Chevalier and I walked in silence through the dark, empty halls until we reached his room. My guards followed, the clanking of their armor drowned out by frequent rolls of thunder and surges of torrential rain pounding the windows. I hoped Clavis wasn’t still out in that mess. If he left with Chevalier when they got Nokto’s message, he should have been in the palace, probably at his bedroom door, deactivating traps. But when we rounded the last corner to the hall of the royal family’s bedrooms, he wasn’t there. I bit my lip nervously. Maybe he was still at the stables, tending to the horses? He couldn’t have had enough time to get into his room and reset all the traps. Even if he somehow deactivated everything in record time, there wasn’t any light peeking through the crack under his door. Was he exhausted enough to drop his paranoia and just go to sleep? Or did Chevalier leave him behind?
I was tired of rescuing people from the rain. But thinking about Clavis took my mind off of the guards following us and the unknowns swirling around me.
“Chevalier,” I started when he led me into his room. “Did-”
He shut the door and enfolded me in a crushing embrace. The words died in my throat, and I hugged him back, relieved to feel the security of his arms around me, even if he was getting me wet. Icy droplets of rainwater trickled down my neck from his pale blonde hair, raising goosebumps in their path. Only his breath was warm. The rest of him was cold. His face nuzzling into my neck, his lips pressing against my skin, his body flush with mine. So cold.
“I’m really okay, Chevalier,” I reassured him, reaching up to brush back the hair plastered to his face. “You’re cold. Why don’t we talk after you get warmed up? I can draw you a hot bath while you get undressed.”
He silenced me with a kiss on the lips this time, short and chaste but full of passion. The cool, damp black leather of his glove cupped my cheek, and his crystal blue eyes met mine in an intense gaze.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I will, after you get out of these wet clothes. Please. I don’t want you getting sick.”
He sighed, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “Ivetta. I need to address this situation as soon as possible.”
My heart sank. I knew it. He had to be chilled to the bone from the rain, but he was also burning with rage because someone threatened my life. He probably had a plan of action already, and maybe it was the best, most logical thing for him to leave me and execute it immediately. I didn’t care. If he left, if I was alone, I’d have nothing to keep me from thinking about what little I knew, conjuring frightening thoughts to fill in the many blanks I didn’t, spiraling into darkness and terror and worry for him and everybody else who wasn’t sleeping tonight because of this.
I didn’t want to be alone.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Nokto said he already has everybody working on it, and it’s under control. He only sent you a message because he knew you’d want to be here, not because he needed you to handle this. And you just rode all night through that storm-”
“I will be fine, Ivetta,” he interrupted me. “Your safety is my priority, and until I know-”
“I don’t need you to keep me safe,” I burst out in frustration. “I just need - you.”
His eyes widened in surprise. My heart was pounding out of my chest.
“Nokto told me you were coming because he saw how scared I was. He was trying to help me, to calm me down - but you already knew that, or you would have gotten angry when you found us together. If - if you’re just going to leave me alone, then I may as well go back to his room, because - because I can’t be alone right now.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. He just stared at me. This was hard for me to admit, but I had to make him understand. And if words weren’t enough to make him stay, I was desperate enough to try something I knew he couldn’t resist.
“You’re always saying you want me to ask for help,” I continued, my voice softening as I implored him to listen. “I’m asking you now, Chevalier. Please. Please don’t leave me.”
I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss him before he could reply, before he could say no. His sharp intake of air told me I’d surprised him again, and I tilted my head to change the angle, pressing in harder, needing a response from him. When his lips molded with mine, when his hand slid around to the back of my head and his lips parted, I slid my hands down his chest to the clasp of his cloak, undoing it and deepening the kiss. His cloak hit the floor with a wet thud, his fingers dug into my waist, and I continued down his chest to each consecutive fastening of his jacket, my fingers slipping on the cold, wet metal. He tangled his hand in my hair and nibbled on my lower lip as he pulled back just enough to speak.
“This had better not be what you did with Nokto,” he murmured, his breath ghosting across my lips.
“It’s not,” I breathed.
He kissed me this time, and I couldn’t blame the fumbling of my fingers on the wet, slippery buttons anymore. This was nothing like helping a feverish, weak Nokto out of his wet clothes, although Chevalier’s increasingly heated kisses bordered on feverish. The swirl of emotions in my mind didn’t know what was going on. Fear, anxiety, relief, frustration, desperation, and probably more blended with the familiar fog that always came with his passionate affection, and it wasn’t until he pulled away and brushed his fingers across my cheeks that I realized I was crying.
