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“You’re home early.”
A wide smile spread across my face at Mother’s greeting when I walked into our house. She was still in bed, of course, but she was awake, and a hint of a smile was on her pale face, too. I went to her side and kissed her on the cheek.
“Let me just deal with this, and then I’ll be right back,” I said brightly, picking up the foul bucket.
“And then you can explain that blush,” she teased.
My cheeks warmed even more at her parting words. It had been a few days since I’d faced the dilemma of what to tell her and what to withhold about Prince Chevalier, and as happy as I was to see her feeling a little better, I was still dead tired. Deciding how to feed her impossible dream while keeping my heart firmly shackled to the ground would be difficult. I certainly couldn’t tell her Prince Chevalier had kissed me, or said my name for the first time, or that I’d spent the last few minutes of my workday at the palace in his arms. Even thinking about it all was dangerous.
So, what was I supposed to say?
This was what happened when I let my guard down. My carefully constructed walls, built to keep me safe from the harsh realities of life, couldn’t stand in the face of all the pressure I’d been dealing with, and now my heart was raw, broken, and trampled on the ground. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and miracles didn’t happen. Giving in to my feelings about Prince Chevalier would only end in disaster for me.
But Mother didn’t see that.
“So, what happened with Prince Chevalier?” she asked as soon as I returned.
“All the princes are getting into the festival spirit,” I replied, setting the bucket in its place and grabbing the broom. Prince Chevalier wanted me to take a nap, but I’d fallen behind on my housework over the past few days, and I wasn’t about to waste this time with Mother. As long as I slept tonight, I’d be fine.
“You’re avoiding the question,” Mother said knowingly.
I sighed. “Well, I told you Marge assigned me to three important foreign dignitaries. One of them has been causing some trouble for me, and Prince Chevalier has had to step in to resolve the matter.”
“Which still doesn’t explain you blushing like a woman who just parted from her lover.”
“Mother!” I exclaimed, spinning to face her.
She giggled softly. “You forget I was in love once myself. I know the symptoms.”
I turned away and pursed my lips. “You’re seeing things.”
She sighed, and a pang of guilt stabbed my chest. I couldn’t deny her this pleasure. If it made her smile, then I would just have to put my heart through the wringer again. I set the broom aside and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her thin, cold hand in mine and studying it intently rather than looking at her face.
“He kissed me,” I finally admitted.
“I knew it,” she said triumphantly. I darted a look at her bright, sparkling eyes, and dropped my gaze to her hand again as my blush deepened.
“Last night. Or, well, this morning, I guess. After the ball. I didn’t have the best night, and he told me he wanted to see me before I left, and then he was out in the gardens, and…it was late, and dark, and quiet, and we were alone, and there were roses all around…”
“That sounds very romantic.”
It was. And it wasn’t. I remembered the warmth of his lips on mine, the pain in my chest when I pushed him away. There were so many reasons that shouldn’t have happened. I didn’t want to tell Mother and put her smile at risk of disappearing, and yet the words were tumbling out of me before I could stop them.
“I just…I don’t know what to think, Mother. He’s a prince, and…the last time a prince fell in love with a commoner, it ruined everything. The nobility wouldn’t let them get married. They chased her out of the palace, and he made several political marriages, but he never loved any of his wives. Then, when he found out she died, he just lost it.”
“The king,” she said softly.
I nodded. “And Prince Jin’s mother. There’s so much pain behind all the princes, Mother. I don’t know everything, but they tell me bits and pieces, I think because of my situation with you. Maybe it would have been better if the king just kept Prince Jin’s mother at the palace as his cherished rose instead of trying to marry her, but I don’t think so. She still would have been the woman he loved, and that still would have left the king’s wives competing for his affections. And I just keep thinking about that, and…I can’t put Prince Chevalier through that.”
A tear hit Mother’s hand, and she squeezed mine. “And you can’t put yourself through that.”
“I love him so much it hurts,” I confessed, wiping my eyes hastily. “Everybody calls him the Brutal Beast, but he’s kind and tender with me, and the way he looks at me, the way he touches me…” I sniffed and wiped my eyes again. “When he holds me, I just want to stay there forever. I feel so safe with him, like nothing bad can ever happen when we’re together. He tells me what he’s thinking, and he listens to me, and he worries about me, and he respects me…”
I choked and hid my face behind my other hand. Mother squeezed my hand again and said, “Ivetta, come here.”
I lay down beside her, snuggling into her side as her thin arms wrapped around me. She stroked my hair while I cried, just like she used to, murmuring soft, comforting words. When my crying died down, she still held me.
