A Beast's Tale

Chapter 72

It was nice to be clean and dry, sitting in a comfortable, familiar chair, with a book in one hand and a cup of hot tea in the other. The steaming black liquid was bitter on my tongue and warm in my stomach. I liked the bitterness, but right now, I had a taste for something sweet. Someone sweet. Like the little maid who'd shown obvious relief when I'd walked into the library, and who was now blushing and avoiding my eyes as she tried to explain falling asleep with her head on Gilbert's lap. The explanation was unnecessary, but she was adorable when she was flustered, even if Gilbert was the cause.

"I'm not proud of it, but he won't take 'no' for an answer, and there are some things that just aren't worth fighting him about," she said as she toyed with her ponytail, pulled over her right shoulder. "And you'd said I should close my eyes when he told me to... although now, I know you meant to do that when those men attacked you." Her green eyes lifted to mine. "You are fine, aren't you? You aren't hiding an injury so that I won't worry?"

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. "If I were, I failed."

The pink in her cheeks darkened to red. Her eyes darted away. "I'm sorry, I'm just... this afternoon has been... odd."

Not for me. Political maneuvering, dispatching assassins, extracting information from the boy who had become part of Jin's spy network—that was normal. Reading a book and drinking tea while rain tapped at the windowpanes was normal. Having a conversation with a maid was not.

She was hiding a mark on her neck. I knew because I'd never seen her playing with her ponytail before. She kept pulling it against her neck, threading her fingers through it to the end, and then repeating the process. I could see the tail end of her hair ribbon as well, and it wasn't the faded green ribbon she'd worn every day since I'd met her. It was jet black, visible against her hair only because of the way it reflected the light. Something black was peeking out of her apron pocket, too. It had to be long to reach from the bottom of the pocket to the top, and thin to keep from making a bulge. If it were another 'gift' from Gilbert, a long-stemmed black rose seemed likely. He had spent several hours in a rose garden with her, after all, and he had a penchant for sleight of hand. Picking a white rose and then swapping it for a black paper rose would have been an easy trick for him, and it would have distracted her from her anxiety about the situation for a few minutes.

But he wasn't here now. She and I were alone in my private library. And while I had plenty of reason to be irritated with Gilbert—and I would confront him later—my thoughts were drifting in another direction.

"I think I know what you and Prince Gilbert were trying to do. You were both trying to keep me safe, in your own ways, and I appreciate that, but he's..." She bit her lip, her eyes drifting toward me again. "He knows something about me, Prince Chevalier. If I can believe him, he... he knows—knew—my mother. He says he hates lying, but..."

"He's telling the truth."

"Then you know, too."

I nodded. "I can tell you if you'd like, but you're overwhelmed as it is."

She took a deep breath and let it out, then gave a small shake of her head. "If you think I don't need to know about it right now, then I'll trust you."

That word. That one little word, 'trust,' brought a sense of satisfaction and a smile to my lips. "You don't. Nor do you need to tolerate his advances, whatever threats he may make. You and your mother are under my protection."

She nodded. "Thank you. That helps." Her eyes flicked to the door, and then she bit her lip and looked at me. "You... you won't beat Prince Gilbert up for this, will you? I heard them talking about your sparring practice this morning."