A Beast's Tale

Chapter 15

 The gardens were a pleasant, peaceful change after the hustle and bustle of the festival. I strolled down the cobblestone paths, breathing in the sweet fragrance of roses as I followed the shortest, most direct route to the pond. Upon arrival at the palace, I'd taken charge of the new books while Ivetta disappeared into the servants' quarters to change, and I now had two volumes tucked under my arm: a collection of Garnetian poetry for me and the sappy romance novel I'd bought for her. She had confirmed she knew where to find me and promised to be out with my tea soon.

The romance novel wasn't one of my favorites. The characters were unrelatable; the plot was far-fetched; the emotional depictions were so lacking in realism as to cross into the realm of fantasy; and the resolution was impossible. She would recognize  those flaws and still find it enjoyable. That was no slight to her taste. I suspected she read to escape from her reality as much as she did for pleasure.

I, on the other hand, read to learn. From early childhood, I remembered everything I saw, and that included the written word. I had thousands of books stored in my mind now, with a surplus of facts and figures I could draw on at a moment's notice and did so on a regular basis in my everyday affairs. At present, however, I had a particular interest in fiction and poetry. Human emotions often followed no logic and defied my comprehension, but to be an effective ruler, one had to understand the motivations of the people. Reading gave me the insight I needed to do just that—without succumbing to emotional fallacies myself.

Until recently.

I set her book at one end of a bench and sat at the other, examining my new book. It would pose an interesting challenge for me. I was familiar with other languages within the same linguistic family, but I had never come across this particular tongue before. With no other texts to reference, and given the poetic tendency to use elaborate verbiage heavy with metaphors, this book had the potential to keep me occupied for several days.

"Your tea, Prince Chevalier."

I looked up at Ivetta and took the proffered teacup and saucer. She wore a crisp new uniform with a starched white apron, and she'd settled her face into the smooth expression of an obedient maid.

"Your book is over there." I nodded my head toward the other end of the bench.

Her eyes widened the slightest fraction as she looked toward the book and back at me. "Thank you, Prince Chevalier. I'd say I'll look forward to reading it later, but I'm guessing you want me to read it now."

I smirked. Only she would resist an invitation to read in the middle of her workday. "Sit."

She sighed and obeyed, picking the book up and turning it over as she studied it. "Midnight Cinderella. I think I've heard of this one. Thank you for buying it for me, Prince Chevalier, but I'm here to work, and—"

"It's a holiday, and I'm your employer. Read."

She bit her lip. "I prefer to earn my pay, Your Highness."

"You earn your pay by following my orders."

"But reading, Prince Chevalier?" She looked up at me, clear exasperation on her face. "I wouldn't feel right about accepting money for this, especially after you paid the doctor's bill for me and bought me—"

I cut her off with a sigh. This woman was determined to test me at every turn. "I should not have to explain myself when I give an order, but since you insist on being obstinate, let me make a few things clear: I gave you no loan. You owe me nothing. In the past week, you have completed twice as much work as is usual for a maid in your capacity, and you have therefore earned your salary. Read."

She pressed her lips together, looking at me with suspicion. "Why are you doing all these things for me, Prince Chevalier?"

"Are you defying my direct order?"