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There were far too many people in my room when I was just trying to get dressed.
“Theresa, shut the door!” I exclaimed, darting behind the dressing screen, which was closer than the bathroom. I was still in my chemise and drawers. The doctor, my first embarrassing interruption of the day, followed me.
“Oh, my gosh, it’s beautiful!” Theresa squealed.
“I’m sure it is, but I don’t need the entire palace watching me dress!”
She poked her head around the dressing screen with a wide grin. “You’re going to love it!”
“I would love some privacy, Theresa,” I said through gritted teeth, wishing I’d run into the bathroom instead. Then I would have a solid door between me, the horde of seamstresses who burst into my room without so much as knocking, and whoever else thought today was a good day to see me in my undergarments.
“The door’s closed,” Theresa announced. “Come on, you need to see this.”
“Go on. I’m done,” the doctor said, his smile deepening his wrinkles. “You’re perfectly healthy, and I hope you won’t need me again for a long time.”
Theresa seized the opportunity, and my wrist, dragging me out from behind the dressing screen and into the crowd. They swarmed me, stripping my chemise and strapping me into a corset before I registered what was happening. A flurry of faces, clothes, and excited voices ensued, and suddenly I was standing in front of my full-length mirror, stunned.
“This…is mine?”
The ball gown was more beautiful than anything I’d imagined. Dark green silk clung to my shoulders with low straps set wide apart, blending into short sleeves of gauzy material in the same dark green. The wide neckline was low cut on the front, but high at the back, with several layers of gauze blossoming from the center of my chest like a rose. Close-fitting silk hugged my torso until it reached my hips, where layers of gauze and more silk bloomed into the floor-length skirt. A pair of silk gloves extending past my elbows, along with silk stockings and high-heeled shoes that were mostly hidden, completed the ensemble. It was alluring, and modest, and fit me like a glove. Not a single scar was visible.
“You really look like a princess,” Theresa gasped.
I nodded, dumbstruck.
“It brings out your eyes, your highness,” a seamstress with curly blonde hair said, circling me and tapping a finger thoughtfully to her chin. “And the shape and cut compliment your figure wonderfully. King Chevalier has a good eye. The few alterations we had to make don’t detract from his original design at all.”
“What?” I asked, all the air leaving my lungs in that one syllable.
“Sariel brought us the king’s sketch the day after you returned to the palace, your highness,” a brunette said, moving in with a tape measure. “It didn’t account for your scars, of course, but raising the collar at the back and adding the sleeves and gloves took care of that.”
It was a good thing none of the seamstresses bumped me while they took their measurements, because the slightest touch would have knocked me off my feet. Chevalier designed this gorgeous dress for me, and he did it before anything happened to me. That was why Sariel waited to discuss my wardrobe until Chevalier arrived that first day after my lessons. They wanted my input before Sariel took the sketch to the seamstresses. Because as far back as the gala, maybe even earlier, Chevalier knew I’d be by his side at his coronation ceremony.
I think I forgot to breathe until Theresa spoke again.
“Oh, we have a problem,” she said, her smile falling. “There’s no way anything I can do with your hair would do that dress justice."
And, just like that, the moment was gone. The seamstresses were undressing me as quickly as they dressed me, and then the door flew open again. I shrieked and clutched the bodice to my chest. Fortunately, the swarm of women blocked my view of the door, which I hoped meant they blocked me from whoever just barged into my room.
“Get out!” Theresa shouted.
“I’m sorry! I’m leaving!” Yves exclaimed.
The door slammed shut. I put my face in my hands as the seamstresses resumed stripping me.
“Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?” I moaned.
I can only assume the doctor escaped somewhere in the chaos, because he was gone when I sat in front of the vanity a few minutes later, fully dressed, while Yves and Theresa brushed, braided, and styled my hair in more combinations than I ever knew were possible. Because that’s why Yves came. To practice doing my hair for the coronation ceremony. I knew he paid particular attention to his appearance, including his hair, but I didn’t know he did other people’s hair. After that revelation, and the news that Chevalier could design clothing for events no one else could foresee, I thought I was ready for anything. Nothing else could surprise me.
