A Beast's Tale

Chapter 67

 "Good morning, Prince Chevalier."

Ivetta's listless voice told me everything I needed to know about her condition today. I sighed and mumbled into the pillow, "Go home."

"What?"

"You're exhausted. Go home."

"I can't do that, Prince Chevalier."

I groaned and sat upright. She was careful not to look in my direction, but she couldn't hide the slump of her shoulders and sluggishness in her movements. "Go home," I repeated. "Stay there. If it makes you feel better, you can promise to work twice as hard to make up the time when you come back."

She shook her head and turned her back on me. "I can't do that, Prince Chevalier," she repeated, her voice quiet but firm. "I promised to make breakfast for Prince Gilbert when I'm done here, and—"

"No."

I climbed out of bed. She spun to face me before I reached her, throwing her hand out as a barricade and fixing me with a stern glare.

"No. This has to stop, Prince Chevalier."

I stared at this frustrating little woman, gauging her emotional state. She'd needed me to ignore her words and push past her defenses yesterday. Was that what she needed now? I took a step toward her, testing. She maintained steady eye contact with me as she took a step back.

"I can't go home right now, Prince Chevalier," she said, enunciating each word.

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Don't touch me."

"Clavis told me about your mother's condition. You should be with her right now."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Her back was against the wall now, her palm flat against my chest, her arm extended and elbow locked. She bit her lip, her fingers twitching against my shirt, as if she wanted to clutch at the fabric but wouldn't allow herself to do so. "Mother wanted me to move into the servants' quarters when I started working here," she admitted. "I wouldn't leave her, and I didn't think she could handle a move, so this was our compromise. I can't go home because she would rather I stay here."

We could have avoided so much trouble if she'd just done as her mother wanted. I clenched my jaw, debating the merits of throwing her over my shoulder and loading her into a carriage myself. That wouldn't go well.

"Fine. You can sleep here."

"You know I can't do that."

"I know you can't keep going like this."

It was just a whisper, but it stabbed my chest like a knife: "It won't be much longer."

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I exhaled through my nose, fighting the urge to embrace her, unable to turn my back on her. Then I felt her fingers curling into my shirt and pulling me closer. I opened my eyes, but she gasped and flattened her palm against me, shoving me back.

"No. I told you before not to touch me, and I need you to respect that. This... whatever this is..." She shook her head and swallowed. "It can't keep happening. I can't... I can't handle this right now. Please, Prince Chevalier."

She dropped her hand and wrapped it around her wrist, looking smaller and more vulnerable than ever. The ever-present darkness beneath her eyes spoke of her weariness, but those green eyes pleaded with me. I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her, give her what she insisted she didn't want despite all evidence to the contrary. But I relented, because when I looked into those eyes, I lost all reason.