Chapter 1: Bravery Becomes Her
Summary:
Chevalier meets the soon-to-be Belle in a less than auspicious moment.
Chapter Text
Of course Leon had to step in. The girl stood shivering, her arm thrown up over her face, braced for the blow. And Leon caught it like some storybook hero. Chevalier snorted. This kind of petty drama took place a thousand times a day in a thousand places with innocent girls and kind youths that didn’t know the world was a cruel place. Stopping this one drunk on this one street corner changed nothing.
Chevalier rode slowly forward, watching the scene unfold, intent on riding past. The drunk wanted to fight. The girl - she looked twenty at best, tried to intervene again. Her books, a pile of leather and canvas bound tomes, were kicked out into the street like garbage. He couldn’t help but notice one of the titles in large gold lettering down the spine. The Rose and the Lance. A story of fated lovers torn apart by poverty and war.
It was a good story. One of his favorites. Chevalier pulled his mount to a stop. His gaze settled on the drunk. “Who would be so insolent? Was it you?”
“Huh? Who the hell do you think you are? Stop sneerin’ at me!” The drunk took a wobbling step forward, then another.
Leon smirked, only a quirk of his brows showing any surprise that his older brother would get involved. He didn’t move as the drunk began stomping on the scattered books and other items the girl had dropped when she stepped between him and the little boy. A brooch. A delicate hairpin. They snapped as the drunk’s boots ground them against the cobblestone.
Chevalier could smell the wine and piss and stale vomit from the man. And now the drunk was solidly between him and his destination, in his way.
The girl flinched back as if she sensed danger, even as the drunk kept stomping and shouting.
“I didn’t intend to take part in this vulgar side show, but perhaps this is how one finds amusement at a festival?” Chevalier dismounted in one smooth motion. His fingers found his sword hilt. It whispered cruel promises as it slid from the sheath, ready to shed blood.
“Wait!” The girl was trembling like a leaf, but she put herself between Chevalier and the drunk. “Wait! No!” She looked from the prince to the drunk, then turned to the man. “Pull yourself together! Now!”
The drunk looked confused. He stopped stomping and gazed at her, slack jawed. “Wha?”
Chevalier froze at the whip-crack sound of her palm connecting with the drunkard’s face. The girl slapped him hard enough that the sound echoed through the plaza. What an irrational act. It advantaged no one but her attacker.
“What was that for?” The drunkard rubbed his cheek. It was red and would certainly bruise.
She leaned in, heedless of the stench and personal danger. “You need to calm down. Or would you rather die over this?” Her hand gestured to the boy, still sprawled on the ground and to her ruined books.
He blinked. “What are you-”
Her head jerked in the direction of Prince Chevalier and the drunk’s eyes followed. Chev experienced only exasperation as the situation dawned on the man. What a fool. The girl too.
As if sensing he’d thought of her, the girl turned to face him. Her lips curved in a tight, nervous smile. “I am so sorry about all this! We didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. I hope you can forgive and forget this incident.”
Her hands clutched at her skirt, giving away her fear. Though Chevalier was impressed at her even tone and straight back. Most commoners would be weeping. Bent double and bowing. Wasting his precious time with flattery and promises that meant nothing.
Then she bobbed the most awkward curtsy Chev ever saw. In all his years at court and more riding the borders and visiting his lands, he’d never seen someone look so adorably clumsy. He blinked, showing no sign of the momentary warmth in his thoughts.
Leon was not so reserved. He burst into laughter, head thrown back with pure amusement. He took a breath. “Don’t worry. He’s not so petty as to kill someone over something so slight.”
Chevalier sighed and slid his sword back into the sheath. “I tire of this.”
Of course, that was exactly the moment Clavis appeared. Like a jack in the box. A fool leaping out to surprise his audience. He smirked, taking in the tableau. “Are you done playing, Chevalier?”
He leapt back into his saddle. “Yes. This was a waste of time.” Chev couldn’t help the way his eyes slid toward the girl though. What a strange little commoner. Defending a man that would have beaten her a moment ago. A drunk that destroyed her things. His eyes went back to the books. Tattered paper and grime-encrusted covers. “Are these your books?”
The girl lifted her chin. “Yes.”
Chevalier turned his attention back to her. She was pretty, young, her hands soft and skin pale. Not a field hand then. A schoolteacher perhaps? One with backbone and good taste in literature. The scuffed volumes looked as if they would survive this treatment, at least.
Clavis interrupted his study. “Oh-ho what’s this? In the mood for romance?”
“Romance is worthless but-” Chev pulled his sword, moving too fast for the untrained eye to track. He stopped just shy of her throat.
The girl froze. Her wide, innocent eyes stared up at Chevalier on his horse. She’d been shivering with fright before, but now she only stood still, watching.
Chev studied her for a moment. Then, “Those books are worth more than you are. You’d do well to remember that.” He expected her to protest that. Or to cry. She only nodded. He felt his interest in her piqued, but there was no time or point in it. Inevitably, she would be as dull and stupid as everyone else. He put his blade away.
Then without a look back at the girl or his brothers, he rode on.
Clavis followed a moment later, and blessedly, without comment.
Chapter 2: Into the Lion's Den
Summary:
The Belle is introduced to the princes and given her task. Chevalier finds the scene tiresome.
Chapter Text
After putting in a brief appearance at a festival celebration for nobility on the mayor’s estate, Chevalier returned to the castle. His walk from the stable back was interrupted by a familiar voice. High and sweet and thoroughly annoyed.
“Hang on! Stop talking about me like that, alright? I’m right here. And - and who are you anyway?”
Chevalier stopped and turned. He couldn’t see through the decorative hedges and the high stone wall, but sound carried. It was the girl from town, he was sure.
“You can’t be serious. You don’t know who I am?” Yves’ voice now, sounding haughty as usual.
The girl replied. “That’s exactly what I am saying.”
“She’s not one of mine then,” Nokto chuckled.
“Who cares about that? I can’t believe she doesn’t know who I am! Unbelievable!” The slight, unshakeable burr of his accent still audible in Yves’ speech became more pronounced when he was flustered.
“Your Highnesses, introductions will have to wait. My deepest apologies.” Sariel’s voice, dark as coffee and smooth as silk.
Chevalier wondered how the girl factored into Sariel’s scheming. Four eyes was always up to something. His mind immediately went to the potential uses of the commoner, discarding the more improbable until he settled on the likeliest one. The tradition of the Belle. Of course. He didn’t need to hear more.
He left for the round table room, already adding this complication into his plans. The Belle would be no real obstacle. Not for him.
Clavis was already waiting at the round table. Chevalier sat beside him and watched in silence as his brothers filed in. They were a disparate group, to be sure. Half-brothers, united only in the shared blood of the dead king and little else. It hadn’t taken much time for the two factions to form.
Leon led the opposing faction. A worthy opponent, if annoying. His gentle-hearted ways would destroy Rhodolite. There was no space for compassion when your lands sat between hungry neighbors with large armies.
Jin smirked at him from across the table. A womanizing drunk that disguised a cunning mind beneath base jests. He was the king’s first born, though you would never know it by his actions.
Licht sat beside the eldest of them, his gaze focused on the wood grain of the table. He said little in these meetings, leaving decisions to others.
Nokto and Yves came in together, bickering. They were so loud. Repeating the same arguments, the same insults.
Luke ambled in and fell into a chair. It creaked under him dangerously. The youngest prince had no courtly graces and had fallen into Chev’s faction almost by accident.
Chevalier sighed. This was pointless. They didn’t need a meeting or the decision of some commoner Belle. He was the only choice to lead Rhodolite, if their country was going to survive. He looked up as the doors opened.
Sariel led the girl in like a sacrificial lamb. She looked much as she had before. Startled. Afraid. Her face was pale, eyes wide. If Chev were a kind man, he might have felt sorry for her. As it was, he felt only impatient. The torment of this commoner was frivolous and yet, Sariel insisted on stretching it out.
The princes introduced themselves, starting with Luke. A litany of greetings and welcomes that went around the table. A plague of senseless words. And then it came to the fool. Clavis, laughter on his lips.
“I’m the third prince. Clavis Lelouch. But please, call me Clavis.” He grinned widely, elbowing Chev. “That show you put on earlier today was amusing. You liked it too, didn’t you, Chev?”
Chevalier narrowed his eyes. “It was ridiculous.” He was tempted to walk out, but he remembered the way the girl stood up to the drunk - and to him. Despite himself, he allowed a small smile to lift the corners of his lips. “But considering the courage you showed I will at least tell you my name. I am the Second Prince Chevalier Michel.”
For a moment, their eyes held. She didn’t flinch or draw back from the intensity of his gaze. She took a breath, nodded, and then the moment passed. Leon was introducing himself and Chevalier was sorting her reaction. He wanted her to look at him again, so he could see into her. Understand her and how she fit into the orderly world he wanted to build. It annoyed him that he could not easily dismiss her into any of his categories.
“It’s very nice to meet you all. I’m Emma. And … I still don’t understand why I’m here.” She smiled thinly and fiddled with her skirt.
Sariel’s smile was wide and his eyes held a dangerous glint. “It is a long-held tradition in Rhodolite that the king be chosen by a commoner. The commoner granted this solemn duty is known as the Belle.”
The girl - Emma - looked thoughtful for a moment. “Wait. Yes, I remember this!”
Chevalier sighed. It was a chore to watch others reach a conclusion he’d gotten to already.
“And they are called that because they have a pure and beautiful heart! That’s why they are able to make the correct choice.” Emma clapped her hands together, excited to remember what a Belle was.
A pure heart. Well, she might have that, Chev thought. Idiots often did. And she was … beautiful. Objectively.
“That’s right.” Sariel laced his hands behind his back like a stern schoolteacher.
“Wait! Then … I’m the next Belle?”
Chevalier snorted. A few of his brothers made quiet exclamations. Surely it didn’t take this long to draw a line between two clear points?
Ever patient, Sariel nodded. “Yes. And you will be choosing one of these princes as the next king of Rhodolite.”
Despite himself, Chev felt charmed by the stunned look that followed this statement. Emma’s whole body went rigid and her lips parted. Her brows went up and her nose crinkled. She really was expressionate. Like a moving painting or an articulated puppet. He’d never had much interest in the emotions that ran through others before, but this Emma girl was entertaining.
“But … why me? This is a decision that affects everyone in Rhodolite! Who am I to decide that?” She took a step back toward the door.
Jin took the opportunity to speak up, still wearing his usual smirk. “Yes, I wondered that too. What was the deciding factor?”
Sariel’s whip-thin smile widened. “The way she slaps.”
“She was that good, huh?” Jin laughed.
There was more chatter, nothing substantive. Chevalier had little interest in reassuring the girl she should be Belle. He settled back in the chair. This decision was already made for him and he was ready to be done with the round table.
When Sariel finally called for a vote, Chev was the first to lift his hand.
“That was quick, King Highness.” Nokto raised a quizzical brow.
Luke nodded. “Yeah. You’re our leader. Should you agree, just like that?”
Chevalier gave them both a cold look. “I don’t care who becomes the Belle. It’s irrelevant.”
Emma looked around the table, still gawping. “Wait, he’s your leader? But I thought-”
Sariel interrupted. “Yes. The princes are divided into two primary factions. Prince Leon’s faction could be said to favor domestic politics. While Prince Chevalier focuses on foreign affairs. The princes in each faction generally align with those goals, so yes. The vote is entrusted to the faction leaders.” His eyes fell on Leon. “And what is your decision?”
Leon gestured to the girl. “I want to know what Emma thinks.”
Chevalier closed his eyes, counseling patience. It was not his strength. Of course Leon would drag his feet. And he did. Asking nonsensical questions, listening to Emma’s idealistic drivel. If this wasn’t a round table discussion, he would have left already.
Finally, Leon lifted his hand.
“Then it’s decided.” Sariel nodded in satisfaction.
Chev stood and walked to the door.
“Leaving already?” Leon tapped a finger against the wood table.
“My business here is concluded.”
Clavis, ever the helpful fool, called out. “Wait, don’t you think you should stay? Woo Belle a bit first?”