I was wrong.
Sariel’s schedule for the day surprised me. I didn’t know how much the doctor’s restrictions spared me until I was sitting there, listening to the endless list of things I had to do in just one day. Bookwork, practical lessons covering such things as etiquette, social introductions, posture, and dance - those were things I expected. A tour of the stables with Licht and an introduction to my horse, newly imported from Jade, was not. At least I didn’t have to worry about riding lessons until after the ceremony. But then I was back inside before I fully processed the fact that I had a horse, eating lunch under Sariel’s critical gaze while Theresa danced like a marionette for him, and we spent the rest of the afternoon performing the part of princess and maid for him. Everything had to be perfect.
I knew why he was being so strict. These were the final preparations for the coronation ceremony. There would be no lessons that day, no room for error. What I said and did could mean the difference between acceptance and condemnation, both of me and of my relationship with Chevalier. There was no changing my first impression.
I was exhausted when evening came, but my mind wouldn’t stop.
“What a day,” Theresa sighed, dropping onto the sofa next to me. “Am I allowed to talk to you normally now?”
“Yes,” I said, mimicking her sigh. “If the door’s closed, and it’s just us, it’s fine.”
She blew out a deep breath. “Good, because it takes too much time to say ‘Princess Ivetta’ or ‘your highness’ all the time. Leon didn’t even make me do that.”
“I hope you never called him ‘Princess Ivetta.’”
“Very funny,” she said dryly.
I shrugged. “It’s the best I’ve got right now.”
We sat in weary silence until we heard a knock at the door. Even then, we both stared at it for a moment before either of us spoke.
“I told Julius to behead the next person who tried to come in here without knocking.”
“You’re kidding,” Theresa said, standing up reluctantly.
“I’m not.”
She put her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and transformed into a model maid, eager and ready to please, bright-eyed and wearing a perfect smile. I would have giggled if I weren’t busy fixing my posture and expression in case Sariel was dropping by to surprise us.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Theresa said, her facade crumbling as soon as she opened the door. “You can relax, Ivetta. It’s just the king. When do you want me back?”
A surge of excitement brought me to my feet and a smile to my face as Chevalier swept into the room. He sent me a sidelong glance and a small, one-sided smile, but he stopped at the bureau instead of crossing the room to me.
“Hello, Chevalier. I didn’t think I’d see you today.”
“We’re going out,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a dress. “Wear this. I’ll wait outside.”
He handed Theresa the dress and left as quickly as he came. Theresa looked at it and back at me.
“I guess you can’t refuse,” she said, holding it up by the shoulders so it could unfold in front of her. It was the simple dress with a green skirt. “And this is still his favorite, huh?”
“I could refuse,” I replied, still smiling and suddenly full of energy as I went behind the dressing screen. “But I don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to hide back there,” she remarked with a smirk, following me into the corner. “I doubt Chevalier will let anybody in here while you’re changing.”
“The curtains are still open,” I pointed out.
“Unless talking birds are spying on you, that isn’t actually a problem,” she laughed, undoing the buttons at the back of my dress. “So, where do you think he’s taking you?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”
“Should I wait up for you?” she teased.
“Probably not,” I said, my cheeks warming at her insinuation. “I won’t need your help to change out of that dress when I get back, anyway, so you should sleep while you can.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, freeing me of my corset and taking it and my fancy dress away. “You are so lucky you don’t have to answer to Marge anymore. She was on my case all morning.”
“Why?” I asked, reveling in the soft, comfortable fabric of the commoners’ dress against my skin. Maybe the nobility would be nicer if they wore comfortable clothes like this, I thought.
“It’s not just me,” Theresa amended herself. “The goodwill gala is annual, but the king’s coronation is a once in a lifetime event. And this is your debut as a princess. She’s terrified you’ll look for any opportunity to take revenge on her, so she’s obsessing over every little detail.”
