A Dove's Tale

Chapter 139

"Rise and shine!"

I groaned and rolled onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow to hide from the light streaming through the windows. Theresa knew very well how late Chevalier and I got back the night before. I'd woken her up because I couldn't reach the fastenings at the back of my dress, and that triggered plenty of grumblings from her, along with snide comments that I should have asked Chevalier to help me.

"Five more minutes," I muttered.

"Nope." She yanked the blanket off of me, and I groaned again, curling into a stubborn ball. "You've neglected your duties too long, milady."

"We should have stayed the night," I grumbled.

"That's what I thought, but since you didn't, you have to wake up," she said cheerfully. "All the people who came to celebrate your engagement ceremony are waiting for a little acknowledgement, you know."

"I know, I know..."

"But before that, I spent all day yesterday helping Sariel go through all your presents. Look!"

I remembered tripping over something last night, but Theresa had insisted I didn't need to light a candle.

This had to be the most groaning I'd done in a single morning. 

"How bad is it?" I moaned, sitting up reluctantly and rubbing my eyes.

"It's not bad to get loads of presents!" she laughed. "Open your eyes. Come on!"

I sighed, steeling myself for the sight of piles of things I didn't need. Whatever Theresa wanted, she could have. I dropped my hands to my lap, and my breath caught in my throat.

Propped up against the wall opposite me was a portrait. A portrait of a woman I'd know anywhere. Long, silky black hair plaited in a braid that hung over her shoulder and past her waist, bright green eyes lit up with the smile on her full pink lips, her heart-shaped face turned up and to the side, gazing fondly at the man beside her. My mother. Younger than I'd ever seen her, an elaborate green gown fit for a queen adorning her slender figure. Because she was a queen. The queen of Garnet, with both hands wrapped around her husband's arm, my father, the king of Garnet. Arvon Romanov. Almost a full head taller than her, even without the crown on his head, gray streaking his short chocolate brown hair, sky-blue eyes looking down at his wife, a gentle smile on his lips.

Theresa rested a light hand on my shoulder. "Ivetta?"

"I...how?" I asked, my trembling voice squeaking past the lump in my throat.

The mattress shifted as she sat beside me, hugging my shoulders. "It's a gift from Obsidian. There's a huge crate in Sariel's office full of stuff they took from Garnet."

Warm tears dampened my cheeks as my heart throbbed in my chest. The pain was exquisite. A muddle of emotions fought for dominance, lifting me in a swell of joy and throwing me into an ocean of grief all in the same instant. I never thought I'd see Mother again, and to see her this way—so happy, so in love—and my father. He wasn't just a name anymore. He had a face. A face and a smile. He smiled a lot. I saw that in the crow's feet crinkling the corners of his eyes, the deep laugh lines etched between his rounded cheeks and his wide grin. Mother said he was kind and tender, and that was the best word to describe the way he was looking at her. Tender. Like she was the only person in the world, and he'd do anything for her. And she was looking at him the same way.

My vision blurred until I couldn't see them anymore. Theresa wrapped both arms around me, embracing me as I cried.

"I thought you'd be happy," she said.