“That would be a waste of my time.” Chevalier felt his jaw clench. “Whoever the Belle selects, I will be the future king.”
“You what?” Emma’s timid voice followed his proclamation.
He could feel the weight of her gaze. Her gentle features taut with anxious confusion. She needed someone to reassure her, but he was not that someone. Chevalier let his gaze go round the room, challenging any of his half-brothers to disagree. Then he settled on Emma. He couldn’t help but note the tremble in her hands as she gripped her skirt. “If you get in my way, I will deal with you. Keep that in mind little Belle.”
“Right,” she breathed.
Chevalier left and did not look back. He could care less about Sariel’s machinations, so long as four eyes did not interfere with his plans. There were borders to secure, noble factions to deal with, lands to manage … there was no time to think about one frightened girl tossed into the palace with these savage nobles.
The chiefest of the beastly princes ignored how easily his mind conjured her image. Brave little Emma. But even the brave could be devoured by beasts.
Chapter 3: Blood and Roses
Summary:
Chevalier handily manages another assassination attempt, this time with an unfortunate audience.
Chapter Text
Chevalier wanted this over with quickly. Such brash assassins deserved little enough of his time. That they could not see this obvious trap only made him more annoyed. He sprawled across a stone bench, sitting like he imagined Jin must sit in a common tavern. Legs stretched long, arms wide, wearing a smirk that said he had nothing to worry about. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword.
The crimson roses swayed in a light afternoon breeze. They scented the air with sweetness, and loose petals swirled in little ribbons of color before falling to the ground. The palace felt like a world away from this silent space. Only the sound of birdsong disturbed the quiet. Then it came.
Gravel crunching under heavy boots. The ring of metal on metal.
Chev’s smile went wide. His patience was thin and he had no more for these would be assassins. It was time for them to die.
“Brutal Beast! You’ll pay for your -”
His mouth still moved after Chevalier’s sword pierced his chest, but there was no sound. Chev kicked the assassin back and spun to the next threat. His strike caught a sneaking assassin in the ribs and sent him back into the tangle of rose bushes. Blood and flowers stained the grass in splashes of bright red.
A third assassin nearly caught Chev with a low swipe at his legs, but the second prince had been training for fights like this since he could walk. He leapt back and lashed out with a kick that caught the assassin in the thigh. Chevalier didn’t let up as his attacker fell. He slashed but the assassin parried.
Impatience blossomed in Chevalier. There were more important things for him to be doing in the wake of the King’s death. Amateur assassins be damned. The anger lent speed to his reflexes and it took only another lunge to pin the unfortunate attacker to the ground.
Chevalier examined his blood-drenched blade. No nicks, no cracks. He would need to clean it later. A tool had to be cared for properly to continue being useful. His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps on the garden path. One stride he recognized. The slouching, cheerful step of his brother and rival. The other …
He turned. The timid, dainty steps belonged to the Belle. She looked as if she were ready to run away. Every line of her posture told him she didn’t want to be there. But she gripped her skirts in white-knuckled fists and met his gaze with clear eyes. How interesting.
She began to curtsy. Her lips were pale and thin, twisted into a tense smile that looked more like a grimace. Then she stopped mid-motion. Her mouth opened. Closed again. She straightened awkwardly. Her eyes fixed on a part of his cloak.
Chevalier could see the thoughts as they crossed her mind reflected in her expression. First, confusion. Then worry. Then certainty. Followed by horror. Her head turned slightly, taking in the flowerbeds. The leaves were splashed with crimson stains, the blossoms crushed, roots torn from the soft earth.
The Belle’s eyes settled on one of the bodies. Her shoulders drew up and in a small voice she asked, “Prince Chevalier, what happened here?”
Clavis was laughing behind his hand. His eyes danced with merriment as they went from the Belle to his brother and back again.
Chevalier felt a tick of annoyance. Clavis was in his faction and should yield instead of playing these endless games. He glanced from his brother down to the dead man. “If you can’t tell with your own eyes then you are beyond foolish.”
Her gaze lifted from the dead to Chevalier’s sword. He still held it loosely in his offhand. A drop of blood glistened in the late afternoon light as it fell from the tip to water the grass below him. The Belle began to tremble. She looked like a fawn, too weak to run or fight. Too frightened to do more than watch with her wide, innocent eyes.
Clavis shook his head. “Ah, you’ve made a big show of it again, eh Chev?”
So that was it. Chev’s lips curved in a cruel smile. “Get this cleaned up, Clavis.”
“Awww, that’s no way to treat your little brother! But then again, some things never change.” He chuckled. His eyes never strayed far from the Belle, though he didn’t address her directly.
Chevalier was sure there was nothing he could say that would make a difference here. And no point to the effort. He gestured to the dead. “My clothes are stained because of this vermin.” He would need to waste even more time changing into something clean. Bloodstains tended to frighten soft nobles and palace servants - delay in either direction.
The Belle took a sharp breath. “H-how could you?!” She bit her lip and closed her eyes, breathing through her nose in slow, deep draughts.
She seemed … angry. Chevalier watched the play of emotions across her taut features. The fear subsided beneath a wash of outrage then she mastered herself. The anger faded to determination as she opened her eyes again.
“Wise choice.” Chev stepped close, his gaze focused beyond her as she gasped. There wasn’t time to explain and he didn’t want to waste breath on more. He grabbed the Belle’s arm and threw her aside, out of harm’s way.
The girl shrieked as she tumbled to the ground, limbs flailing. Had Chevalier not been preoccupied with the assassin behind her, it might have been amusing. Clavis seemed to think so, judging by his merry look. None of that mattered though. Only the sword gutting his assailant held weight in this moment.
A simple lunge and thrust, the tug of muscle and fat parting as he swept the cut up and then it was over.
With a final gasp, the assassin crumpled to the ground. A spray of fine, red mist spattered the three of them. Clavis took out a kerchief, dabbing at his face. The Belle reached for her cheek with a look of disbelief.
One would think she’d never seen a man die, Chevalier thought. But then, that was likely true. The Belle seemed a gentle sort. Much too soft and naive to face the noble beasts that made the palace their lair. Her trembling lips parted to speak, but he interrupted before she could begin. “The words you were about to speak would have been a grave error on your part.” His gaze set a new tremor through her.
A kind man might have offered her comfort. A good man might have told her it was all going to be alright. Chevalier was none of those things. If she was to be their Belle, she needed to understand that palace life was not all blossoms and no thorns. It was vicious and bloody and now she was caught up in it whether she liked it or not. Chev gestured at the bodies. “If you don’t wish to end up like these, I suggest you learn your place little fool.”
Clavis’ lips turned up in a small, triumphant smile.
Chevalier ignored him as he wiped his sword clean on a dead man’s clothes. “So. What business do you have with me?”
She looked as if she could not breathe. As if the mere pressure of his gaze pinned her to the ground. Her mouth opened and then closed again soundlessly.
Apparently, her bravery at the festival was an isolated moment. One instance of courage in a life of cowering. Perhaps she truly was a fool, only able to show backbone when she didn’t know the risks. The thought left him with an odd feeling of loss. He shook it off and frowned down at her. “If you have nothing to say, then leave. You’re in the way.”
The Belle gave a jerky nod of agreement and scrambled to her feet. Without another word to either prince, she bolted.
Chevalier watched her for a moment then turned his cold gaze onto his brother. “Clavis. Why did you bring her here?”
“Well given your anti-social tendencies, I’m very concerned about your future.” He grinned, his expression at odds with his pitying tone. “I thought engaging with some new people would do you good.”
Of course he wouldn’t give a serious answer. Chev’s eyes narrowed.
Clavis waved a hand at him. “Oh come on! Don’t give me that look. I’m only telling you the truth, hard as it is to hear.” He tapped his chin. “Of course, then again, I really thought the Belle would be able to handle seeing beastly deeds for herself …”
There would be more than one angle to this approach, Chevalier thought. Clavis’ machinations and pranks were never simple or straightforward. He was cursed with idealistic idiots and devious schemers for brothers, and damn them all for getting in his way at every turn. He turned his eyes toward the palace. “So in other words, you intended for the Belle to find me in this situation?”
His brother said nothing in reply, only watched him with his inscrutable golden eyes.
“You must have become very prescient indeed to predict this attack.”
Clavis laughed and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh no no no! Not at all! I couldn’t have anticipated such carnage! No - this was a complete accident. Really.”
“Lies.” Chevalier nudged the nearest dead man with his boot. “No matter how I look at this, it appears to be your doing.” He did not see any obvious signs of allegiance to any house, but there was something familiar about the man’s face. “Tell me, Clavis. Did you hire these yourself? Or did you have help from some disgruntled noble?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you could possibly mean.” His smile said otherwise. Taunting. Provoking.
Chevalier wasn’t sure what his brother wanted from this. Was it a serious attempt or was there some hidden objective Chev could not see the end goals from where he stood.
Clavis took his silence as an answer and laughed. “You know, you could try asking these fellows. They might be able to speak to you yet …”
Whatever Clavis suggested, Chevalier knew it would only lead him astray. He gave his head a definitive shake. “No. I don’t want to waste time on such trifles.” He swept his cloak over his shoulder and met his brother’s gaze. “If one day I find your behavior to be intolerable, it will be your blood staining this blade.” He slid his sword into the sheath with a little more force than necessary.
“Right. I’ll keep that in mind … for now at least.”
Chevalier gave him one last parting look of warning and then left. Clavis was a trial. If not for his usefulness … that threat he’d left with was not an idle one. And now there was an innocent party to consider.
The Belle. It irritated him that she could not see how she was being used. That she’d fallen right into Clavis’ plans. He wanted to ignore her plight, but there was something about her that drew him. Perhaps it was the books. Regardless, he would have to keep the Belle out of his brother’s manipulations.
Purely for practical reasons, he told himself. The Belle could not be compromised. That was all. What other reasons could the Brutal Beast have? The scent of blood and roses followed him through the palace, and the memory of wide, frightened eyes.
Chapter 4: Silk and Steel
Summary:
Chevalier discovers the Belle will not back down, thanks to Clavis' antics.
Chapter Text
Persistence was a trait Chevalier could admire, at least, when it wasn’t directed at him. When it was, that trait seemed far less admirable.
The Belle stood in front of his desk, lips pressed into a tight, bloodless line. Her hands gripped her skirts as if she thought the fabric a shield. “Prince Chevalier. I - I …”
He lets his lips slide into a frown, and placed his full attention on her. After the incident in the garden, he’d expected she would keep her distance. That had been part of Clavis’ gambit, he thought. Though he had more than one theory on Clavis’ end goals. Trust, he thought, but not too much. Regardless of his brother’s intent, here she was. Still watching him with her wide, innocent eyes. He felt something odd in his chest, a bit like a cough. A constriction of breath.
She ducked her head, swallowed nervously.
Chevalier’s gaze grew colder. “You’re a disruption to my work. Leave.”
“But …”
“Do you want me to lose my temper as I did yesterday? Then by all means, continue.” His words made her flinch.
The Belle wavered for a moment, clearly fighting herself. Her fear was obvious under the thin veneer of courtesy, as was this odd sense of duty she clung to. She slipped into a graceful curtsy. “Then … another time, Prince Chevalier.”
Chev watched her hurry away. He could not understand why she insisted on forcing herself into his presence again. His reputation alone kept most folk away. And that was good. A king had no time to waste on wilting violets.
He sat back down and reached for the report on Obsidianite border incursions. They were growing bolder, it seemed. That heralded a change. He picked up a bulging, leatherbound document carrier. Notes from spies and other sources.
It would be a long day, he thought. And he had yet to read up on the changes to the Jadeite court this past month. Somewhere, he had intelligence on Benitoite’s arrangements with Obsidian too. With all of this to consider, his mind should be firmly on his duties. Yet he couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted back to the Belle. Emma.
Why was she so persistent? Did she see some gain in this for herself? She didn’t strike him as a social climber or a schemer. Just a frightened young woman, thrust into a position she neither expected nor wanted. He wondered if she knew how much of a target she would become, should her duty become common knowledge. And even if no one suspected she was the Belle, there was risk. One did not become close to the royal family without gaining the notice of its enemies.
