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My headache grew as the morning went on, but I didn’t have to hide it from Sariel for long. Shockingly, lessons ended at noon. And judging by my new schedule for the rest of the week, this would be a frequent occurrence. The targeted lessons to give me an edge in social engagements and earn popularity among the nobility were coming to an end. Now, he was broadening his scope to fill in the gaps in my knowledge, covering all the general information I would have learned had I been raised as royalty. And with eight months to learn it, I didn’t have to cram from sunup to sundown.
Which meant I had free time.
“Three mirrors?” I complained after lunch. “What do I need with three more mirrors? I already have a full-length mirror in here and another mirror in the bathroom.”
“You’re not vain enough,” Theresa teased, but she picked up the first of the three mirrors and moved it over to the reject pile of gifts in my bedroom. “Noblewomen are supposed to be vain.”
“And are they supposed to use all these oils and lotions every time they bathe, too?” I asked, surveying the bottles and jars of products that were next on the list.
“Yep,” she said, grabbing the second mirror.
I snorted. “You know I used to bathe in a river with lye soap?”
She shot me a glare. “Don’t remind me. That’s offensive even if you’re not a noblewoman. Nobody should have hair that looks that good from bathing in a river with lye soap.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “It’s not like I can help it.”
“I know,” she grumbled, leaning the third mirror against the first two and turning toward the pile of beauty products.
“But really, what am I supposed to do with all this? I’d risk offending people by giving it all away, but I don’t even have room for it all here, and wherever I put it, it’s just going to collect dust.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” Theresa said, handing me a small vial. “The other maids have already claimed most of it. You’re keeping this.”
“Why? What is it?”
She smirked. “Something Chevalier will like.”
I felt my cheeks warming, but I maintained eye contact and what I hoped was a stern expression. “If this is another aphrodisiac—”
“It’s not,” she interrupted me, rolling her eyes. “Well, maybe it is for him. I don’t know. It’s lilac perfume. He likes that scent on you, right?”
My cheeks flushed hotter. “Yes,” I said shortly, taking the vial and unscrewing the cap. The light, sweet floral scent made my head throb. “How about this?” I said, recapping it again quickly. “Distribute everything among the guest rooms, and whatever the maids want, they can have.”
Theresa’s green eyes widened as she turned back to the reject pile. “Everything?” she repeated.
“Surely there’s a guest room that could use an extra mirror and an extra piece of decor,” I said, setting the perfume on my vanity and rubbing my forehead. “And we normally provide amenities in the bathrooms, anyway, so what’s another jar of bath oil going to hurt?”
Her eyes narrowed again as she frowned at me. “Speaking of hurt, how’s your head?”
There was no hiding it from her. Of course, there was a good chance Sariel had noticed, too, but just hadn’t let on he knew.
“Not great,” I admitted.
“Still getting worse?”
I nodded.
“Maybe you should lie down for a while,” she suggested. “You cried a lot yesterday, and then you didn’t get a lot of sleep. The rest might do you good.”
“Maybe.”
I didn’t want to lie down, though. If I did, getting all these gifts out of my room would have to wait until later, and I could probably make better use of my time doing something else. Although what that might be, I wasn’t sure, because it was getting to the point I couldn’t think clearly from the pain.
There was nothing for it. I just needed to give in.
“I think I’ll do that,” I relented.
“Good. I’d hate to have to tell Chevalier about this,” Theresa said, following me behind the dressing screen. “If you don’t get over this headache soon, he’ll think someone poisoned you.”
I groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“I’m not joking,” she said, working through the buttons at the back of my dress. “Well, not completely. He knows you get headaches after crying, right?”
“Of course, he knows. You and he are the people who get to see me cry all the time.”
“You say that as if you're always crying,” she chided me.
“Sometimes, it feels like I am,” I muttered.
