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“Princess Ivetta?”
The two guards staring wide-eyed at me as I stepped into the hallway were the newest members of my guard detail, which probably explained why I couldn’t think of their names when I was still in a panic from the nightmare. Tyler and David. Chevalier, or Julius, or maybe both, added them to my guard detail a week before the coronation ceremony, because for reasons I couldn’t understand, ten guards weren’t enough for the big day. This was their first time paired with each other instead of a more experienced guard, and for that, I was thankful. Anybody else would have had Chevalier waiting at the door for me when I got out of the bath. These two were too new to question me.
“I’m just getting a cup of tea,” I explained with a forced smile.
They fell in step behind me without another word, their armor clanking far too loudly in the still of the dark hallways. I really hoped they wouldn’t wake up the entire palace. The last thing I wanted was somebody asking me why I was up this late and what I was doing wandering around in my dressing gown. I didn’t plan on being up long. Just long enough to make a cup of tea, maybe wash a few dishes while it was brewing, and then I’d be back in my room, behaving myself for the rest of the night. If I couldn’t get back to sleep, I’d just read.
We had almost reached Yves’ favorite kitchen when it occurred to me if anybody saw us, Tyler and David would probably get in trouble. The realization made me uncomfortable. I hadn’t even thought about that until now. Chevalier’s protective measures for me allowed a lot of freedom, but there were some areas where he wouldn’t budge, and I felt certain wandering around in the middle of the night was one of them. So, when we arrived and Tyler stepped in front of me to enter the kitchen first, I didn't argue.
“Princess Ivetta,” he said. “Please wait here.”
I nodded, but the door flew open before he touched it. He jumped back reflexively, reaching for his sword and sandwiching me between him and David.
“Ack! What is this?” Yves sputtered, grabbing his sword, too. Metal grated against sheaths as they drew, cold steel flashed, and I saw the pool of blood again, the slashed throats and sightless eyes.
“Everybody, stop!” I shouted.
Tyler and Yves froze. David had his hand on my arm, and Gilbert stood in the doorway behind Yves, his expression unreadable in the dark. My heart was pounding out of my chest.
“Ivetta? What are you doing up this late?” Yves asked.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Getting a cup of tea,” I said, shaking David’s hand off my arm. “I didn’t realize that could lead to bloodshed. Tyler, stand down.”
He slid his sword back into its sheath a bit reluctantly, I thought. “If I may ask, Prince Yves, what are you doing up this late?” he asked, his words laced with suspicion.
“If you must know, I was trying to feed a bottomless pit,” Yves said in a haughty voice, straightening his back as he sheathed his sword. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Gilbert was still eating? Just how big was his appetite?
“And discussing our upcoming trip to Obsidian,” Gilbert added casually. “Since we’re allies now, it seems high time for my dear cousin to visit his homeland, don’t you think?”
All I wanted was a cup of tea. Now, my guards were so on edge that they thought Yves, the half-Obsidianite prince, was conspiring with Gilbert against Rhodolite, and Gilbert was making it worse - intentionally. I wanted to curl up in a corner and hide. Instead, I raised my chin and spoke calmly and clearly.
“Yes, I do,” I said. “Obsidian has neglected him long enough. If you learn anything about Garnet or my parents while you’re there, Yves, I’d love to talk to you about it when you get back. Now, if you’ll all step aside, I could really use that cup of tea now.”
The moment of tense silence before they all moved lasted an eternity.
“Thank you, and goodnight.”
I resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief when I stepped into the kitchen, which looked like I felt - a mess. Individual mugs and dishes scattered around the room, neat stacks and haphazard piles of dishes in and around the sink, and the dying embers of a flame glowed a dull orange under a stove. Otherwise, the only light came from the clear night sky, bathing every surface in a soft silver. I stoked the stove to encourage the embers to burn just a little longer and selected a tea kettle. The door opened again while I was filling the kettle with water.
“Is something wrong, Ivetta?” Yves asked.
And that was why I couldn’t let myself fall apart yet. I knew he or Gilbert would follow me in.
“Just having trouble sleeping,” I said lightly, careful to keep my back to him as I set the teakettle on the stove. “But I’m sure this will do the trick. You should really try to get some sleep yourself. It’s late.”
No footsteps. A brief silence.
“Does Chevalier know you’re here?”
“No, and he doesn’t need to. Goodnight, Yves.”
He sighed. “Goodnight, Ivetta.”
Now I heard the footsteps walking away, the door opening and closing. I set my ring on the windowsill above the sink and glanced back over my shoulder to ensure he was gone before I rolled up my sleeves and started the water. The point of this foray was to get my mind off of my nightmare, not make it a reality. Washing a load of dishes might help. Even if it didn’t, it gave me something to do while I waited for the teakettle to heat up.
Cold steel. So much blood.
“No,” I said out loud, closing my eyes and shaking the thought away. The guards posted outside the kitchen door were alive and well. It wasn’t real. I wasn’t hanging in a dungeon, cut to shreds and beaten to a pulp. I was safe.
Everything was so quiet. So peaceful. The soft clinking of dishes against each other, the light splashing of hot, soapy water over my hands, the occasional crackle of the struggling embers lighting the stove. It looked quiet outside, too, under the gentle glow of the waning moon. The darkness of the kitchen allowed me to see down the hill of shimmering green grass to the stables, still and dark in the night.
It was quiet that night, too. The horses were waiting at the bottom of the hill.
