x
“That sounds awful.”
“He’s really strict, but Ivetta will be fine. She’s better at focusing than I am, and she’s a lot smarter, too.”
“She’s not better at focusing right now. Hello, Ivetta!”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking myself out of my reverie. Belle and Theresa were both sitting on my bed, eating honey cake and chatting about whatever came to mind. My mind was wandering.
“Not daydreaming about Chevalier already, are you?” Belle teased. “He only left an hour ago.”
“King Chevalier,” I corrected her, not bothering to deny her accusation, because that was exactly what I’d been doing. “I can’t get used to that.”
“You don’t have to,” Theresa said. “You’re a royal now. No more titles.”
“Really?”
They erupted in peals of laughter. Both of them were slightly tipsy from indulging with the princes, though they only drank enough to ensure lots of giggling and a permanent pink flush to Belle’s cheeks.
“Yes, really,” Belle said. “You probably could have stopped using titles a long time ago, as close as you are with all of them.”
“Well, Leon made me stop using his title right away, but it just felt wrong. It still feels wrong,” I admitted.
“So, do I have to call you Princess Ivetta?” Theresa asked, her green eyes glittering with mischief.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned her. “Or I’ll tell Belle all about how you were ogling Prince Jin earlier.”
“Uh, uh, uh. Just Jin,” Belle said, waving a finger in my face. “And it can’t have been worse than how she ogled him when he was working on that trunk.”
“My storage trunk?” I asked, surprised.
Belle nodded. “He likes to work with his hands.”
“Ugh, I wish he’d work on me,” Theresa groaned.
“Theresa!” I exclaimed. It was hard to tell if she was even less discrete than usual, because she always toed the line, but she was definitely more open about how she felt about Jin than when she was sober.
Belle smirked. “I know you would, hence this story. But what I’m talking about is Jin doing things like carpentry. So, Ivetta, when Chevalier brought your stuff here, Jin jumped at the opportunity to fix that trunk up.”
“He did that?” I gasped, looking over at the trunk and its rich, polished wood.
“And in case you didn’t know, because I didn’t, the first part of refinishing a piece of wood is sanding it down. It’s hot, sweaty work. Right, Theresa?” Belle asked suggestively.
“You’re not telling this right,” Theresa said, shifting in her seat to lean forward conspiratorially. “He was just starting on it before I got shipped across the country to you - which only proves how much I love you, Ivetta, because when I saw him outside sanding that thing down - hoo.”
She fanned herself with her hand, her green eyes glazing over. Belle and I exchanged glances and giggled.
“He’d taken his shirt off, and ugh, he’s gorgeous. The way the sweat glistened on those rippling muscles-”
“You’re drooling,” I said.
Her eyes snapped back to me in a sharp glare.
“If you had seen him then, you’d forget all about Chevalier. Not that you’ve ever seen him shirtless. He’s always buttoned up to the top, isn’t he?”
“Not always,” I replied. As soon as I saw Theresa’s eyes widen, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
“What does that mean?” Theresa demanded. “Ivetta, have you been holding out on me?”
“What about you, Belle?” I asked, hoping to distract Theresa. “Have you seen Rio shirtless?”
Her already pink cheeks reddened. “H-hey! We’re talking about you and Chevalier!” she stammered.
Theresa’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “I’ll get back to you,” she promised Belle. “But first, Ivetta, have you or have you not seen Chevalier shirtless?”
“I-I think we should talk about something else,” I said, feeling my cheeks warming as the memory of him in a towel flashed through my mind.
“Look at that blush! Oh, this is good, isn’t it? Come on, Ivetta, spill!” Theresa exclaimed.
“I really don’t-”
“What if we guess and you say yes or no?” Belle volunteered.
“What if I call the doctor and tell him to kick you out?” I retorted.
“Okay, so you used to wake him up every morning, right?” Theresa continued, ignoring my threat. “Does he sleep shirtless?”
“No,” I sighed, resigning myself to this embarrassing game.
“Did you see him changing?” Belle asked.
“No!” I cried, wishing I could clap my hands over my reddening cheeks, but my wrists were already sore from me doing too much with my fingers today.