He did not see the Belle again that day, and eventually he was able to banish her from his thoughts as he considered weightier things.
The next day, Chevalier set off to meet with some of the nobles that had their lands on the borders. Most supported his aggressive stance. They understood the danger Obsidian posed. They suffered the losses from raids, lost loved ones, lived with the threat of more violence.
Clavis, Luke, and Nokto accompanied him to the meeting, though Nokto quickly disappeared with some lively widow. Luke grew bored and wandered off down another garden path. Probably for a nap.
Chevalier didn’t need his brothers to assist, but presenting a united front for his faction lent an image of strength. He could appreciate that.
The meeting didn’t take long. Enough time to learn the latest reports were accurate, so far as these men and women knew. Chev let Clavis handle the questioning, for the most part, as well as the courtesies. It seemed to set them at ease.
When the nobles finally took their leave, Chevalier let himself relax a fraction. He settled himself on the grass as he had when he was a boy. Laying back on the soft, springy turf. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. It helped him draw in the bits of information he had to create a full picture.
Clavis snorted, used to this behavior. “I’ll just walk a bit,” he called over to his brother. “Don’t get assassinated, hm?”
Chev didn’t waste time with a reply. In the warm afternoon sun, with the smell of flowers and the music of flowing water, he was able to submerge himself in his thoughts. The world faded and there was only the narrative - aggression, submission, resources, troops, allies, weapons - a tumult of thinly connected ideas. A girlish shriek pulled him out of his meditation. Then -
“Ahahaha! That was a perfect reaction!” Clavis’ laughter.
The rustle of a lady’s gown. “Clavis!”
“Relax! I was just checking to see that you’re doing alright. Yesterday it looked as if all the blood drained from your face, but as red as you look now, I’ve no need to worry!”
Chevalier’s frown deepened. What had his brother done just now?
The Belle cleared her throat. “So. You came here to pick on me then?”
“Oh no. I just had something to give to Chev.”
The second prince felt his eye twitch. What was Clavis up to now? And why did his brother feel it necessary to pull him into his games?
“Okay. But Prince Chevalier isn’t here.”
Chev realized then that she couldn’t see him from where she stood. He opened his eyes and turned his head. He could just make out her profile through the branches of a nearby rose bush. If he sat up, she’d be able to see him easily, but from here, he was hidden.
Clavis laughed again. “Oh ho, you haven’t noticed. My goodness! Well, this is a great opportunity. Why don’t you come along with me and have a chat with Chev too?”
“No! I mean, no thank you.”
“Awww what’s with that sour face? Does he really frighten you so much?”
Chevalier could see the way she flinched at his mention, and her look now was one of great reluctance. He supposed that was normal after watching him kill a man in cold blood. Such innocents could not bear the burden of their own defense. He realized as he watched her tense expression that he wished she hadn’t seen that. Before, she’d looked intimidated by him - but most people did - now, she was actually frightened. As if Chev were a true beast that could not be trusted around gentle folk.
Belle nodded agreement.
“My goodness! You are such a cute little rabbit.” Clavis reached out to touch a gloved thumb to her chin.
It bothered Chevalier to see his brother touch her. It was … inappropriate.
She pulled back from his touch. “What?”
“Oh yes,” Clavis’ smile widened. “You’re so awkward and adorable right now that it makes me want to pounce on you.”
The Belle’s fist clenched. “Even if I was a rabbit, rabbits still have teeth - ah!” She shrieked as Clavis grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest. She barely held him back with the palm of her hand.
Chevalier nearly sat up but he knew this was all theater for his benefit. Part of some scheme or running joke. He could not give his brother the satisfaction of a reaction, even anger.
Clavis took her chin between his fingers and tilted her face towards his. He examined her as one might an item at market. “Hm. Maybe there is some truth to what Chev said about you.”
“What are you talking about,” she asked breathlessly.
“No one is more a fool than one who freezes in every confrontation, as you are now.” Clavis shook his head and sighed. “At any rate, it would be out of the question for a noble beast to want to talk to a quivering rabbit like an equal.”
“I -” She swallowed, searching for what she ought to say.
Clavis let her go and she stumbled back from him. “You’ll never be a Belle if you act like this. At the most, you are just an insignificant little bunny to Chev right now. Is that what you want?”
Chevalier sighed. His brother wasn’t wrong, precisely, but it was a waste of time to explain it. The Belle was a fragile thing and he had no interest or need in breaking her. Let her have her month in the palace. When it ended, Chev would be king and she could return to wherever she came from. She didn’t need to do more than stay out of his way.
The Belle was quiet for a moment but her shoulders squared after a deep breath. “Of course not! I am the Belle and I will do my duty!”
“Then be bold. Be brash. Like the tamer of a wild animal! Do you understand?” Clavis clapped his hands gleefully. “Don’t fear the beast, Emma. Even the Bloody Tiger will become a pet cat if you can tame him.” Clavis’ gaze darted to where he knew his brother lay. “If you truly want to choose the next king, you must be prepared to venture into the beast’s lair. Are you prepared to tame the wild beast?”
It was so melodramatic that Chevalier almost snorted. A pile of complete -
“Yes! I’ll give it everything I have. I will make him accept me as Belle!”
Complete nonsense. Chevalier couldn’t help the way his lips curved into a small smile. She sounded so determined. He heard notes of steel in her voice and an undercurrent of excitement.
“Hear that, Chev?” Clavis cackled. “Belle is going to tame you.”
Chevalier pushed himself up onto a nearby bench, eyes narrowed at the pair. What kind of mad woman would claim she could tame him? “Don’t drag me into your ridiculous conversations.”
“Oh … oh no …” The Belle turned to look at him, her expression one of abject horror. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of embarrassment now. She bit at her lower lip as if she might hold back more foolish pronouncements. As she met his gaze, a hint of defiance entered her expression. A determination that overtook her fear.
Chev felt a smile curl the edges of his lips. So she had some steel left in her afterall. “I don’t believe you have what it takes to tame a beast.”
At his challenge, her chin firmed and her shoulders drew back. She lifted her head a fraction as if to reply that she would prove him wrong.
Before she could say more, Chevalier stood. He forced the smile from his lips. He had wasted enough time already, he thought. Lying in the grass like a boy without a care in the world. Listening in on this, this ridiculous girl. He regarded her a moment longer before moving his attention to Clavis. “Summon the clown to the office later.”
His brother shrugged. “Sure. I can. But why don’t you speak with the Belle a little longer, since you’re both here?”
“I have no interest in this simpleton.” Chevalier wasn’t sure himself if he intended the insult as a challenge or if he truly wished to dismiss her. Both, perhaps. He disliked the sudden uncertainty he felt, a sensation he was not accustomed to. He adjusted his cloak and turned to leave before his brother could needle him again.
The Belle reached for him. “Wait!” Her fingers caught the edge of his cloak.
Chevalier responded to the tone of command in her voice, not because he must, but rather that it surprised him. Only moments ago, she’d been ready to flee the mention of him and now she thought to make demands. She was a strange girl, fascinating in her contradictions. He turned to face her. “What do you want?”
She let go of his cloak. Her hands smoothed her gown as she tilted her head to regard him. Then she gave a slight nod. “Yes. You’re right. When it comes to evaluating the future king, I may be out of my element right now. But I refuse to abandon this task just because some might think I’ll never be capable of fulfilling my role.”
The Belle paused, searching his face for something. Chevalier wasn’t sure what. Surely she knew better than to look to him for some confirmation or approval. He kept his lips pressed tight, resisting the urge to curl up at the corners.
“As the newly appointed Belle, I’d like to formally introduce myself -”
“Unnecessary.”
Her eyes widened slightly at his interruption. “What do you mean?”
Chevalier almost smiled again. “Instead of giving me your name, show me your worth. Show me why you deserve to have me listen to what you say.”
A hint of confusion clouded her brow.
“This is going nowhere.” He poked her just below the collarbone to emphasize the point. A gentle, physical reinforcement as he’d done with his brothers when they were younger. But touching her was different. The contact sent a slight prickling up his arm and down his back, though he showed no visible reaction. Soft to the touch, delicate. He could feel how fragile she was under even that light pressure. And how strong. A creature of spun silk and hidden steel. He pulled his hand back quickly.
“What was that for?”
“For wasting my time.” Chevalier turned and this time kept walking. He didn’t like leaving her alone with Clavis but staying was worse. His own thoughts were a bit disordered as he retreated. He couldn’t say why it pleased him that the Belle had not backed down. That she met his words with defiance and determination.
He didn’t realize as he walked back to the palace that he was smiling again.
Chapter 5: A Beast and His Books
Summary:
The Belle corners Chevalier in his private library, and they find some common ground.
Chapter Text
The next few days sped past in a tense rush of border reports, and even more disturbing merchant records. Chevalier knew Obsidian was dangerous, but he was beginning to think he’d underestimated what they were capable of. Worse, he had only bits of information gleaned from a network of unreliable sources. Nothing he could act on overtly.
Chevalier clenched his jaw, feeling the tightness in his neck and shoulders. When he shut his eyes, pinpricks of colored light danced in the darkness. He needed a moment to himself. Some time to let his thoughts dwell on something other than his frustrating lack of good intel.
He made his way to the library. The smell of leather-bound books and the slight dry feel of dust in the air eased his tension a little. At the back, he pushed open the archive door and entered his own, personal library. Books he’d collected for much of his life, worth more to him than most people.
Once Chevalier was seated with his book in hand, the rest of the world faded away, as if the pages put real distance between him and his worries. The Romance of the Rose was a simple story but a vibrant one. Easy to sink into for a few hours, and let his mind rest.
The door opened but the prince barely noted it. Though he would never admit it, he was thoroughly engrossed in the story. Fascinated by the strong passions of the characters. The emotions that moved them in ways he could only imagine, never having felt such powerful affection himself. It was only when she bumped him that Chevalier looked up.
The Belle looked down at him, her eyes wide, a hint of fear in their depths.
He felt his heart speed at the sight of her. Almost like nervousness, he thought, and scoffed at the idea. Chevalier looked back down at the page. He found himself short of things to say to her. He didn’t want to chase her away, not exactly. Not that he wanted her to stay either, of course.
“I-Is that The Romance of the Rose?” The Belle sounded surprised and a little amused. Her lips were curved up in the slightest smile.
Chevalier felt a sharp tug in the center of his chest as he looked up at her again and noted the smile, the light of interest in her eyes. “You are familiar with it?”
Her smile widened. She looked positively excited as she nodded. “Yes! It’s a romance written by a foreign author. Hard to get your hands on, but so worth it!”
He snorted. “If even a simpleton like you can read it, the story must be fairly trivial.” The insult sprung naturally from his lips but there was no real sting to it.
The Belle’s eyebrows rose a bit but she didn’t lose her grin. “Well, maybe it is but I thought the book went into real depth about love. It was a very interesting read.”
Was she . . . trying to start a conversation with him? About a love story? Chevalier hid his surprise. She was braver than he thought to approach him like this. He cocked his head. “Interesting?”
“Yes!” Her hands fluttered in the air, as if to sketch her ideas as she spoke. “The best part is that scene where they argue about the essence of love. It was just so . . . mmmmm!” She blew a kiss into the air. “Perfect.”
Chevalier snorted. “Absurd.” He knew the scene she meant. He’d picked the argument to pieces and the character motivations besides. “The way the book allegorically expresses emotions is fine, but the act itself - thinking so deeply about love - is foolish.”
He saw her indignant expression and shrugged. “Look, the more deeply you examine love, the less it seems worthwhile.”
The Belle crossed her arms. “That’s not true.”
Warming to his subject now, he raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how are you so sure of that?”
“Well, because love is all around us. Everyone experiences it.”
Chevalier laughed. Love. In real life. It was at worst a manipulation, at best, self delusion. And in all cases, as far as he could see, harmful. “Not everyone is familiar with love. At the very least, to me it’s a worthless and unnecessary emotion.”