She sighed and left me to step out of the layers of dress, corset, and undergarments. “You aren’t, and you’re only thinking that way because you’re tired.” My nightgown appeared over the dressing screen, and the light in the room dimmed as I pulled it on and she closed the curtains. “Get some rest, and if you want to just sleep until tomorrow morning, I’ll explain to Chevalier that you aren’t dying.”
That got a dry laugh out of me. She knew as well as I did that if he was worried about me, nothing except seeing me would satisfy him.
“Wake me up before dinner,” I told her.
This time, she laughed. We both knew she wouldn’t. The door latched closed as I climbed under the covers, and I wondered how long it would take for Chevalier to come to check on me. Hopefully, he finished whatever work he needed to do for the day first.
As flattering as it was to know he cared so much, it was a little concerning, too. At least I'd never been one to get sick often.
I closed my eyes and pushed that thought away, choosing to mull over the things Theresa and I could do the next time we visited Belle. With my new, less restrictive schedule, we could do that more often. And see the Stotts. Maybe I could invite them to the palace again, or I could go to the village. Play on the riverbank with Rachel, help Mrs. Stotts make dinner, go swimming with the boys…
No, not that. I didn’t want them, or anybody else, seeing my scars. The thought of Rachel asking questions, and me trying to answer them, made me queasy. Or maybe that was the headache. Or the image of a bloody dagger flashing through my mind.
Torchlight flickering across cold steel, reflecting off of silver and crimson, dark crimson eyes and straight red lines, red pooling on the coffee table, pooling below my feet, dripping, the sound of dripping, blood dripping from my nose and toes, draining away with every jagged cut and sickening blow…
“Ivetta. Ivetta, wake up.”
I gasped and shoved away the hand shaking me, staring wide-eyed at the figure looming over me in the dark. No, not looming over me, I realized; sitting next to me. And it wasn’t completely dark. There was a candle somewhere, not a torch, a candle, casting dancing shadows across the room and silhouetting the familiar form in a soft, warm glow.
“Chevalier?” I whispered.
He reached out to brush the hair back from my face and cupped my cheek in his hand. “You’re safe, Ivetta.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. His thumb brushed back and forth across my skin, as soothing as his reassuring voice, and the nightmare faded away. No pain, no blood, no need to fear. I took another deep breath and sat up, opening my eyes to nod at him.
“I’m okay.”
He sighed and pulled me into a warm embrace, and I realized I was trembling. My entire body was trembling. I closed my eyes again and buried my face in his chest, gulping his cologne in like air, concentrating on his heartbeat, his steady breathing, matching mine to his. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair in silence.
Gradually, the panic left.
I sighed the last of the tension from my shoulders and whispered, “Thank you, Chevalier.” Another deep breath, and I added, “The nightmare always ends when you’re here.”
He kissed the top of my head again and squeezed me tighter. I smiled up at him and sat up straighter so I could kiss him on the lips, just briefly, and then I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled into it.
“It felt like waking up then, too,” I mumbled into his skin. “When you found me. Like waking up from the most horrible nightmare. I saw you in that doorway, and I knew it was over.”
His entire body stiffened. I felt his heart suddenly pounding against mine, and I wished I hadn’t said that. He didn’t like to talk about this.
“Sorry,” I said, pulling back enough to look up at his face, half hidden in shadows. “I didn’t mean—”
His hand came up to the back of my head, pressing me into his neck again, and he kissed my temple. “It’s fine.”
He threaded his fingers through my hair, down my back, and I waited, wondering if he just wanted to hold me longer, or if he was actually going to talk about it. His heart wasn’t slowing down. One, two, three times his hand traveled from the back of my head to my waist, stroking my hair, and the third time, it wrapped around my waist in a secure embrace.
“Losing you was my nightmare,” he said quietly. “Licht woke me with the news you were gone and your guards were dead, but it didn’t feel real until I saw your house, and then…it felt as though my world fell apart.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then continued in a bitter voice, “I failed you. I didn’t know where you were, but I knew you were terrified and probably injured, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Not until I found you. And when I did—when I knew what was happening to you—”
His voice broke, and my heart twisted in my chest. I’d heard his voice break only once before, the night he rode through a thunderstorm because someone tried to poison me. Why hadn’t I realized? His overprotectiveness, his paranoid precautions, his concern over something as simple as a headache—he was afraid. Afraid of losing me.
