quietly.
I nodded. “It’s in the laundry.”
Prince Chevalier slipped out the door. To the laundry, I was sure. I hadn’t wanted anybody to connect that torn uniform with me, and now Prince Chevalier was going to see it, and he’d show Prince Leon, too. It made me feel sick again.
“One more thing, and then I’ll leave you alone,” Prince Leon’s soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “What’s his name?”
“Jack. I don’t know his last name. He lives in a brothel on the corner of fifteenth and second street. It just looks like an abandoned building from the outside.”
“I think I know where that is. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this right away.” He stood up and patted me on the head. “You stay right here. I’m just going to talk to Chevalier for a minute.”
I heard the door open and close again. He was waiting for Prince Chevalier. They were going to talk about me and about what had happened. I hated this. If only Prince Chevalier hadn’t found out.
Eventually, the door opened and closed again, and Prince Chevalier came to a stop in front of me. I was still staring at my hands, wringing nervously in my lap. He sighed, and then he sat down beside me.
“Don’t try to hide something like this from me again. Do you understand?”
His stern tone made me feel even more like a guilty child.
“Yes, your highness,” I said, my voice small and soft.
“You should stay here tonight.”
“Prince Chevalier-” I started, looking up at him in a panic.
“I know,” he interrupted, his brow slightly furrowed with irritation. “I’ll arrange a carriage for you.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I whispered, dropping my gaze to my hands again.
“Then explain.”
I swallowed hard. “He’d seen me in the town - and at the festival - and he thought I was-” I paused, swallowed, tried again. “It will only make things worse.”
Prince Chevalier was silent for a moment. “Black will have him in custody soon. We will reevaluate the situation then.” He stood up again. “Stay here as long as you like.”
He left without further word. I sat still for a moment. Now he thought I was a fragile creature that needed his protection. Well, I wasn’t, and I didn’t. There was no need for me to hide in his room all day. I set my jaw and went to the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water and making myself presentable again. As long as I kept my head down for a little while, nobody would know that I’d been crying. I went back to his desk, collected his dirty dishes on the tray, and set off for the kitchens. I didn’t need to hide. From now on, it would be business as usual.
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