“We’re getting closer,” Theresa said with a knowing smirk. “Hm, what about…he has his own bathroom, right? Did he leave the door open when he was bathing?”
“He always left the door open,” I muttered. “And I never looked!” I added when I saw the gleam in Theresa’s eyes.
“You’re such a goody-two-shoes,” she complained.
“Did you see him in a towel?” Belle guessed.
I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. They erupted in squeals.
“You didn’t!” Theresa exclaimed.
“But I barely looked!” I defended myself. “And it was only for a second!”
“When did this happen?” Theresa demanded.
“A couple of weeks after I started here,” I admitted.
“You mean to tell me you were holding on to that when I practically had to pry that juicy story about Nokto out of you?”
“What juicy story about Nokto?” Belle interjected.
“He said he wanted to take her back to his room and mess her up,” Theresa said dismissively. “But I want to know about Chevalier in a towel.”
“Nokto said that?” Belle squealed.
“Can we change the subject, please?” I begged.
“So, is that your type, then?” Theresa asked. “The lean type? Like Chevalier and Nokto?”
“I don’t really have a type…”
“Sure you do. Everybody does,” Belle said. “Theresa’s is clearly the muscular type. The bigger, the better, right?”
“Absolutely,” Theresa said, nodding her agreement. “I’ll date skinny guys, but I prefer a more muscular build.”
“Well, all the princes are muscular,” I said in their defense. “Some of them are just more…understated, I guess.”
“And you would know, since you have them all carrying you around lately. Lucky.”
I rolled my eyes at Theresa. “Yes, it’s so lucky to be so badly injured you can’t walk.”
“I’m just saying it could be worse,” she retorted.
Belle giggled, and we both looked at her. She shrugged. “Sorry. I was just thinking about Nokto asking who hadn’t carried you yet. Is there anybody other than Yves on that list?”
I sighed again. At least this question wasn’t so embarrassing. “Jin and Leon. I can’t wait until the doctor says I can start walking again.”
“When will that be?” Belle asked.
“I don’t know. It’s been almost…four weeks, I think? There’s a calendar in the trunk, if someone can grab it for me.”
“I’ll get it,” Belle said, bouncing off the bed and heading for the trunk. “Did Jin do these designs, too?” she asked, running her fingers along the floral engravings decorating the top and sides of the trunk. “I didn’t really see it before he finished working on it.”
“No, those were there already. Mother always said it was a shame someone would throw that away.”
“Someone threw it away?” Theresa asked incredulously. “I thought it was a family heirloom or something.”
I shook my head. “No, someone Mother was working for wanted to throw it away, and she offered to take it. We didn’t have any family heirlooms, except the journal, I guess. She sold everything of value.”
“Even her wedding ring?” Theresa persisted.
I nodded. “I don’t even know what it looked like.”
“Here it is!” Belle cried, holding the calendar triumphantly above her head. “So…I’m guessing this red X is the day Chevalier rescued you?”
“Bring it over here so we can see it,” Theresa told her.
She walked over, still studying the calendar. “Tomorrow is four weeks, exactly. There’s another red X on six weeks.”
“That’s when the bandages come off my wrists,” I said. “Hopefully. I’m not supposed to do anything with them until then, but it’s really hard. Did you know every time you move your fingers, you use your wrist?”
Theresa and Belle each held their hands up in front of their faces, wiggling their fingers with a dexterity I envied.
“Wow, you really do,” Belle said. “I never knew that.”
“So, we’re having another party on the six-week mark, right?” Theresa asked hopefully.
“In the gardens,” I said, smiling at her optimism. “Because as soon as I’m back on my feet, I’m spending as much time as possible outside.”
“Not with Sariel’s lessons,” Belle reminded me. “He had me studying day and night, and I only had to learn enough to make an educated decision about who should be king. You have to learn how to be a princess.”
“But she can do all the bookwork now, and then, when she’s up and about, she can learn how to walk and stuff outside,” Theresa argued.