A sharp whistle shattered the stillness and the memory. I took a shuddering breath and removed the teakettle from the stove, pouring the steaming water over the waiting tea leaves. A few more minutes, and I’d be on my way back to my room, ready to dive into a book until exhaustion or morning overtook me - whichever came first.
Exhaustion. There was no way I could sleep.
I didn’t look out the window when I returned to the sink. I kept my eyes on the soapy water and the dirty dishes, on my fingers scrubbing and rinsing mechanically, trying to force my thoughts to follow the simple movements, telling myself there was no reason to be afraid. That night, and the horrors that followed, was long gone. Everything was okay.
Until I pulled a knife from the water. I gasped and dropped it as if it burned, clutching the edge of the sink with white knuckles, squeezing my eyes shut. It was just a butter knife. Just a dull, safe, butter knife.
Just a suffocating chill wrapping around my heart.
And warmth wrapping around the rest of me, along with the soothing smell of roses. I opened one eye cautiously, wondering if my mind was fabricating Chevalier’s presence, but another set of hands rested on the marble countertop on either side of me, larger than mine and just as familiar. He didn’t touch me at all, but I felt his breath on my neck, and I knew he was real.
“What are you doing here, little dove?”
I swallowed hard and reached back into the water. “I told Yves not to bother you.”
“You are not a bother,” he said, resting his chin on my shoulder.
I bit my lip and pulled out another dish, the familiar motions of scrubbing and rinsing helping to ground my thoughts. He could say that all he wanted. If it weren’t for me, he’d be sleeping right now.
“You had a nightmare,” he prompted me, his hands sliding along the counter and under my arms to meet in front of me.
I nodded.
He stepped forward, pressing into my back as his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, enveloping me in his presence. I hadn’t realized I was shaking until I felt his steadiness around me.
“Tell me,” he murmured, his breath hot on my neck.
I shook my head, blinking tears back. The words probably couldn’t make it past the lump in my throat, anyway. Then my fingers brought the knife out of the water again, and I flinched and dropped it, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the images, but that only made them clearer. Flickering torchlight across bloody steel, black stones stained red, a rough hand tangled in my hair and yanking it back, the flat of the blade pressed into my cheek as I faded in and out of consciousness. The sound of something dripping - my blood dripping onto the floor.
“Ivetta,” Chevalier whispered, kissing my neck.
“I keep seeing the dagger,” I choked out. “Feeling it. Hearing what he said.”
Chevalier turned me to face him, pressing my head into his chest. I clung to him desperately as the words poured out with the tears.
“He said he knew I couldn’t tell him anything,” I sobbed. “But Flandre didn’t believe that, so he had to keep working on me, and - he was getting bored with - with just beating me. I wasn’t - I wasn’t - screaming enough anymore. S-so he brought the dagger, a-and - he said - he said when he finished with me, nobody would recognize me, not even you. I’d just be another piece of trash left to rot in a ditch somewhere. H-he was saving my f-face for last, but I - I passed out, and - and then-”
Chevalier held me close, every inch of him taut around me, and I finally felt the security that had eluded me all night. I didn’t need to tell him the rest. He knew the rest. I could just cry all the pain and the terror out, knowing that it was over, that every word had been a lie, that I wasn’t now and never would be trash to him.
“I recognized you,” he finally said, stroking my damp hair. “You looked like a side of meat strung up from the ceiling, but I recognized you.”
I suddenly remembered his tension in the cold storage, the set of his jaw and the coolness of his voice. “O-oh, is that why…?”
He nuzzled into my neck. “Yes.”
“I-I’m sorry, I-”
“No,” he said firmly. My feet went out from under me, and I clutched at him, cradled in his arms as he walked to the door. “You’re not apologizing.”
I closed my eyes and turned my face into his chest, not so much out of embarrassment at the thought of my guards seeing me this way, but because I needed to feel him, I needed to know he was there. It didn’t even matter where he was taking me. I needed him as badly now as I needed him the night he rescued me from that dungeon.
“Your highness-”
“You’re dismissed,” Chevalier said, his voice as cold as ice.
“It was my fault,” I said softly. Chevalier sighed irritably.
“Report to me tomorrow.”
“Yes, your highness.”
Tomorrow. I had lessons with Sariel in the morning, and we had to discuss all the invitations I received for social engagements, along with all the invitations I was sure Sariel received on my behalf, and maybe riding lessons…
It was too much. I couldn’t think about it anymore. I couldn’t think past tonight. Past the steady heartbeat in my ear and the arms that wouldn’t let go of me, even when I couldn’t feel them physically around me.
“I need to take my boots off,” Chevalier said, laying me in bed. His bed, I realized numbly, opening my eyes to see the stars shining through the uncovered windows above his bookcases. I rarely saw that view unless we stayed up too late reading, and I hadn’t slept in his bed since my mother died.
The dressing gown would get hot under the covers.
I scooted to the edge of the bed and kicked my slippers off, and then I stood up and untied the laces at my throat. He took the dressing gown from me and hung it on the coat rack with his cloak and his ceremonial coat. I slid back under the blankets that smelled like him, and he joined me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close.
“I love you, Chevalier,” I mumbled, cuddling up to him. He kissed the top of my head.
“I love you, too, little dove. Go to sleep.”
His fingers threaded through my hair, his heart beat slow and steady in my ear, and the last shreds of the nightmare faded away as I slipped into a sweet, dreamless sleep.
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