A Beast's Tale

Chapter 16

I awoke to Ivetta's voice calling her morning greeting at nine o'clock. There was something off about her voice, something strained. And she must not have been humming, or I would have woken earlier, like usual.

"You're not humming," I mumbled.

"My throat's a little sore this morning, Prince Chevalier," she said dismissively.

Something wasn't right, and I didn't believe for a second that it was just a sore throat. She was uncharacteristically quiet, but her voice had been clear. Her posture was oddly tense, too, as it had been yesterday before she left. Sariel hadn't moved her mother, even after my warning, had he? No, he wasn't that foolish. And that wouldn't explain her uniform, either. She was wearing a winter uniform - long-sleeved, the skirt extending down to her ankles.

I watched her as we went about our business, but I found no other clues. She was careful not to look at me, clearly hiding something, and she wasn't going to volunteer any information. I needed to focus on the round table coming up in less than an hour, but...something was wrong. Very wrong. It had to wait, though. It could not take priority now. I finished breakfast and headed toward the door, but I stopped with my hand on the doorknob and looked back at her one last time. It suddenly occurred to me that she wasn't rolling her sleeves up as she worked. Even in the winter, most of the maids rolled their sleeves up when they were cleaning.

"Roll up your sleeves," I commanded, walking up behind her.

"Prince Chevalier?" she asked, startled, as she turned and looked up at me.

"You heard me."

There was a flicker of fear in her green eyes, but she looked down at her hands and slowly, reluctantly, complied.

Bruises. Bruises around her wrists, where somebody had grabbed her. I took her hands and studied them, all thoughts of the round table gone as anger rose within me. Who had done this? Sariel? No, he'd gotten my message loud and clear. This had to have happened after she left.

"Are there more?"

She hesitated, confirming my suspicion.

"Show me."

"I don't-"

"Show me."

She bit her lip nervously, but she pulled her collar to the side, exposing one bruised shoulder for just a second. I caught the fabric as she released it, pulling it back again to inspect the injury more closely. These were worse than the ones on her wrists, almost black where fingers had dug into her skin. What monster would dare to do this to her?

"Prince Chevalier-"

"Anywhere else?" I asked, baring her other shoulder. There was a matching set of bruises there, too.

She took a step back from me, straightening her collar, and I glimpsed an ugly scratch across her chest. "Nowhere I'm showing you," she said quietly but firmly. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. My fingers touched the skin just above the neckline of her dress. She swatted my hand away and hid the scratches with her other hand, but she knew I'd seen them.

"Who did this?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice calm.

"It's none of your business, your highness." She looked miserable, and she couldn't hold my gaze. The sight made me even angrier. She felt guilty. Somebody had attacked her, and she felt guilty.

I stepped closer to her, catching her chin and forcing her to meet my eyes. "Who?"

She pushed my hand away and stepped back again. "Don't try to pretend you care, Prince Chevalier," she snapped. "I'm just a useful tool, remember?"