He could see too clearly his father’s unhappy face, eyes looking into some distance and never at those nearest him. His mother, with her stern frown, hiding behind a cold veneer of propriety while crying in her rooms each night over her beloved, who had no interest in her affections. Love. All of it. And none of it worth the time or effort.
The Belle looked shocked. Her eyes went wide and for a moment, her hands stilled. Then, in a quieter voice as if she couldn’t quite get her breath, she asked, “So love doesn’t matter to you at all, Prince Chevalier?”
He couldn’t stand the way she was looking at him. Her gaze gentle and hurt and pitying. “Not at all.” He snapped the book shut, suddenly feeling an impatience to be elsewhere. “A king doesn’t need the likes of love.”
She flinched at his harsh words but still defied him. “I don’t think that’s true at all.”
“No?” Chevalier glanced around the room, eyes landing on another favorite. “Have you never read the story of the king who lost himself to love, a path that eventually led to his ruin?” He remembered how like his own father that fictional king felt at times. He would never make such a fool of himself.
“I have,” she nodded.
“And yet you still disagree that love is unnecessary?”
The Belle nodded again, nibbling at her lower lip in a way Chev found . . . distracting. “Yes, I do. Because for every story of a king destroyed by love, there’s another in which love inspires a king to become an exceptional ruler.” She held a hand out to him, as if to beckon him forward. “Something that motivates people to grow - isn’t that the very core of love?”
Chevalier forced his eyes up from her lips, wondering if she was unaware of the effect. He wouldn’t let himself be so easily deterred. “The presence or absence of love has no bearing on one’s political skills. Rather, a king must not harbor any emotion that could bring about chaos and turmoil.”
“But kings are human too. A human being can’t just cut themselves off from an emotion!” She looked so earnest as she said it, so worried.
“If a man cannot do that, he doesn’t have what it takes to be king.” He leaned back, feeling quite satisfied with himself. What would she say to that, he wondered, but she didn’t reply immediately. She studied his face as if searching him for some sign. He didn’t know what but it made him uneasy. “What a pointless conversation.”
Chevalier stood and brushed past the Belle, pretending like her presence was as little to him as the dust motes dancing in the light from the narrow window. He put The Romance of the Rose away and pulled down another book without glancing at the title.
Her eyes followed him. “You know, you seem awfully fond of love stories for someone who sees love as unnecessary.”
“There’s a difference between considering it unnecessary and storing it as knowledge in one’s mind.” He didn’t want to tell her how he’d studied it. Tried to understand the mechanisms of love. The gestures and expressions, the gentle touches and soft words. Despite what he said, he did feel the lack. It was . . . like knowing everyone around you could drink a certain wine and told you all about the flavor, but no matter how hard you tried, there was no taste to it. He wanted to understand it, at least. Even if he never wanted to experience it.
“What do you mean?” The Belle sounded genuinely curious.
Chevalier sat down with a sigh. He’d never tried to explain himself like this before. Certainly not to such a determined inquisitor. “A book is a collection of knowledge and acquiring that knowledge is a way of arming oneself.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Arming oneself? How so?”
“No one is foolish enough to march into battle without a weapon, right? It’s the same concept. I read these books to arm myself for court. And the battlefield. Really, for any type of situation imaginable.”
She smiled, her eyes going wide for a moment as something came clear to her. “So a love story can be a weapon too?”
Chevalier crossed his legs and rested his chin in his hand. “Naturally. Would you play a game of chess without knowing how to move the pieces?”
“Of course not! I would never try to play a game without learning how to play first.”
He suppressed a smile at her earnest answer. “And there you have it. In order to move the pieces known as human beings, you must have a grasp of human nature. Sadness, compassion, love - every emotion has its uses.“
A little frown turned down the corners of her lips. “So to you, emotions are nothing more than tools to influence people?”
This was not quite accurate, but Chevalier was happy to let her misunderstand. “Exactly. In fact, people themselves are tools for my purposes.”
The Belle inhaled sharply, clearly shocked by that answer.
“Well? You look like you have something to say.”
“No, Your Highness. I am just not sure how to respond to that point of view.”
He felt a slight pinch of disappointment that their conversation might end here, like this. He’d been enjoying it, surprisingly. “And you, why do you read? What is your interest in books?”
She considered the question for a moment. “I read because it’s fun. Hasn’t a book ever excited you?”
“Hmm.”
“Did you just scoff at me?” Her brows shot up.
Chevalier didn’t want to answer either question directly. He felt . . . off somehow. Uncomfortable, but in a way he didn’t quite want to let go of. He realized with sudden certainty that he wanted to understand this odd little book loving woman. He wanted to know why she was the way she was. So brash, at turns, and so sincere. “It’s just that your answer is so childish. However, that is just like you. If you had a proper reason for reading, you wouldn’t be a simpleton.” He waited for her reaction eagerly and was not disappointed.
The Belle’s little hands balled into fists, gripping her skirt. “You really enjoy mocking me, don’t you!”
No one else would have answered him that way, with such polite fury. He smirked. “Ah and here I was sure that last bit would go right over your head.” Chevalier watched her struggle to come up with a response proper enough in the presence of a prince but reflective of her anger. He could tell she was really struggling. It might be best to ameliorate her annoyance before she said something he would need to react to. “But I won’t completely dismiss your opinion.”
That shocked her out of her tangle of thought. “You won’t?”
Chevalier leaned back, his expression turning serious. “That’s how values work. Just because two ways of thinking are incompatible doesn’t mean one is right and one is wrong. All we can do is agree to disagree.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Prince Highness, isn’t there a way to compromise instead of just dismissing our differences? Even if we have conflicting values, I think a desire to understand each other is never a bad thing.”
“That is pointless.”
The Belle gave him a triumphant little smile. “Ah, but it’s my duty to learn and understand how all the princes think and based on that, choose the next king. It might be difficult right now and it might happen slowly, but eventually I’d like to meet you halfway Prince Chevalier. ”
Her confidence surprised him. He had underestimated her again, and she knew it. He had no choice but to surrender. Chevalier sighed. “As long as you don’t get in my way, do as you please.”
She bounced on her toes. “Really?”
It was very hard not to smile up at her when she was so clearly caught up in her moment. He narrowed his eyes and opened the play he’d picked up from the shelf as if this was no matter to him at all. “I assume you didn’t come here just to say that.”
“Oh! Right!” She pulled a small paper bag from a pocket on her gown. “Clavis said to give you this. That it was important.”
Clavis. Again. Chevalier frowned at the brown paper sack. “You’re quite daring, aren’t you?” He couldn’t decipher what his brother wanted from this Belle, but it was clear he was using her for some part of his plans.
She looked at the bag in complete naive confusion. “What? Why?”
“Did you bring that here to me without checking what was inside?” He could tell by her wide-eyed look that it was so. “Incredibly foolish.”
“W-why would I look inside? That seems like snooping to me!”
Chevalier snorted and looked down at the book. The Belle was perplexing to the point of annoyance - one moment, clever enough to force him to agreement and the next, so empty headed that she allowed herself to be a royal pawn without even realizing she was being used. At this rate, she wouldn’t last long enough to finish her duties as Belle. For some reason, that made his gut feel heavy.
He rubbed his chest surreptitiously, trying to ignore his unease. It wasn’t as if Sariel couldn’t find another. Of course, that could cause delay. Drama. He really ought to make sure nothing happened to this one, for his own sake. Clearly she couldn’t watch out for herself so he had no choice, really.
The Belle was completely oblivious to his internal musing. She’d finally opened the sack and pulled out the book inside. “What even is this?”
“Most likely? A book of vulgar pictures.” He had to admit, the expression on her face was amusing. A mix of earnest disgust, a trace of naughty curiosity, and full helping of confusion. She was such an expressive creature.
“But . . . why?” She stared hard at the cover picture. “Clavis said it was important.”
Chevalier shrugged. “I never thought anyone would be simple enough to take that man at his word.”
Her mouth opened in realization and then closed to a thin, firm, angry line. “I am truly, really very sorry.”
The beast in him rose at this inviting tidbit and he felt himself smile. “Instead of apologizing, why don’t you tell me how you plan to make up for wasting my time?” It was unkind to use Clavis’ joke to further his own goals, but Chevalier had never bothered himself with worrying about kindness. The important thing was the result, and this got him the result he desired.
He told himself he wanted to teach her a valuable lesson. And that was part of it, but beneath that, in a place just beginning to thaw, there was another reason. One he couldn’t admit or even begin to acknowledge. Whether he knew it or not, the smallest crack had already formed and it was the prince himself prying it further open.
Chapter 6: A Good Morning
Summary:
The Belle is sent in to wake a tiger. Her mission does not go as planned.
Chapter Text
Chevalier found his mind returning to that afternoon in the library. The way the Belle’s face betrayed every motion of her heart when she spoke. She was proving to be quite interesting. Moreso than he expected. Distracting as well, he thought, as he read through the trade route missive again. He would need to double the forces protecting the road to Jade. That was where his mind should be.
The trade route reports only reminded him of her brash promise. To bring him a book he had not read, one from a foreign market. She looked so determined when she made that pledge. He half expected she would manage it, though the whole idea was quite silly. Just as she was.
He read and wrote until his eyes were too tired to track the words on the page. Sleep was a great waste of time, but indispensable as well. As a child, he’d tried to go without sleeping at all. Refusing naps and bedtime with obstinacy. But he realized very quickly that without rest, his thoughts became disordered and fuzzy. His reactions slowed. Unacceptable.
Frustrated, he set aside his work. Rest could not be avoided any longer. So he stripped down to a night shirt and laid his sword on the pillow beside him. Then he made himself shut his eyes and be still until he felt shallow sleep settle in.
Sunlight poured through the window, bright and golden and warm. Chevalier woke to the sound of his door opening slowly. The prince curled his fingers into a fist. Another assassination attempt? His body tensed and his ears strained.
Light footsteps crept through his room. Small slippered feet moving with exaggerated care.
He knew what had wandered into his private sanctum now. Not an assassin. Only a fool. A lovely, ridiculous creature with wide eyes and a gentle smile. Chevalier kept still, his eyes shut.
She crept right up to the edge of the bed. “Good morning Prince Chevalier!”
His breath was steady and he didn’t so much as twitch. Was she really here to wake him? This had the stink of Clavis all over it. Playing his little games. His brother likely expected Chevalier to scare her again, thus setting up an inevitable conflict when the Belle picked a friendlier prince for the throne. So instead, he decided to play the deep sleeper. To ignore the girl until she scurried back out of his room.
“Ummm . . . wakey wakey? Eggs and Bakey?” Her voice quavered a bit with uncertainty as if the Belle only just realized she was poking a tiger.
Surely she would leave now.
“Prince Chevalier!”
Her shout could have raised the dead. “Be quiet,” he grumbled. He shifted enough to glare at her from the nest of his blankets. “If you make any more noise . . . you will regret it.” His voice was rough from sleep, his mouth dry, words slowed.
The Belle blushed, her lips parting to let out a surprised little breath. “I-”
Chevalier tugged the blanket over his head. He didn’t need to see her with that expression, not first thing in the morning.
She cleared her throat delicately.
“Why . . .” He croaked, frustration bleeding into that one word.
“Hm?”
Chevalier tried again. “Why did you come . . . to wake me up?” As if he didn’t know. As if he needed an answer. He could hear her smile as she replied.
“Well, starting today I’m going to be taking my meals with the princes. And you weren’t there this morning at the round table with the others.”
“So . . . Clavis . . . told you to come here?” Her silence was all the agreement he needed. “You shouldn’t . . . have. Get. Out.”
The Belle took a deep breath, steeling herself to disagree with him. “But you can’t skip breakfast! It isn’t good for y- oh!”
He didn’t give her time to finish her inane response. Chevalier reached out and grabbed her arm. She didn’t have a chance to resist as he pulled her into the bed and right up against his chest. The Belle was as soft and sweet in his arms as he’d thought she might be.
“What are you doing,” she gasped, when she’d found her words again. It had taken her a moment, he thought smugly. As well it should.