“Somehow, I don’t think two weeks will be enough time for me to learn everything about being a princess,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, well, it’s not like you only have a month to learn it all, either,” she replied. “And you still need time to go out with Chevalier.”
“Now that is something I’m looking forward to,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “An actual date. I feel like all he sees of me anymore is an emotional, physical wreck.”
“Well, you are,” Theresa said. “But you’re not that way normally, and he knows that.”
“It’s really sweet how he’s sticking with you through all this,” Belle said dreamily. “I wish I had someone like that.”
Theresa and I exchanged glances and said in unison, “Rio!”
“What?” Belle asked, her brown eyes widening in surprise.
“How blind are you?” Theresa asked. “Rio’s been with you for three years. Come on!”
“But, he’s-”
“Your best friend. I know,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Except he’s madly in love with you.”
“I - really?”
“Give the poor guy a chance!” Theresa said. “Today’s your last day as Belle, right? So, tomorrow, go on a date with him. See what happens. And, if you really don’t like him that way, tell him so he can get on with his life.”
“Today’s my last day here!” Belle moaned.
“Did you listen to the rest of what I said?” Theresa asked, exasperated.
“But I can’t come back! Ever! You have to promise to come visit me, Ivetta!” Belle cried frantically.
“Calm down. You’ll be back,” Theresa replied. “Chevalier will find some loophole or add a clause to the Belle Covenant or something so you can come back, because you’re friends with Ivetta, and you make her happy.”
“Is that true?” Belle asked me excitedly.
A knock at the door saved me from answering that. I knew it probably was true, but I didn’t want to make Belle any promises. Theresa jumped off the bed to answer the door, and Rio was standing there, cheeks flushed as he rolled a serving cart into the room.
“Oh, Rio, you’ve been drinking too much,” Belle chided him.
“Maybe,” he said brightly. “Yves can really hold his liquor. I brought more cake.”
“Is he still baking?” I asked, studying the assortment of individually plated slices on the cart. “And drinking?”
“He just stopped. Oh, Belle, we’re invited back for the party when Ivetta’s back on her feet.”
“Told you,” Theresa said triumphantly.
“But the Belle Covenant-”
“Chevalier said that only applies while you’re in the role of Belle,” Rio interrupted her. “Now that you’ve chosen the king, the role has ended, and you are no longer Belle. Belle, the king-chooser, not Belle, you,” he said, furrowing his blonde brows in concentration. “Because you’re still Belle, but you’re not the Belle.”
“We know what you mean,” Belle said quickly. “I think you should get some water.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, shrugging. “When are we going home? I can’t wait to get you home.”
“Just get some water, and she’ll find you later,” Theresa said, giving him a shove toward the door and smirking at us. He stumbled, caught himself on the doorframe, and glanced back with a wink of his sea-blue eyes.
“Okay. Bye! I love you, Belle!”
He staggered away, weaving unevenly across the hallway. Belle watched with worried brown eyes until Theresa shut the door.
“Still just best friends, huh?” she asked Belle with a knowing grin.
I wasn’t alone until bedtime, when the doctor tucked me in and pulled the curtains closed. The day had been turbulent, emotionally speaking. From the highs of the princes’ boisterous welcome and the afternoon spent gabbing with the girls, to the lows of the bridge and the pain of learning the truth Mother hid from me, I was exhausted. And I still had more questions, more processing that I needed to do. But, lying there in the darkness with that bright floral blanket tucked up to my chin and that old storage trunk up against the wall next to the sofa, I thought of Mother, and I smiled. The blanket didn’t smell like her anymore. The trunk wasn’t the scuffed, faded relic she rescued from the trash heap anymore. I saw her smile, though, and I heard her laugh echoing through the room.
He sounds gorgeous.
Mother!
Well, I’m just going off of what you said. I’ve never heard you go on about a man’s appearance like that before.
I only wanted to give you an accurate description.
Ivetta. An accurate description? An artist could paint a detailed portrait of him from that.
Well - I-
Just admit it. You think Prince Chevalier is handsome, and you like looking at him.
I will not admit it, because it isn’t true.
I laughed softly and closed my eyes.
“You win, Mother."
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