“I don’t want revenge,” I said, twisting my arms to reach the laces at the back of my dress. “Okay, I’ve done this by myself before, but a little help would be nice.”
Theresa came around the dressing screen and made quick work of the laces and buttons. “I know you’re not the vengeful type, but it’s fun watching her squirm. He likes your hair down, right? Let me get these pins before you go.”
I helped her pluck the hair pins out, and then I rushed to the door, bypassing my vanity and my hairbrush.
“Wait! Shouldn’t I brush your hair first?”
“Does it look bad?” I asked, freezing with my hand on the doorknob.
She laughed. “No, it doesn’t. Go on your date and have fun.”
“Thanks, Theresa!” I called, throwing the door open.
“I’m using your bath salts,” she called after me.
I blushed on her behalf as I smiled shyly up at Chevalier. The warmth in his crystal blue eyes told me he would have kissed me if my guards weren’t watching.
“I’m ready,” I said, taking his arm. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
It only took a few steps for me to realize something was missing. I looked back over my shoulder and saw my guards, still standing outside my door, not following us.
“Chevalier?”
“You don’t need them when you’re with me,” he said, smiling down at me. I didn’t know that smile was exactly what I needed until I saw it. The butterflies in my stomach and warm fuzziness wrapping around my heart made me want to burst. I settled for hugging his arm instead.
“No, I guess not. But can’t they take a break? Until we get back?”
“I don’t know when that will be, and I don’t want to waste time looking for them when we return.”
“You don’t know?” I asked, resting my cheek against his arm and looking up at him. That seemed improbable, especially since he designed a ball gown for me before anybody knew I was anything more than a maid.
Well, anybody other than him. Because he knew that before the gala.
We turned down a dark, empty hallway where the faint scent of smoke still lingered in the air from the recently doused wall sconces. Suddenly, Chevalier grabbed me and shoved me into an alcove and against the wall, kissing me before I could react. My heart sped up and out of control. He held my shoulders, and I clung to his arms, drowning in his taste, his scent, his feel, until he broke the kiss and left me panting for breath.
“I don’t know,” he said, as breathless as I was, “because you continue to surprise me, and I lose my head around you.”
He kissed me again, soft and sweet after the fiery intensity of his first kiss, tugging lightly on my upper lip but going no further than that.
“Sorry,” I whispered, kissing him back.
“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, trading me kiss for kiss. “It’s a good thing.”
“Is this where you were taking me?” I asked between kisses. “A dark, deserted hallway?”
“No. This was simply my first opportunity to kiss you.”
“Should we go, then?”
“Not yet.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t even care that the shallow alcove would do little to hide us if someone rounded the corner. The last time I saw him was the previous evening, when he stopped by the library only long enough to tell me he’d be working late, and I hadn’t expected to see him at all today, with all the preparations for the coronation ceremony. Tomorrow would be just as busy. And then came the coronation ceremony, when I’d see him from a distance but wouldn’t be with him until the ball. I didn’t know if we’d get any time alone that night.
His lips left mine with a sigh that fanned my face in warmth, and he rested his forehead against mine. “This isn’t a date, Ivetta,” he said, sliding his arms around my waist. “You may not enjoy it.”
“I’m liking it so far,” I replied, hugging his waist in return.
The moonlight filtering through the window highlighted his beautiful smile. I wished I remembered the first time I saw it, but I’d been too busy denying there could ever be anything between us to take notice of it. Even when it became painfully clear that he didn’t care if I was just a maid. Even when it broke my heart to push him away.
“We should go now.”
He led me by the hand this time, traversing the hallways of a palace falling asleep until we emerged on the lawn surrounding it to the north and east. The moon was full tonight, and there were no wispy clouds to hide the millions of stars up above. It was the perfect night for a romantic, moonlit stroll. Except I saw the church up ahead, and I knew what lay behind it, and I knew where Chevalier was taking me. But if I looked up at the stars, or the soft, springy grass beneath my feet, or at his smile, I could pretend I didn’t know. Just for a little while.
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