“I told you to get out. You disobeyed. So now I will silence you myself.” He’d meant to sound as cold as he always did. Separated from humanity by the icy walls of his logic and precision. But sleep (he blamed it on that solely) made his voice a warm burr, almost gentle. He could feel the little tremor that ran through her as his breath tickled her ear.
Her lips parted as if she might say something else. Another protest.
He didn’t want her to say a word. Nor did he want to let go. He lifted a finger to her lips in order to shush her. They were like satin. Warm and yielding. He traced them with his fingertip. Would they feel the same pressed against his mouth, he wondered idly.
The Belle’s face was flushed from his touch, her eyes so wide. “I’m . . . really sorry,” she whispered, “But . . . I’m not backing down about breakfast.”
He suppressed a smile. Any other woman would have used this situation to her benefit. She could have seduced him or cried out for help and caused a scandal. But she wanted him to have breakfast with her. “Why?”
“Because I’m worried it will affect your health.”
Was she serious? “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She looked at him so earnestly it hurt. “Prince Chevalier, you don’t skip breakfast every day, do you?”
He looked up at the ceiling, wondering in what mad world he’d ended up in bed with a beautiful woman who insisted on not only waking him but nagging him about his eating habits. Somehow, he doubted even Clavis could have predicted this turn of events.
“You might be a prince, but if you don’t have regular meals, eventually you’ll -”
Chevalier pressed his thumb against her lips. But they were parted and instead of simply hushing her, the pad of his thumb scraped the edge of her teeth. He could feel the tip of her tongue, warm and silky graze his skin. It sent an unexpected heat through him. He was not inexperienced with women, only disinterested. Except . . . this, he was certain, qualified as interest. It felt odd. Like being hungry or thirsty. He explored the feeling with curiosity, analyzing it rather than giving in.
The Belle pulled her head back, blinking at him in surprise.
He gave her a thin smile. “If you are going to be so stubborn about it, you may bring my breakfast to my room. Later.”
“What? Really?”
The prince shut his eyes, blocking out her face. Her questions. Trying, without success, to block the sensations she stirred in him. He did not need this, especially now, with the throne unsecured.
She didn’t pull away from him right away. He could feel her eyes on him. The hammering of her heart. The shift of the blankets as she moved her hand to touch her mouth. Then she scrambled from the bed and stood, still watching him.
Chevalier wondered what she was thinking. She hadn’t looked afraid. Or angry. He was tempted to open his eyes so that he could catch her expression. But then she would know he wasn’t asleep. She’d have more to say about meal time or some other nonsense.
The Belle sighed and then left without another word.
It took a little while for him to find sleep again. His mind kept returning to her warmth and the sensation of her lips against his skin.
Chapter 7: A Word of Advice
Summary:
An upcoming ball prompts the Belle to seek Chevalier out. Her question takes him by surprise, but his willingness to answer surprises her even more.
Chapter Text
There was never enough time, Chevalier thought. His patience was thin. This past week, he’d barely managed a handful of hours with his books. Rhodolite’s border reports and missives from the nobility kept him occupied and more than a little frustrated. He could clearly see the connections between information and from that, predict likely outcomes. Why was it so hard for others to accept and follow?
Prince Leon’s faction and their noble adherents fought him at every turn, and even his own coalition was fractious. It was enough to put anyone in a sour mood. And somehow despite the looming threats on the border and the death of the king, Sariel insisted the palace must still hold this season’s ball. As if everything were normal and there was nothing to worry about. As if no one would notice the presence of the Belle and the princes’ tension.
Worse, Chevalier knew he would be forced to make an appearance. Another wasted evening trying to organize a herd of nobles that were only there to seek status and personal gain. He took a breath. There was no purpose to dwelling on the unavoidable. What he needed right now was a few precious minutes to himself and a good book. It would ease his mind and then he’d be able to focus on the things that mattered.
The library was usually empty at this time of day, but the moment he stepped through the door, someone called his name. Chevalier glanced over at the Belle.
She was balanced precariously on a shelf ladder. Her full skirts and thin palace slippers were not ideal for any practical use, much less this one. The way she was turned to wave at him only hastened the inevitable.
Chevalier considered catching her but with the distance between them, he was unlikely to reach her in time. Besides, the fall wasn’t far enough to cause real injury and a little bruise might remind her to be more careful next time.
As expected, she lost her balance, arms flailing as she fell backwards onto the floor. Emma let out a pained yelp at the impact.
“That was clumsy of you,” Chevalier observed as he made his way toward her. He evaluated her situation at a glance. It appeared the only injury she’d taken was to her pride.
She lay there looking up at him with a pained expression. “Welp. This is awkward.”
“Indeed. And you need to move.” He cocked his head toward the shelf she was blocking.
Emma glared at him, going from embarrassment to annoyance more quickly than expected. She stood up and straightened her skirts with a huff.
Chevalier pretended to ignore her as he pulled a book from the shelf. Her expressions were too precious to really ignore. The high color in her cheeks, the dainty twist of disapproval to her lips . . . the memory of their softness against his thumb made his heart beat a little faster. Who would ever have guessed that he might enjoy the presence of such a silly little fool?
She was watching him intently as he perused his choice but Chev didn’t favor her with even a glance. He realized before she opened her mouth to speak why she was staring. The palace ball. Of course. He should have anticipated this outcome. His mind quickly cataloged the possible consequences of each answer he might give to the question she had not asked yet.
The Belle’s fingers gripped her skirt tightly. “Prince Chevalier? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Chevalier kept his eyes on the page. He’d read this one before, maybe twice? But the story held up.
“It’s about the ball that’s happening soon -” She swallowed audibly.
“No.”
Emma twisted the fabric of her skirt as if strangling it. “What? But you didn’t even let me finish! You don’t know what you’re saying no to.”
Chev’s eyebrow twitched up, wondering what game the girl thought she was playing. “You are looking for someone to be your escort, aren’t you?” He sighed. “You shouldn’t be asking me, simpleton.”
“Right. I know that.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “But I was hoping you could tell me who you think would be the best choice to escort me. I want your advice.”
“What? Why would you bother me with something so trivial?” He managed to cover his surprise with irritation. This was not a tactic he’d expected from her.
Emma’s smile widened. “I’m not expecting something for nothing. If there’s anything I can do for you in exchange for your recommendation, I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”
Chevalier felt something well up in his chest. A strong urge to turn and grab her and shake her. What little fool would make such an offer to a beast? Did she not have any idea what could be asked? What might be taken? He told himself that what he felt was only frustration with her idiocy. Only that.
He’d intended to point out her folly as looked up. “What could you possibly -” Then it hit him. A small smile turned his lips upward. “Actually, I have changed my mind.”
She looked at the floor, brows drawn together in confusion. “What?”
“If all you’re doing is asking, then go ahead. Ask.” He let his full attention fall on her. Chev could see the wheels of her mind turning as she grappled with his sudden change in demeanor. He used the book in his hand to tilt her chin up so that her eyes met his. “Ask. However, choose your words carefully. I’ve lost my patience over less, and you wouldn’t want that. Would you?”
The Belle swallowed nervously but didn’t drop her gaze. “I don’t take kindly to threats. That’s taking it too far.”
Chevalier chuckled and released her chin. This was the woman that grabbed his attention in the city street - that exact expression. “So brazen, aren’t we?” He sat down in a nearby chair. “Well?”
She smoothed her skirt before speaking, clearly trying to organize her thoughts. “Right now, the person I’m thinking of asking to be my escort is . . .”
He listened to her with half an ear, which was all her question really required. Chevalier found the rest of his attention focused on her unconscious motion. Tucking a hair behind her ear. Licking her lips in a momentary pause. The way her chest rose when she took a deep breath. Her lashes against her cheek when she looked down in thought.
What made her so lovely, he thought, was the naivete of these motions. There was no artifice, no manufactured flirtation. The Belle wasn’t seeking his attention - she simply held it naturally. And she was completely unaware. Chevalier could not help but imagine what she might do if he pulled her onto his lap.
“So? What do you think?”
He quirked a brow. “So Black and the clown are your most promising candidates. Both are passable but they are foolish and lack follow-through.”
She shrugged. “Both have a lot of connections so I thought they would qualify for the job.”
Chevalier snorted. “It’s true, the clown is the most social of us all but even you can imagine what it would be like. He has trouble when it comes to women.” He smiled coldly. “If you’re prepared to be backstabbed, I suppose he would be an amusing choice.”
The Belle shook her head, her lips turned in a worried frown.
The prince continued. “Then there’s Black. He would be biased in his information.” He felt a twinge of discomfort imagining her on Leon’s arm. Certainly that was only because the 4th prince wouldn’t be a good choice. No other reason. “As leader of his faction, he’s unpopular with the nobles on my side.”
“Alright, so who does that leave?”
Chevalier tapped a fingertip on the table as if counting out the remaining candidates. “There’s the mime and jumbo. Out of the question. Neither of them have attended a ball before. And then there’s the show-off but his lineage is a problem. I doubt those nobles who treat him as a tumor would offer you any worthwhile information.”
The Belle nodded along, taking only a moment to understand which prince Chev meant. He appreciated how quickly she could follow along when she was paying attention.
“After taking all that into consideration, I believe Number One or Clavis would be the most appropriate choice.” He leaned forward, interested in what she would decide. “Do you want to be trifled with by a natural born womanizer or manipulated by a man who loves trouble far too much for his own good? The choice is yours.”
She laughed. “Is that really the choice I have?”
Chev gently poked her forehead. “If you don’t even know this much, what have you been doing as Belle all this time?”
Her cheeks flushed with heat and she glanced down. “I . . . don’t have an answer for that.”
Looking at her with that expression on her face shifted something in his chest. Chevalier stood suddenly and closed the distance between them. He took her hand, letting his calloused thumb stroke her soft fingertips. They were red and probably sore from all her notetaking. She was working so hard toward her goal, but without focus and direction.
“H-hey!” Emma tried to pull her hand back but he didn’t let go.
Chevalier leaned close, his nose almost brushing hers. “No matter how much effort you put in, it’s pointless if you don’t get results.” His boot brushed her palace slippers. “And if you don’t get results, you’ll be perpetually useless.”
He couldn’t say why that bothered him. It shouldn’t matter if she succeeded or failed as Belle. Chev knew he would be the next king. Yet . . . he wanted her of her own accord, to choose him. And to come to that decision honestly.
The Belle’s wide eyes met his cold gaze. “Y-yes . . . results are important. You’re right.” Her voice was steady but quiet, low and breathy. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled. “Thank you for the advice Prince Chevalier.”
That sweet smile hit Chevalier hard. It lit up her face and made her so enticing. His pulse sped, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment. Then he felt an answering grin lift the corners of his mouth. “That’s very admirable of you, thanking me for tormenting you.”
“Of course I’d thank you,” she squeezed his fingers. “You have been a big help.”
The feelings uncoiling in his chest were strange. An uncomfortably warmth. Chevalier released her hand and moved away. He felt he should say something to remind her that she would owe him for this, but instead he simply walked away.
Chapter 8: Through Her Eyes
Summary:
Chevalier holds court at a ball. The Belle disapproves of him, and shows her steel again.
Chapter Text
Chevalier surveyed the crowd with a discerning eye. It was easy to dismiss these parties as a waste of time, but he knew better. This ballroom was a battlefield where fights were won with a cutting remark or a cold glance. Alliances hid behind studied avoidance and subtle nods. Weapons here were style and wit.
This was not the province of the brutal beast, but he learned to wield his intelligence and arrogance as well as a sword and shield. He stood on his own metaphorical hilltop like a victorious general, letting the crowd perceive his disdain. It made them hate him. It made them fear him. But that, Chevalier knew, was power as well.
His eyes found Leon, surrounded as always by a cloud of sycophants. It wasn’t a fair assessment, perhaps. His brother brought out true loyalty in his followers, but Chev wondered how far that would take him in the face of threat and violence. He did not think any of those nobles could accept the hard choices a king must make and Leon . . .