“Ivetta,” he murmured. “Don’t make yourself do this.”
I swallowed hard and pulled free from him, leaving his shirt half open. “Then you can do the rest.”
The frequent flashes of lightning that lit up his bedroom appeared in his bathroom, too, in the smaller windows set high in the wall for privacy, and I used them to find and light a few candles. Everything was the same. I didn’t come in here much anymore, but everything was the same as it was when I was his maid. The rose-scented soaps lined up within reach of the tub, the towel rack across from the sink, the gold-trimmed mirror that had taken the place of the one he shattered months ago. I’d never drawn a bath for him before, not even as his maid. My trembling hands fumbled with the nozzles as much as they’d fumbled with his shirt buttons. I wiped the tears from my face and straightened up.
“Ivetta,” he said, his hand taking mine from behind and intertwining with my fingers. I braced myself before I turned around, but he’d only stripped down to his shirt and pants, and he’d buttoned his shirt up again. The relief I felt at that moment was palpable. He pulled me close, brushing my hair back with his other hand to bare my forehead for a tender kiss.
“You don’t have to compromise yourself to convince me,” he said, his hand continuing its path through my hair, down the back of my head, trailing lightly down my back as he brought me closer. I leaned into his embrace, resting my cheek on his chest.
“I was just so scared that you would leave…”
He sighed and kissed the top of my head, his hand rubbing circles on the small of my back. “I’ll stay. The rest can manage until morning.”
He kissed me again and led me back to the bedroom, one arm around my waist and the other still holding my hand. A few candles lit the room between lightning strikes with dancing, flickering flames, casting wavering shadows across the tea tray and the two steaming cups of tea waiting on his writing desk. I sank gratefully down to the sofa cushions while he brought our teacups over. A little cream and sugar in mine; his was black. That hadn’t changed since I was his maid, either. I cupped both hands around the cup, warming my fingers; he sat next to me; and I told him what happened, with the storm providing commentary in the pauses he didn’t fill.
I didn’t tell him about Nokto’s fever-induced ramblings. Nor did I give him the specifics about what happened after I woke Nokto from the nightmare. He could probably guess at some of it, anyway, and he probably knew more about the unknown threat to me than I did after I finished, even without talking to Nokto or Julius. Better for him to know than for me. I couldn’t deal with it all right now.
He leaned over to kiss my cheek when I fell silent. “You’re shivering.”
“Well, you got me pretty wet,” I said, looking down at my damp dressing gown.
He stood up and went to the bureau, pulling out a shirt and bringing it back to me. “I won’t be long.”
I blushed, but I took the shirt from him. The alternatives were getting permission to go back to my room for a nightgown, which I knew he wouldn’t allow, or sending Mark to wake Theresa up to bring me a nightgown, which I didn’t want. She didn’t like storms, and she didn’t need to worry about me.
He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I set my empty teacup on the writing desk next to his and shrugged out of my dressing gown. The storm wasn’t so angry anymore. Rolls of thunder and bolts of lightning broke the pitter patter of rain less frequently now. I hesitated, but the open drapes weren’t so threatening when there was only blackness and rain on the other side of the glass, so I pulled my nightgown off and put his shirt on, buttoning it up to the top without bothering to close the drapes first. The shirttails brushed against my skin mid-thigh, and the top button landed lower on my chest than I would have liked. I told myself it wouldn’t matter once I was under the covers. Chevalier and I didn’t have to cuddle tonight. There was no reason we couldn’t keep to our opposite sides of the bed.
The low, distant rumble of thunder almost sounded like the sky was chuckling at me. It knew better. So did I.
I left the drapes open and crawled under the covers, breathing in the scent of roses and savoring the warmth surrounding me. The storm tapered off as I watched the rain fall, its soothing, irregular rhythm reminding me it was well past midnight. My eyelids were heavy. It didn’t take long for me to give in and let them close, listening to the rain, enjoying the softness of the pillows and blankets that smelled like Chevalier.
“Goodnight, little dove.”
“Mm…Chevalier…”
His whispered words and gentle kiss on my forehead pulled me from sleep into drowsy wakefulness. I reached for him in the dark, and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close as I snuggled into his chest. The flickering candles had gone out. There was no thunder or lightning anymore. Just the light tapping of rain at the windows, the soft rustling of sheets and blankets, the warmth of Chevalier’s kiss on my forehead again.
“I love you, Ivetta.”
“I love you, too,” I mumbled.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
