A Dove's Tale

Chapter 47

The door sealing Prince Chevalier inside his private library and away from the main library wasn't thick enough. I dusted the same shelf three times before I realized what I was doing, and then I moved on to dust another shelf - three times. My mind was a spinning, jumbled fog. And a few minutes to five o'clock, when I normally collected his teacup and said goodbye, it took everything in me to go into that room. I didn't look at him, I didn't make eye contact, and I'm not exactly sure what, if anything, I said before I bolted out of there.

It wasn't until I was walking home, breathing in the fresh spring air, that I could finally think.

This was bad.

Simple attraction was one thing. Flirting was one thing. That was another thing entirely. It went far beyond the teasing that made my heart race and my cheeks flush into very dangerous territory where he not only liked me, but he cared about me. That was why he hated hearing me say I didn't matter, and that was what had triggered that...consequence? Was that what he meant it to be? Or had he meant to do something else entirely?

That seemed likely, given his frustration.

I couldn't handle a consequence like that too often. Or ever again. My heart started pounding out of control and heat flooded my cheeks just thinking about it. This had to stop. I was just a maid, and I wasn't about to settle for being someone's secret cherished rose. Which meant I couldn't encourage Prince Chevalier, and I couldn't let myself end up in a situation like that ever again.

I took a deep breath and shook my head firmly, trying to dislodge the remnants of him clouding my senses. There was something of much greater importance for me to worry about, anyway. I was in danger - and not just from him and my own volatile emotions. Prince Clavis' party had undoubtedly been the topic of conversation after I left the pair of hostile brothers alone in Prince Chevalier's private library, and the partygoers were a group of wicked, malcontent traitors, to put together all the colorful terms I'd heard used to describe them. They wanted Prince Chevalier dead. I worked for Prince Chevalier. It wasn't a stretch to say that made me a target, even though I knew very little of his work. But if anybody thought they could use me to get to him...

It shouldn't be possible. Whatever anybody said, I was still just a maid, and I didn't matter in the greater scheme of things. But he did care about me, and that meant I was a weakness. A liability.

I exhaled deeply and stared up at the clear blue sky. What it all boiled down to was this: I needed to get as far away from here - and him - as soon as possible. That would be best for everybody involved.

But I couldn't go anywhere while Mother was still alive.

The city fell away behind me, and I forced my thoughts from the palace and Prince Chevalier to home and Mother. I had to tend to her, put groceries away, cook dinner, tidy up a bit, and, hopefully, the bucket wouldn't need any attention. Mother and I discussed it, and it now had a semi-permanent home next to the bed while I was gone, just in case. She hadn't needed it since the rainstorm, but she was getting so weak, I worried about her getting to the outhouse without help. And she was really weak this morning.

I also needed to make arrangements for her care in the event that something happened to me before she...

My head - and my heart - hurt.

The stench of the bucket hit me as soon as I walked into my house, chasing any remaining thoughts of Prince Chevalier out of my mind. Mother was asleep, pale, and covered in a sheen of sweat. I swallowed down vomit and grabbed the bucket, leaving it on the grass behind the house so I could breathe while I tended to her.

"Mother," I said, trying to keep any urgency out of my voice as I shook her shoulder.

"Mm...Ivetta?"

Her eyes fluttered open, her irises dull with pain.