The Belle entered on Clavis’ arm. Her dress was white with silver trim, tight through the bodice and flared through the hips. Though the gown was sleeveless, she wore gloves that came up just past her elbow, and a single pendant necklace on a thin silver chain. The teardrop diamond hung just below the delicate hollow of her throat, leaving the expanse of bare skin below it looking all the more naked to his eyes.
Beautiful.
Chevalier looked away from her as if he hadn’t even noticed she came in.
A noble approached him a moment later, but his petty maneuvering did little to distract Chev from the Belle’s presence. He saw Flandre approach her. Clavis, smiling. Was this part of his brother’s game?
“So I was thinking, Highness, if you put in a good word?” The noble smiled hopefully.
“Don’t waste my time with your petty goals.” He let his full attention settle on the man for a moment, well aware of the effect his icy gaze had on weak souls.
The man bowed low. “Y-yes, of course. Highness. I’m sorry. Very sorry.” He backed away.
Chev’s eyes found the Belle just in time to see Clavis lean close and whisper something in her ear as Flandre walked away from the two of them. Heat rose in her cheeks as she nodded agreement to whatever was said. Her expression was focused, intent.
“Highness, if I may?”
A matronly noblewoman stood just to his left, eyes cast demurely down.
“What?”
“Allow me to be brief - “ and to his surprise, she was. She succinctly described the impact of a new Jadeite tariff, something that had crossed Chevalier’s desk a few weeks ago.
He gave a curt nod. “I am aware. And I will include this information in our negotiations.”
“Thank you.” She gave an appropriate curtsy and left.
Chevalier wished all the nobility he dealt with were so efficient. Though he did not intend to, his eyes returned to the Belle. Something Clavis said caused an expression of shock to ripple across her features. Every muscle in her tensed as if she were about to bolt. But Chev knew she wouldn’t. The Belle was a stubborn girl. His lips curved up in a brief smile, gone almost as soon as it arrived.
Then Clavis motioned in his general direction and she turned to look at him. Her gaze flitted between Chevalier and Leon, studying them with the same intense look she wore when reading. She was evaluating him, comparing him. Part of Chev hated the idea that he needed to prove himself to this slip of a commoner - as if her ignorance was some sort of mystical strength. But part of him was impressed with how seriously she took her role. Her determination to learn all she could of the princes so that her choice was the best it could be. It was pre-
Clavis took her hand and began dragging her through the center of the ballroom, gathering stares from curious nobility. What was that idiot playing at, Chevalier wondered. The two of them stopped at the fringe of Leon’s circle, close enough to listen in.
“Highness?”
Chevalier glanced at the next petitioner.
“N-never mind. Highness.” They practically ran.
The Belle looked pleased with what she heard from Leon’s faction. Her eyes crinkled at the edges and some of the tension left her jaw. Chev wasn’t surprised. Black was . . . friendly. Kind. He cultivated love in his followers. It was an approach Chevalier understood - but one he would never pursue. Love was fickle. He knew that from his - his books.
Such loyalty as love brought only lasted while things were easy,comfortable. He had no use for it. Fear lasted longer and it was more reliable.
“If you have a moment, Highness?” The nobleman now in his vicinity wasn’t slouching. He held his head up, deferential but not too much so. He was clearly confident.
Chevalier inclined his head.
“Excellent. I wanted to request additional troops along the border. My properties . . .” He went on, giving a concise but detailed report of the condition of his border properties and the continued issues with Obsidianite raiding.
The second prince was already well versed in the problems he described. In fact, he’d ordered several improvements already. “Have the border security structural changes been completed?”
“No, Highness. You see, we’ve encountered difficulty deploying construction personnel. Finding those with adequate skill and a willingness to work in dangerous conditions.”
“If you can’t fill the worker shortage from your own domain, petition other lords for assistance. I am sure you will have a favorable report for me next time we meet. And then I will consider your . . . request.” Chevalier let his disdain drip from every word. It was frustrating how easily these nobles gave up on tasks that cost them their own time and effort. How quickly they would come begging for favors without satisfying even the minimum of their duties.
The nobleman bowed. “Yes. Of course, Highness. I am very sorry.”
Chevalier looked past him to the next approaching noble. “Next.” As the man approached, Chev saw the Belle had as well. At this distance, he could see the light color on her lips, the slight shadowing on her eyelids, the flutter of her lashes. Emotions played out in the depths of her gaze. Anxiety and determination in equal measure. And yet she came forward with her back straight and her head held high. As if she belonged right where she was.
He listened to the noble report out with half an ear, adding what little information of import there was to his mental catalog. Chev waved that one away and allowed the next to come forward. He realized about halfway through the third petitioner what he was doing. Trying to look good before the Belle. To seem more approachable. To make sure she noticed how busy, how efficient he was.
Ridiculous.
As if the Belle’s opinion would matter in the end. But. But it would be so much easier if she named him king. He wouldn’t need to kill Leon and Sariel. And he wanted her to choose him because . . . no - Chevalier cut off that line of thought with brutal quickness. This was not one of his books. This was Rhodolite and he must remain focused on his kingdom above all else.
Clavis leaned close to Belle, whispering in her ear again. Chev wished he could hear what was said. Whatever it was, she nodded agreement. Then she said something that made Clavis draw back, eyes wide with surprise. Then, after a hurried conversation between them, his brother began to laugh. Like a braying donkey, Chevalier thought.
Everyone was staring at them now, with the way Clavis nearly bent in two with laughter. Chev did his best to ignore it. He had plenty of practice. It would have worked, had Clavis not clapped loudly and then announced in his high, clear voice, “Hey Chev! Your charming brother has brought you a sweet young lady!”
It was moments like these that made him want to murder Clavis. Chevalier glared at them as his brother dragged the Belle forward. “I don’t recall asking you to do that.”
The Belle shivered, her skin prickling.
If Chev was being honest with himself, which he wasn’t, the sight made him want to brush his fingers along her collarbone and lay kiss to the spot beneath her pendant. To feel and touch those tiny little dimples that broke out across her skin at his tone. These thoughts lurked in the back of his mind, hidden under the layers of propriety and fratricidal ideations.
Clavis chuckled, perfectly aware of the fine line he walked with Chevalier. “Aw come on! Don’t say that! This lovely young lady wanted to have a chat with you.”
“Prince Clavis! I did NOT say -”
Of course he didn’t let her finish. Clavis shushed her with a finger to her lips. “Now now, don’t be shy! Weren’t you just saying how lonely you thought Chev looked?”
The sudden flash of heat in her face was evidence enough that Clavis was not lying, about this, at least.
Chevalier raised an eyebrow. Lonely? He? “What a nauseating reason for bothering me.” Did he seem lonely to her? It was a more astute observation than he expected, and that in turn made him uncomfortable.
“This sweet young woman said she wanted to relieve you of your solitude.” Clavis winked. “I think you should take her up on her kind offer.”
“No thank you.” Chev saw the way his words hit the Belle. The slight fall in her shoulders. The brief closure of her eyes, followed by a deep breath.
Clavis saw it too, of course. And he grinned in a way Chev knew meant trouble. “I just remembered! I have something I must go do. Well, it looks like I must leave Emma in your capable hands.” And then he walked off without a look back.
The Belle would have needed to run to catch up to him. “Prince Clavis! Are you serious? W-wait!”
Of course Clavis didn’t slow or turn. “Good luck!” He waved before disappearing through one of the side doors.
Chevalier felt his jaw tighten. He’d picked Clavis for the Belle because he’d expected his brother to stay by her side. For the entertainment value of watching the the girl react, if nothing else. It seemed he was wrong. A rare enough occurrence. He should have pushed her to Nokto. A lecher, perhaps, but a reliable one.
In a voice more confident than her expression, the Belle asked, “Is it alright if I stay beside you until Prince Clavis returns, Highness?”
He looked at her and gave a nod. “As long as you don’t get in the way.” Her relieved smile took him by surprise. What sort of ridiculous girl would look so happy at such a curt acceptance? She was - she was -
Chev grabbed her hand as he noted the approach of yet another obsequious noble. He only realized halfway through pulling her behind him that he was probably holding her hand too tightly but at least it was done and just in time.
“Prince Chevalier, may I have a moment of your time?” Marquis Blois bent his head just enough to be proper. He carried himself like a man well aware of how far his wealth and power reached.
Today there was something new in his calculating gaze and it took Chev a moment to understand. Only a moment though. This was a plot few were brave enough to try with him.
“Today is my daughter’s debut. I’d like to introduce her to you.” He gestured to a girl that stood several lengths away. She was very young for a debut, or she seemed so to Chevalier. Barely past playing with dolls. Her expression was one of wooden terror.
She stepped forward obediently, if a little unsteadily as well. Her curtsy was acceptable though lacking for someone that would have been trained in social graces from the moment she could walk. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Chevalier. My name is-”
Chevalier waved her off. “I don’t need your name. I have no interest in those that are useless.” He knew the harshness of his cold, flat voice would have a longer reach than any kinder rejection might have. The tears gathering in her eyes would serve as warning to every noble out there with a daughter of marrying age.
When he married it would be for the good of Rhodolite. An advantageous union that would bind the kingdom to its allies. He’d known that was his fate since he was in diapers. Princes married for duty. Why, now, did that make his throat feel tight and hot?
The girl paled and shrunk back from him as if slapped, while her father gave a sickly smile. He was not yet cowed. “If I may be sol bold, Highness, my daughter has a deep knowledge of music. I am sure she could entertain you with -”
Chevalier raised an imperious brow. “If you want to demonstrate her worth, tell me what she can do for this kingdom. Not what she can do for me.”
“I . . .” The Marquis struggled to come up with an answer, not that Chev gave him much time.
“If you’re unable to answer, then I have no business with you. You may go.” His dismissal was curt, barely within the realm of acceptable court behavior. But who would dare scold him?
“M-my apologies, Your Highness.” Marquis Blois sagged in his finery, his brief ambition thoroughly quashed.
Chevalier didn’t deign to look at him. He was turning to look back at the Belle when he heard her take a deep breath.
“Prince Chevalier, is it alright if I introduce myself to the marquis and his daughter?”
She didn’t look timid now, not in the slightest. The Belle looked regal. Demure and elegant. Her head held high, her shoulders back, a slight smile on her lips.
Chev could see something was bothering her in the way she held her skirts, a bit too tightly, and the firmness of her gaze. Interesting that the Marquis and his daughter would bring this out of her. He was curious where she was going with this. “Do what you like.”
The Belle bowed her head demurely. “Thank you, Your Highness.” Then she looked up, a smile on her lips, though it did not reach her eyes. “It is very nice to meet you. My name is Emma, the eldest daughter of Lord Nicola.”
Marquis Blois and his daughter looked confused and unsure what to say. Dismissed by the prince and yet unable to withdraw. The marquis had no similar experience to draw from and his daughter had no experience at all.
“I overheard just now that you have a deep knowledge of music,” the Belle went on as if oblivious to their uncertainty. “Do you enjoy playing any instruments?”
While her father still looked nervous, this comment brought a wide, genuine smile to his daughter’s lips. “Oh! Yes, I’ve had many opportunities to put my knowledge to practical use. Sometimes I play with the orchestra in town.”
“That’s wonderful! I’m not a performer myself but I do love music -”
Chevalier watched the exchange, noting the warmth that grew between the two ladies. This, he decided, was the Belle’s goal. She wanted to ease them, despite his own curt dismissal. It annoyed him but not enough to intervene or walk away.
“I think a talent that can make so many people smile is one that is worthwhile, something you can be understandably proud of,” the Belle’s words seemed pointed at Chev rather than the girl now, and he took notice.
The marquis did as well, and he tensed a bit as his daughter made a sound of surprise.
The Belle went on, “I am sure the people who listen to your music would say the same.” And then, as if to provoke him, she turned to Chevalier, “And what about you, Your Highness?”