“He loves you, Ivetta.”
“I know he does,” I mumbled into her chest. “He almost said it after he kissed me, but I stopped him.”
“Do you really think he’s going to let anything come between you, if that’s what he wants?”
“I don’t know,” I said miserably. “I knew he liked me before the gala, but it was different, less serious. And then all this stuff with Prince Gilbert started, and-”
“Prince Gilbert?” Mother demanded, stiffening. “From Obsidian?”
I bit my lip and pulled away from her. I hadn’t meant to let that slip. Ever since Bloodstained Rose Day, when Obsidian’s invasion struck her with such terror that she spent the day a sobbing mess huddled in the corner, I had been careful never to bring up Obsidian around her. I had only been eight years old, but her reaction seemed strange to me, even at that young age.
“Marge assigned you to Prince Gilbert von Obsidian?” Mother pressed me, her voice tight.
I nodded, focusing on my hands wringing in my lap. “And Prince Silvio Ricci from Benitoite and Prince Keith Howell from Jade,” I answered reluctantly. “I didn’t tell you because I know you don’t like Obsidian.”
“What does he want with you?” she asked sharply.
I forced my eyes from my hands to her flashing green eyes. This was really upsetting her. I’d only wanted to make her feel better, and instead, I’d made her feel worse.
“He just…I’m Prince Chevalier’s maid, and he’s from an enemy nation,” I said quickly, trying to figure out what to say to calm her down. “It’s nothing personal. He’s just trying to see if I know anything he can use. That’s all.”
That was definitely not all, and it most certainly was personal, but I wasn’t telling her that. Not when the mere mention of his name affected her this much.
Her frown told me she didn’t believe me.
“But Prince Chevalier said he’d handle it,” I hastened to add. “That’s why he sent me home early today. So, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. The tension left her, but now exhaustion lined her features.
“Of course. He’ll handle it,” she repeated, her voice a quiet murmur.
I brushed her hair back from her face. This couldn’t be how we ended this conversation. Days of her not being able to talk at all, and this wasn’t how I wanted it to end. I scrambled for something to say.
“Could you…could you tell me about Father?” I asked hesitantly.
She opened her eyes again and gave me a weak smile. “I suppose that’s only fair, since I made you talk about Prince Chevalier.”
My heart leaped in my chest. She’d never agreed to talk about Father before.
“He was a good man,” she said, a faint smile gracing her lips as her eyes took on a faraway look. “Not smart like Prince Chevalier, though. He was shortsighted, stubborn, and an eternal optimist no matter how dire the circumstances, but he was a good man. He would have taken care of me even if we hadn’t fallen in love.”
She refocused on me. “We had an arranged marriage,” she explained. “In a way, I envy you, Ivetta. I met your father for the first time at the altar. You can’t imagine how awkward it is to kiss a man you’ve never met in front of a church full of people.”
“Oh.” There wasn’t much more that I could say.
“I was your age, and he was older than me. Older than Prince Chevalier. I knew girls my age who had to marry men old enough to be their grandfathers, though, so I considered myself fortunate. And he was kind and tender,” she said, nodding toward me, “like Prince Chevalier is to you. It took some time, but we grew to love each other.”
She sighed and closed her eyes again. “Although sometimes I wish we hadn’t. But then I think about him, and I realize I wouldn’t trade that time with him for anything. Even though losing him still hurts.”
She fell silent, and I squeezed her hand. “So, you think I should give in and see where this goes with Prince Chevalier?”
“Oh, no,” she said, her eyes opening again. “You’re not ‘giving in.’ No daughter of mine is ending up as a cherished rose. If he wants you, he needs to keep working for you, and you’re not settling for anything less than marriage.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Mother, he’s a prince.”
“I don’t care if he’s the king. If he won’t marry you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
I laughed and stood up. “And you’d tell him that yourself, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
She was getting more and more fatigued. I saw it in her increasingly dull eyes, in the lines of her pale face, in the strain of her smile. But she was smiling, and our honest conversation filled my own tired heart with joy. I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
“Then I’ll tell him for you if he tries anything. Why don’t you get some rest while I tidy up a bit? Maybe we can talk more over dinner.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. “Don’t forget about the journal, Ivetta,” she said softly.
The joy shattered into a million pieces. She was reminding me of my promise to show Father’s journal to Prince Chevalier after she died, but I didn’t even want to think about her dying. I wanted to believe that these few minutes were a turning point, that she was getting better, that I wouldn’t lose her.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and forced a smile back to my face, even though her eyes were closed, and she couldn’t see it.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I won’t forget."
