Of Blood and Roses

Chapter 8

When I woke up the next day, at first I stared at the ceiling in confusion. Gone were the soft pink curtains of my four poster bed that I grew up seeing everyday, this one instead a deep red. Everything was darker, the shadows here thicker and deeper than back home. I rolled over. There was no sunlight filtering through the curtains, nothing but grey sky peeking through to dimly mute the walls. I squeezed my eyes shut.

I considered falling back asleep. There was no reason to get up. Jourdon was likely already gone, off at first light to make the most of the day. Perhaps I should have risen early to say my farewells, but even as I considered it, my jaw clenched, the headache at my temple throbbing anew.

I reluctantly pushed my blankets off, wincing as my head panged. The floor was cold as I poured myself a glass of water. The Angels' voices were softer this morning, barely there—I was used to them by now, but they hadn't relented since last night. They tended to do that when I was angry. I had tried to act normal with my maids after my argument with Jourdon last night, going through the familiar motions of undressing and readying for bed. Sabine hadn't been there, and I wondered faintly where she had gone after serving dinner.

"Your Highness! You're awake!"

I turn to see Jeanette, wide eyed as she holds a tray of pastries and steaming tea. My stomach turns at the food—but I smile anyway.

"I just woke. Not to worry, I would have called if I needed you."

The maid's lips were still pursed as she set the food out on the small table beside my bed, unconvinced. "I'll go fetch your robe. You must be chilled."

I nod to her. It is quite cold, the coolness from outside leeching in through the stone walls. Not even the soft carpet that decorates the room is enough the dispel it. Once she retrieves it, I wrap the silken robe around myself gratefully and take a seat at the table. I had asked the night before to break my fast in my rooms, saying I was feeling unwell and wished to get some extra sleep. Which wasn't completely untrue, with my head as it was I didn't feel my finest. But the truth was back home I had usually taken my meals alone unless it was a special occasion--or Elliotte barged in. I preferred those moments of solitude. Especially when I started my day, and right now, after the long day before, I needed the time alone with myself to gather my thoughts before another long day of playing Jourdon's happy bride to be. I knew it likely would spur on rumors after the night before, but there were somethings I just could not change about myself, no matter how hard I tried.

I closed my eyes sipping my tea. "You may leave me," I said to Jeanette, who was hovering around the room, fixing my bed. "You may return at half past. I am alright for now."

Jeanette frowned around the room, likely thinking of all the things she could be doing. She nodded reluctantly.

"I'll return then to help dress."

She departed and I let out a sigh of relief. I leaned back in my chair, looking up at the ceiling. The dark painted images stared back, their eyes glinting like the gems that surrounded them. My vision blurred, and I jumped, thinking for a moment the Garnetti kings of old had come to haunt me, but when I touched my cheek, there was wetness there. I frowned at my fingers.

I shouldn't be crying again. Crying was viewed as weak. It was something Mother always said. I had never seen her cry once in all my time growing up. Yet I couldn't contain them like she could. The argument with Jourdon last night, the play—everything. It was all so different. I was so far from home. I couldn't just call on Elliotte to talk to him, like I would do sometimes at home after a particularly difficult session with mother. He had been my only person, and now I didn't even have him. All I had were the Angels, but right now all I wanted of them was to be quiet.