He studied her face. Though she spoke lightly, he could see steel in her gaze, just as he had when she faced him down in the street. In moments like these - Chevalier’s lips curved in smile. “Yes, I’m sure she does have worthwhile talent. More than a certain simpleton I could mention.” He shifted his gaze to the marquis. “Though it may be worthless to me, the same is not true for others. If you wish to present your daughter, you should do so to someone who will recognize her value. A marquis in the neutral faction, for example. ”
Marquis Blois blinked. “Ah, Lord Keith? Yes . . . if I’m not mistaken, he’s working to further development of arts and culture.”
Chevalier gestured. “He’s over there. Mention my name when you introduce yourselves, if necessary.”
“May I, Your Highness?” The marquis sounded surprised.
“Yes.” Chevalier’s smile fell. “If you’re able to win the marquis to our faction, that will have value to me as well.”
Marquis Blois and his daughter looked pleased with this redirection. He nodded, squaring his shoulders. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.”
Interesting. Chevalier wouldn’t normally have wasted the time, but this outcome was better than simply removing the annoyance. He glanced at the Belle again, only to find her wavering. She looked as if she might pass out. Chev reached for her, settling a hand at her hip to support her.
“Thank you.” She gave him a gentle smile.
Only she would be silly enough to smile at him like that. She was like a thorn that had worked its way under his skin, finding a soft spot or perhaps, making one. Had she been anyone else, he would have let her fall without a second thought. “You’re quite graceless. I can see that your legs are shaking.”
“Ah! No. It - it’s just your imagination, Your Highness.” She tried to straighten up and pull herself from his grasp but he didn’t let her go.
“Why did you interfere?” Chev felt fairly certain that he knew but he wanted to hear her explain it. He bent his head closer, watching her reaction. Her cheeks heated again and he could almost hear her heartbeat. She didn’t seem afraid now. She seemed . . .
“I - uhm - honestly, I am not sure.”
“Are you joking?” Chevalier could not help the way his eyes fell to her lips, remembering how soft they felt against his fingertips. The warm, light scent she left on his sheets. Would she smell the same now, if he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder? He found himself leaning even in as if she drew him forward.
Unaware of the turn of his thoughts, she shook her head. “No. I just - my heart led me and I acted before my thoughts could catch up.” The Belle sighed. “I couldn’t just leave it be.”
Her words brought his full attention back to the subject. “Let what be?”
“Well . . .”
Chevalier sighed. He should have expected that she wouldn’t be able to verbalize her thought process. “Even children can put their thoughts into words. Unlike you.” He added the last bit as a challenge, knowing it would needle her.
Her eyes went wide, fury sparking in their depths. “Did you just compare me to a child?”
He felt his lips tug up at the corners. “Isn’t that preferable to an indecisive fool who can’t say anything at all?” Chev could see her mulling that over and coming to the conclusion he knew she would. This seemed to hearten her, enough so that she didn’t need his support. And he should draw away from her. Staying so close would create rumor, and danger for her as well.
Chevalier let go, if reluctantly, and took a step back from her.
“Your Highness, why didn’t you just introduce that girl to someone else right from the beginning?”
He shrugged. “They were the ones who ended the conversation. If the marquis wanted such instruction from me, he could have asked for it. Or made the same point as you did himself.”
The Belle looked surprised. “What?”
“This is what happens when I speak with nobles. They frighten too easily and stop talking.” Chevalier gave a low laugh. “I suspect they see me only as a beast of prey. And they are not wrong.”
The way she looked at him, Chev knew she was debating her words.And when she spoke, she said them softly, but with the same determination she’d had when she interrupted earlier. “Aren’t you being a little mean?”
“Oh?” He grinned. “Insulting royalty must mean you’ve become foolishly brave.”
She reached to fiddle with the pendant at her neck, nervous now. “I - no! I am just speaking my thoughts. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
Chevalier found it adorable how she could get so easily entangled in her own emotions. It made her so easy to tease. But he didn’t want to unsettle her too much, a thought that surprised him. He poked her forehead, bringing her attention back to the moment. “If you wish to redeem yourself after this, I suggest you give me a better explanation.”
Just as she was about to respond, the orchestra began to play and couples assembled in the open center of the floor. “The dance is starting, isn’t it?”
“If you look around you, you’d have the answer.”
She nodded absently, her eyes fixed on the spectacle.
Chev had been attending these kind of balls since he was out of diapers. They were a means to an end, a trial to be endured, a necessity of position. But tonight, watching her as she watched the dance begin, he got to see for a moment the beauty of it. Experiencing it as she did. For a breath, all the expense and time fell away to become a garden of shifting colors and graceful motion. He wanted to take her hand and lead her into it. To hold her against him as they stepped and turned and spun . . .
And then he came back to himself, remembering who he was and what that meant. It wasn’t fair to keep her here, trapped beside him and unable to join in. “A woman who doesn’t get asked to dance is a wallflower. I hope there is someone here that found you worth their time.”
“What?” She turned a look at him, startled from her reverie.
Chevalier gave a scornful laugh and turned to walk away. No one would approach her with him so near.
“W-wait! Where are you going?”
“I have no interest in these pointless social interactions. Besides,” he added, feeling the need to clarify, “I don’t think anyone would be brave enough to approach you with me beside you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. Why had he felt a need to explain it to her? So what if she felt hurt by his abrupt departure?
Chevalier left, determined to bury himself in a book until sleep found him. He would not - under any circumstance - imagine the Belle dancing with someone else. She could dance with who she liked. She was a fool. Beautiful. A simpleton. Precious. Unimportant. Adorable. He didn’t care.
Chapter 9: Under His Skin
Summary:
Chevalier finds himself with an unexpected craving, and despite his reservations, gives in.
Chapter Text
Chevalier was lost in thought as he made his way back to his room. He almost didn’t see the Clown until he’d passed him.
“King Highness?” Nokto’s surprised voice pulled Chev out of his thoughts.
He stopped and turned to look at his younger sibling. As expected on a night like this, the Clown had his arm wrapped around a tender morsel. Some young, naive noblewoman too fresh at court to understand the danger of dancing with beasts. Her expression flitted between nervousness and a smug satisfaction at having caught the attention of a prince.
“The ball isn’t over yet, right?” Nokto raised an eyebrow.
Statement of obvious fact always annoyed Chevalier but tonight, he didn’t care. One shoulder rose in a stiff half-shrug. “My business there is finished. But you appear to just be getting started?”
The Clown grinned. “That’s right. I’m off to enjoy the piece de resistance.” He squeezed the woman tighter against him, his fingers playing along her side in carnal promise. “Aren’t you taking a tasty morsel back with you tonight, King Highness?”
While Chev had never matched Nokto’s appetite, he occasionally allowed one fool girl or another to accompany him. He promised them nothing though they hoped to use the connection to gain status for themselves. They were always disappointed. He would devour them whole if they were foolish enough to offer themselves, and then he was done with them.
Several women approached him at the ball but not one sparked his interest. When he considered, only one woman came to mind and - no. Chevalier shut the thought down. After a beat of silence, he shook his head. “There was nothing worth working up an appetite for.”
“Really?” Nokto looked, if anything, even more surprised. “But there’s been a lot of talk about you-know-who. I thought, well . . . it doesn’t matter.” He grinned and turned to the woman beside him, nuzzling her neck. “Sorry to keep you waiting my dear. Shall we head to my room?”
The woman made some sort of reply, half-sighed as if she couldn’t speak with Nokto’s lips against her throat. It must have been in the affirmative as Nokto guided her down the hall.
He stuck one hand in the air and in a muffled voice bid Chevalier good night.
Chevalier could not imagine the Belle in such a position. Or rather, he could. And it made him uncomfortable. A nervous, disquieting feeling that was completely at odd with his usual icy calm. He quashed the stream of accompanying thoughts. The simpleton was with Clavis and despite his brother’s many flaws, he was a gentleman. There was no need to dwell on her further.
Once in his room, he sprawled on the couch. Dawn was still hours away and he wasn’t in the mood to sleep. He still felt out of sorts. Irritated. He reached for a book to distract himself. The romance was a ridiculous one. Lovers across the borders of two countries at war. The battle scenes were unrealistic in the extreme, but the enemies to lovers tale held his attention. He read until the sky outside his window lightened and the stars disappeared.
Then, tired in a way that could not be denied, he slipped into bed for the few hours he would manage before the day’s responsibilities called him. Sleep came, and with it, dreams. Chevalier always had such intense dreams that they sometimes rivaled reality. Only, he knew even as he dreamed them what they were.
This morning his mind threw up an amalgam of the the last book he’d read and the night’s events. The Belle played a starring role, and Clavis arrived as the leering antagonist. An amusing turn of events, considering that Clavis would likely love to hear he featured in such a way.
In the dream, Chevalier need not exhibit even the slightest hesitance. There were no consequences for conquering the Belle. He indulged in the remembered softness of her lips and the imagined feel of her pressed tight against him.
When he woke a few hours later to his brother’s blathering, he felt even more annoyance than usual. He dressed and ate quickly. Clavis provided him with a running tally of the day’s work as they walked to the office. It was the usual reports, letters to be sent, orders to sign.
“I organized the documents by topic so it should move quickly,” Clavis added. He was wearing that stupid smile of his, but Chev could always see through it.
“That is why I allow you to touch them.” Chevalier frowned as he sat down at his desk. There was something off today. He felt it, like an itch. The office was the same as always. The document folios looked the way he expected them to. There were no odd smells or sounds, and yet . . . something was missing.
It was frustrating not to be able to pinpoint the problem, but he decided everything would become clear in time. Chev settled in to work. Trade rights, border towers, personnel issues. The busywork of royalty. There was nothing urgent in the lot.
He pushed the folios aside and picked up a book. This one was a military history of Jade with biographies of their greatest generals. It was interesting to read between the lines and see the pressures and faults that brought them down. The tactical information was also sound.
“Aren’t you going to finish today’s paperwork?” Clavis interrupted.
“Later.”
His brother huffed and muttered under his breath, but when Chev peered at him over the top of the book, Clavis was still grinning. As usual.
“Go away.”
The smile slipped a little. “I worked half the -” he cleared his throat. “Of course. The genius can’t be bothered with daily matters right now. I understand.” He left with a stiff gait.
Chevalier didn’t get to enjoy his absence for long. Nokto came in and sprawled in one of the office chairs.
“I had the best time last night, King Highness. You really don’t know what you’re missing.” He laughed. “She has this thing she does with her -”
“Why are you here?”
Nokto sat up a little straighter. “Ah, well as to that. The girl’s father does some interesting trade with Obsidian. Flax and cotton. Treated leathers. She had some stories to tell about the lord they contract with. And some of the products he’s offered. A new kind of steel that-”
Chev frowned at him coldly. “I don’t care about your pillow talk. Get proof before you waste my time.”
“Oh! Sure, King Highness. I can do that.” Nokto’s thin smile returned along with a nervous twitch in his cheek.
“If that’s all you want, then leave.”
Nokto stood. “There was one other thing.” He titled his head, looking much like Licht for a heartbeat. “The Belle. If you’re not going to-”
“Leave.”
His brother knew better than to push, but he still gave a lazy bow before sauntering out. As if it was his decision to go and not Chevalier’s command.
In the quiet again, Chev thought, his gaze returning to the page.
Except it wasn’t quiet. Sariel came, and a noble from his faction. Black stopped by, and even a servant had the temerity to interrupt him with tea. He wanted quiet and his books and . . . and the Belle. He’d known it the moment Nokto mentioned her. It was a strange sensation. Nothing like the yearning described in his romance novels, this. No. The feeling was more akin to needing a blanket for the cold. Or some particular food to sate his hunger.
Clavis stopped in again to let him know some nobles would be by later to discuss the conditions of cross-border trade. And to pointedly remind Chevalier that this was not a meeting he could fob off on someone else.
After his brother left, Chevalier stood and picked up a few books. He had only a few minutes to make good his escape. People would be looking for him soon, and he wanted to be away when they did. He was tired of idiots and stupid questions. Chev wanted peace and quiet. And her. It was a good thing he’d already made arrangements.
When he arrived at the Belle’s door, he knocked once and then walked in. This late in the morning, she should be up and dressed. She was one of those morning people.
