A Beast's Tale

Chapter 22

I rarely visited the infirmary, but I knew better than to disobey Ivetta's order. It was no wonder Sariel had backed down from her. She was small, but her anger was a force to be reckoned with, even without the knowledge that I deserved nothing less than for her to take my sword and chop my hand off herself. In a way, her insistence that I see the doctor was the cruelest thing she could have done to me. Her inexplicable kindness hurt.

"Prince Chevalier, this is a surprise," the doctor greeted me nervously. He was one of the few who could stand in my presence without trembling, though even in my childhood, I'd terrified him. "I heard about the assassination attempt. Were you injured?"

"No," I said coldly, holding my hand out without further explanation. He would know better than to ask what had happened.

"Oh, my," he muttered, examining the cuts and bruises much as Ivetta had. Odd that her small hands were rougher than his, calloused from years of hard work. "But it's not as bad as it looks. Some ointment, some bandages, and you'll be good as new."

"Be quick about it," I snapped.

"Yes, of course, your highness."

I wouldn't have gone to the doctor for such minor injuries under normal circumstances, but I forced myself to sit still for his ministrations. It gave me time to figure out what I was going to do about my glove, Ivetta's insurance policy to make sure I followed her directions. There was no way I was going back to my room to get it from her, or to get the spare gloves from the bureau. Fortunately, my office should be empty today. Nokto would be sleeping in after his late night; Clavis would be investigating the assassination attempt; and Luke was never there unless he was summoned. I would just go without the glove until later, when I was sure she'd be gone from my room.

"There, all done. Will there be anything else?"

The doctor's words woke me from my reverie. "No."

"Prince Chevalier, are you feeling alright?" he asked, furrowing his wrinkled brow as he peered into my eyes.

"Yes," I said firmly, standing up quickly and leaving without sparing him another glance. He couldn't address my internal turmoil. What I needed now was to get my mind off of Ivetta.

If I was going to hide in my office from her, I may as well do some work.

That's what I was doing, wasn't I? Hiding from her. Hiding from a little maid half my size. The thought was almost laughable. Except I wasn't laughing, and I couldn't focus on the paperwork in front of me.

The folder of information about the Benitoite princess still sat in the wastebasket, mocking me. It would be a smart match. A few weeks ago, I would have seriously considered the proposal. Because love never mattered, never entered my mind. Romance belonged only in literature, and reality dictated that all relationships be politically advantageous. A strong alliance, a healthy heir; that was all I needed. Not a frustratingly beautiful little maid who made me second guess every decision, who invaded my every thought, whose striking green eyes haunted my dreams.

Leon burst in at some point later that morning, the anger in his flashing amber eyes and tense muscles a welcome interruption.

"What was the big idea about sending Ivetta to clean up that blood?" he asked angrily, storming across the room to my desk. He came to a stop in front of me and crossed his arms across his chest.

She hadn't told him. If she had, his sword would be at my throat. I would have preferred that to his yelling. But at least he was reacting appropriately, without any trace of uncalled for kindness or concern. And if I really wanted somebody to hit me, he'd be the one to do it.