A Dove's Tale

Chapter 144

"Good morning! Ready for breakfast?"

The fog of sleep and a pounding headache made it hard for me to identify the overly-cheerful voice. It wasn't Theresa. I sat up and rubbed my eyes as the name of its owner filtered slowly to the forefront of my mind.

"Clavis?" I mumbled, focusing on him in the open doorway. The room was still dark, with only the moon and starlight shining through the windows to light his grinning face in silver. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same thing of you," he replied, looking for all the world like a cat who had just caught a mouse.

I frowned, staring at him in confusion as awareness trickled slowly in. The door wasn't supposed to be there. It was to the right of me and the bed, but it was supposed to be straight ahead and to the left. The pale blue walls weren't right, either, nor was the light blue rug, and my eyes kept picking up more incongruities as they wandered the room. A fluffy white comforter over my lap. And under that comforter, a hand on my right hip, a hand that was too big to be mine. I followed it to the forearm against my back and turned to my left as an irritated sigh filled the silence.

"I need to start locking my door," Chevalier muttered into the pillow.

Suddenly, I was wide awake. It all came rushing back to me. When I left Licht's room last night, my guards were gone, and Chevalier had been there waiting for me. I'd told him he needed to talk to Licht right away, and he'd insisted I go to his room rather than risk walking the halls alone. And I had been too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to argue against his paranoia.

My face was blazing hot with embarrassment.

I wanted to disappear, but as usual, he was unaffected. His eyes weren't even open. He could at least glare at Clavis for me, but no. He lay there, his face half-buried in the white pillow, his pale blonde hair fell messily over the other half, allowing me to see one closed eye through the fringe, and—and darn it, he looked cute. Really cute. Too cute for me to be mad at him.

"You didn't forget about breakfast, did you, Ivetta?" Clavis asked.

"I—wh-what?" I stammered, whipping my head around to face him again, blushing to the tips of my ears. My throbbing head protested the action.

His position in the doorway kept him well out of Chevalier's reach, which was probably why Chevalier wasn't bothering to threaten him, and he really did look like a cat who'd caught a mouse. Me. I was the mouse.

"Breakfast," Clavis said, clearly enjoying himself. "The Simmons left already, so it'll just be the two of us. Sorry, Chev, I didn't make enough for you."

"But—"

"Oh, don't worry about him. He'd rather sleep in, anyway. But the food's getting cold, and I know how much you've been dying to sample my cooking, so we really should get going."

"I—"

"Ah, yes, you have to pacify Chev first. I understand. I'll just step outside. But don't take too long."

He winked and left, closing the door behind him without letting me get a word in edgewise. I flopped onto my back and covered my face in my hands. The constant throbbing in the right side of my forehead reminded me of all the crying I did yesterday.

"Oh..." I moaned, a combination of pain and frustration.

Chevalier applied pressure to my right hip, sliding me closer to him. He nuzzled into my neck, his warm breath doing nothing to cool my flushed skin or slow my racing heart, and I realized I was in trouble. His left hand settled on my stomach and moved slowly and deliberately across to the right side of my waist, and his lips brushed against my ear as he purred in a low voice, "You don't have to go, little dove."