“It’s okay to cry, Chevalier,” I said, my voice thick.
“I thought I’d prepared myself for the worst, but finding you in that state—” He stopped, making a choking sound, and then he buried his face in my neck. “That was the worst point of my nightmare. Knowing you should have already died, that you could still die”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, but it was a losing battle. Hot tears that weren’t mine trickled down my neck.
“I’m okay now, Chevalier,” I whispered, sliding my hands up into his hair and hugging his head against me. “I’m okay.”
His shoulders didn’t shake; he didn’t make a sound; he just clung to me and cried. My own tears fell onto his blonde hair, but I didn’t speak. I lay back, pulling him with me so I could better hold him, and when his sword got in the way, I undid his belt and pushed it off the edge of the bed. He wasn’t the Brutal Beast anymore, soaked in blood and cutting men down as he fought his way to rescue me. He was Chevalier, showing me a vulnerability he’d probably never shown anyone before, following me when I shifted toward the center of the mattress so he wasn’t right on the edge, his tears soaking the front of my nightgown while mine dampened his hair.
It was a long time before either of us spoke.
“When you woke up…that was when the nightmare ended for me,” he said in a husky voice, lifting his face from my chest and looking at me with red-rimmed eyes. He reached out to brush my hair back behind my ear, trailing a finger down my cheek. “That was when I felt relief.”
I smiled through the tears and brushed his bangs back from his face. “I remember thinking I was dreaming when I woke up. And then I thought maybe it was a trick, that I had dreamed of you rescuing me, and I just wanted you to be there. And then you were.” I dropped his gaze and admitted shyly, “And it was better than a dream.”
He tipped my chin up and shifted closer, and I closed my eyes just before his kiss. The shared saltiness on our lips added a pleasant tang he seemed to savor as much as I did. He kissed me again, shifting closer still and pulling me against him, his tongue running across my lips in a familiar question. I cupped his face in my hands and parted my lips in a yes. Our kisses deepened, and when I ran my fingers down his neck to his chest and encountered the clasp of his cloak, I undid it and pushed the heavy fabric away.
“Ivetta,” Chevalier murmured, his hot breath ghosting across my wet lips.
I sighed and ran my fingers through his fringe again, enjoying the feel of the fine strands. “I know,” I said, a twinge of frustration in my chest. “We need to stop doing this.”
“Unless…”
I shook my head despondently. “Maybe it’s best we just assume I won’t be ready until the wedding.”
He rolled out of bed and went to the curtains, pulling them open to let the evening summer sun into the room. I scooted toward the edge of the bed, but he came back and scooped me up before my feet touched the floor. I squealed in surprise and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Chevalier!”
He deposited me on the sofa and cut off any further protest with a hungry kiss. Not that I was protesting much. My fingers were already tangling in the short hairs above the nape of his neck as his weight settled on top of me, and the ease with which he drew a soft moan from my throat was downright embarrassing.
“How is this better?” I panted when he stopped for a breath.
He smirked. “Your mother is watching us.”
My eyes widened, and I shoved him off of me, heat flooding my face to the tips of my ears. The portrait sat in full view of us, still propped against the wall where Theresa and I had decided to hang it later. Chevalier chuckled and kissed my cheek. I shot him a glare.
“Starting tomorrow, we’re going back to the no bedrooms rule,” I said firmly.
“Tomorrow?” he asked, not a trace of vulnerability left in his mischievous crystal blue eyes.
I shrugged and stood, letting my smile show after I turned my back to him. “Well, Mother would not approve of me sending a guest away hungry. I’ll have Theresa bring dinner for us."18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC3xhutpFgL
