A Dove's Tale

Chapter 135

"Good morning, Charlie."

"Good morning, Princess Ivetta, King Chevalier," the coachman called cheerily from his seat in the coach box, a wide smile on his face. "Pleasant day for a drive."

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

The rain had washed the cobblestones clean in the outer courtyard, where Charlie and a team of shining white horses waited with the royal carriage. No, gray horses. But without Licht or Keith around to correct me, they looked white, as white as the startlingly white carriage they pulled, and I decided there was nothing wrong with me calling a white horse white in my mind. A lead horse tossed its head, catching the bright sunlight with the metalwork in its traces and reflecting it around the courtyard to the shining silver armor of the guards and the brilliant golden rose emblazoned on the carriage door. It was a beautiful day.

"Ivetta, wait!"

I turned away from the open carriage door and Chevalier's waiting hand to see Yves trotting down the steps carrying a small box. From the way he supported its base with one hand, I guessed it was a dessert of some kind. He must have gone on another baking spree.

"Glad I caught you," he said. "Here. I saved this from the others last night."

"Oh, thank you," I said, taking it from him. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, it was the least I could do after yesterday," he said, smiling bashfully. "I didn't know you'd already had so much champagne."

He was so sensitive compared to the rest of his brothers. I smiled and shook my head. "Because I didn't tell you. It wasn't your fault."

"We need to go," Chevalier interjected coolly.

The clip-clop of hooves echoed off the stone walls, and I looked past Yves to the entrance as the Marquis de Michel stepped through the massive wooden doors. He and his carriage had arrived. His steely blue eyes scanned the courtyard without ever touching on me, and I felt a flicker of irritation. He'd given Chevalier and me his approval - or benign indifference, anyway - and now, I didn't matter. I may as well be invisible to him.

But I wasn't about to let him ruin my good mood.

"Good morning," I called to him. Then, to Yves, whose head snapped around to look at the Marquis and back at me so quickly that I heard his neck crack, "Thanks again. We'll be back later this evening."

"This evening?" he asked, frowning thoughtfully. "Are you sure you don't want to just stay there for the night?"

Chevalier offered me his hand and Yves a curt reply: "No."

I stepped up into the carriage, and Chevalier followed, dropping our books on the seat opposite us. "Don't wait up," I called to Yves, my voice carrying clearly through the open windows as Chevalier pulled the door shut. The carriage jostled into motion. I waved at Yves, and then Chevalier wrapped an arm around my shoulders and surprised me with a kiss.

"Chevalier," I protested, darting a glance past him to the courtyard as warmth flooded my cheeks. "Everybody can see us."

"I'm aware."

That teasing smirk could be so infuriating sometimes. At least we passed through the gate and onto the road quickly so I could relax.

"Well, I was going to say you could take a nap if you're tired, but you seem wide awake," I teased. "So, what did Yves make for us?"

"Cookies." Chevalier kept one hand on my far shoulder and took the box from me with the other, tossing it next to our books on the opposite seat. "And we just had breakfast."