She was standing by the window, the sunlight catching in her hair. He could see the slight shadow of her silhouette beneath the light fabric of her dress well enough to trace the curves of her body. They drew his eye and for a long moment, he only studied her.
“Prince Chevalier?”
Her voice woke him from his regard. He shut the door behind him.
“Why are you here? It’s -”
“Be quiet.” He needed her silence to hear if anyone was coming. Answers to her questions could come later.
“But Prince Cheva-” She began to speak again, clearly about to protest his appearance in her room.
He covered her mouth with his free hand, ignoring the feel of them against his palm. His touch was only to ensure she remained silent - but the stolen sensation of that softness stoked that feeling of need in him. Chev put his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Having her so close finally began to soothe him and that burr, the itch beneath his skin, started to fade.
Of course, he realized a beat later that she was trying to pull away. Like a butterfly in hand, beating its soft feathered wings against a cage of fingers. So delicate and easy to break, but he had no desire to destroy. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” He saw her eyebrows rise in surprise. Chevalier leaned close and whispered, his lips against her ear. “You might as well shout your feelings with how easy you are to read.” Her little shiver made him chuckle.
The sound of footsteps in the hall drew his attention and he frowned. It could be anyone walking out there with such purpose in their step, but he knew they were looking for him. More footsteps, some barely audible chatter. Then they moved on and he let out a relieved breath. “So they are gone . . .”
There was no excuse to continue holding the Belle. None he could offer her, anyhow. Chevalier let go.
She took a step away, rubbing her arm as if to erase the dimpled skin. To hide her reaction to his closeness. Her lips turned down in a slight frown. “Is someone chasing you?”
“If you mean there is someone looking for me, you are more or less correct.” Chev sat down on her sofa and set his books down. He opened the military history and found where he’d left off. He could already tell this was a much better place to read. No one would look for him here, not for awhile. And having the Belle near eased him.
“So, why-”
Chevalier motioned her to be quiet. “I’m just getting to the good part.”
Her eyes widened. “The . . . good part?” She was silent for a moment and he could feel her eyes on him. Then she smiled widely. “Oh! You were looking for a place to read where you wouldn’t be interrupted!”
“A shrewd observation. For you.” He could not help but be keenly aware of her. Her expression, her body language, her breath. Chev was used to reading people, ferreting out what they did not say. Finding the truth they hid, sometimes from themselves, in a thousand tells. But with her, it wasn’t that she hid things. There was no deception to her. Only a sweet sort of innocence and a naive lack of awareness that left every thought and emotion she held bare for him to see.
Right now she was working up the courage to argue with him. Thinking through the most appropriate avenue to dispute his unexpected presence. Her fingers curled and she got a little line between her brows when deep in thought.
“Wait! Don’t you have official business to take care of?”
He glanced up from the book. “My morning work is done.” Which was more or less accurate.
“Oh? Then what were those footsteps in the hall about?” Her lips curved in the hint of a triumphant smile.
“Dimwits who want to waste my time with pointless chatter.” Also more or less true. “They aren’t worth my time.” Also mostly true. They only wanted to ask the princes to take on their responsibility for keeping roads through their domains safe. He had no patience for such begging from those who should know better.
The Belle bit her lip, considering her words before replying. “Well . . . maybe they have something important to talk about that’s related to your official duties.”
Normally if someone argued with him like this, however politely, he would already have silenced them harshly. But for whatever reason, he wanted her to understand he wasn’t shirking something important. As if her opinion about it might matter. “Perhaps some of the information they have is valid and important. If so, I will receive a report of with all the information rather than pulling it piece by piece from several inefficient conversations.”
She opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again, clearly out of arguments.
Chevalier gave her a pointed look. “Enough pointless questioning. You’ve no right to chase me out of here in the first place.”
“What? Prince Chevalier. This is my room.”
Now he smiled. A thin, sharp turning of his lips in victory. “Ah but you said you would do anything in exchange for my advice about the ball.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging her to dispute this.
The Belle stared at him. “Is . . . Is this what you planned to do from the very start?”
“Indeed. My options for where I can read in the palace undisturbed are surprisingly limited. As long as I can ignore a certain nagging simpleton, this location is only second to the rose garden and the courtyard.” He saw no need to confess more or to explain further.
Chevalier turned his attention back to his book and then paused again. “If anyone visits you, don’t mention me.”
She nodded.
Finally at peace, he was able to return to the pages open so temptingly before him. At least, he managed for a little while to ignore the way her gaze settled on his skin. She examined him as if searching for answers to the most difficult questions. He finished the chapter and looked up again. “What’s this about now?”
Startled, the Belle took a step back. “What do you mean?”
As if she didn’t even realize what she was doing, he thought. “Can’t a man read in peace without you staring?”
Her cheeks flushed and she looked down. “Oh! I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude.” She was precious when contrite.
Chevalier stood and reached out before he considered the gesture, and stroked her hair. It was shockingly soft against his calloused palm. He half expected she would scramble back, not wanting his touch. But she only looked up through the veil of her eyelashes, her face growing even hotter.
“If you have nothing to do while I read, I’ll lend you this.” He pulled his hand away and fished out a book for her, then set it where his hand had so recently been. It was a popular romance novel, one he’d read before but wanted to read again.
She took the book in hand and read the cover. “Midnight Cinderella? This love story is really popular in town right now! We couldn’t keep copies in stock at the bookstore.” The Belle hugged the book to her chest. “I heard it’s about a commoner who suddenly becomes a princess. She falls in love at the palace and -”
Her excitement brought a small smile to Chev’s face. He’d never had someone he could share his books with. “Indeed. I just finished it and it seems like the kind of book you would enjoy.”
“Thank you! I can’t wait to read it!”
Chevalier was surprised at her excitement. The smile on her face was pure delight, holding nothing back. No pretense or falseness to it, only her genuine happiness. “Your joy is so childlike.” He couldn’t hide his own answering smile or the unexpected bloom of warmth in his eyes.
He wasn’t sure what to do with the sensation. How to react. So he sat back down and picked up his book again. Only it wasn’t the book he had been reading. He was so flustered that he picked up a new one. Rather than admit the mistake, he opened it as if he’d intended all along to read this next.
The Belle crossed the room to sit on the bed and opened her book. She was just turning the first page when a knock interrupted them both.
“Belle, are you there?”
Of course it was Clavis. Chev felt the burn of annoyance. His brother always had to interfere, playing his pranks and working on his schemes. It was his fault the Belle was so often thrown into Chevalier’s path, and now that he’d sought her out on his own, Clavis was going to ruin that too.
The Belle went to her door and opened it.
Clavis didn’t give her time to respond. “You came to the door so quickly! Well, let’s go then.” He laughed and Chev could just imagine he was wearing that smile he always pasted on.
“Pardon?” Belle sounded lost, which to be fair, was a common response to Clavis.
Another laugh. “I’m taking you out today, of course. What kind of perfect gentleman would I be if I left you to grow bored on your day off?” He grabbed her hand and began leading her away.
“Wait!” Emma wasn’t the sort of girl to just go along. She pulled back, bringing Clavis to a stop. “At least explain what’s going on before you start dragging me around wherever you please.”
“Relax, hm? All you need to do today is enjoy this date with me.” Clavis’ voice was a low purr, barely audible back in the room where Chev still sat.
The Belle sounded angry as she replied. “Date? I don’t know what part of that I’m supposed to be relaxed about!”
Another laugh from Clavis. “Oh, look at you! Your cheeks are turning red! There’s no need to blush though. You can think of this as your way to thank me for escorting you. I know you’re dying to, right?” He pulled her back into motion, getting further from her room.
She took a breath before replying, her voice calmer now but still with an edge. “Thank you very much for being my escort at the ball. I appreciate it, even if you abandoned me half-way through and never came back.”
“Pffft. I was just letting Chev spend some time with you when you were all dressed up! I’m such a kind brother, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Okay?’ The Belle sounded uncertain about that and still annoyed. “So, where are you taking me now anyway?”
“Oh-ho, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise! Besides, it’s your day off. I know you want to enjoy it with me.”
Chevalier could barely hear them now. He sighed. At least he could read uninterrupted. It would be even quieter with the Belle gone. He had his books and no one suspected he was here . . . but he couldn’t convince himself that was true. He closed the book and stood.
As he returned to his faction office, he lost himself in thought. Reflecting on the odd constriction of his chest. The warmth that came to him when she smiled. Emma. A beast like him did not fall in love. But she stirred him in a way no one else ever had. Chev compared it to the passion described in love stories. His . . . condition . . . was not the same.
Besides, he thought, she would run when she realized how brutal he truly was. Every prince had bloodstained hands, yes, but not the way Chevalier did. Even now, he could not regret the lives spent in his service. The cost of Bloodstained Rose Day. The rivers would run red beneath his rule, for the good of all. For the kingdom. Too much violence and grief for the gentle Belle.
He ignored the bitter emptiness that welled up in him at the thought. He’d given up his humanity, his happiness, years ago. Why now should he hesitate? Chevalier would sacrifice anything for Rhodolite. Everything.
Chapter 10: The First Wound
Summary:
The Belle's precarious position becomes evident as Chevalier's attention becomes apparent. What weapon does an innocent girl have in a palace full of beasts?
Chapter Text
Late morning sun streamed through the office window. Despite the hour, Chevalier still felt tired, but there was no time to rest. The letter in his hands was proof enough of that, if he needed it.
Nokto leaned against a bookshelf on the other side of the room, watching Chev as he read the missive. “What do you think of that, King Highness?”
“We need to take immediate action.” Chev didn’t look up from the letter as he spoke, only read through the few lines again to make sure he’d missed nothing.
“I figured.” Nokto shrugged.
“The woman from last night is the source of this intelligence?” Nokto’s ability to mix business with pleasure was of some interest. Chevalier could not fathom how he did it. The clown was able to turn his entertainment to use more often than not. A useful skill, if one Chev had no intention of cultivating for himself.
“Yup. My spy is top notch.” He grinned. “And she’s not bad in bed either!”
Chev snorted. The statement didn’t deserve a response. He burnt the informant’s letter, watching as the candle flames ate the paper, leaving only a dusting of ash on the desk. He swept it into the fireplace.
Nokto wasn’t good with long silences. Or patience. The letter was only just disposed of when he spoke up again. “So what are we going to do, King Highness?”
“I’ll call an assembly tomorrow.” Chev steepled his fingers, already working through potential outcomes and the plans he’d need to counter or further them.
“I guess we’re going to be busy then, aren’t we? I’d better go give my agent a proper thank you then, while I still can.” Nokto’s smile widened and he clapped his hands together to punctuate the statement. He started to turn as if he was finally going to leave, but he paused mid-motion. “That reminds me. I heard you’ve been enjoying your favorite mistress every night?”
Chevalier felt a flare of annoyance. It was to be expected, of course. His every action was scrutinized, discussed, analyzed, and then passed around, growing further from the truth in each retelling. “It seems there has been quite the embellishment added to the rumors I heard yesterday.”
“Clavis was gleefully spreading half-truths around, last I saw.” Nokto smirked.
“Ugh.” Chev couldn’t suppress a sigh. Of course Clavis was the source of the most ridiculous falsehoods.
Nokto’s smirk widened into a full smile. “That’s why the rumor that the Belle is your mistress spread so far so fast.” His expression turned serious. “You know what that means though. The extremists have to know by now and there’s no way they’re going to ignore it. Worst case scenario, she could die -”
“And what if she does?” Chev cut his brother off with a gesture. His disregard was the best shield for her, or so he told himself. And if he needed to sacrifice her, he would. He would. The mental repetition did not ease the thorn in his heart.
“I guess it doesn’t matter, but if Emma disappears . . .” Nokto smirked again, “there won’t be a single girl left in Rhodolite that will smile at you.”
Chevalier fixed him with an icy glare. “Ridiculous.” He got up to leave, signaling this conversation was over. He had something to take care of, something he needed to do now.
“Are you really just going to let her die if it comes to that?”
“Yes. If worst comes to worst. Understand?” He didn’t look back at Nokto when he replied. He wasn’t sure the clown would be convinced, seeing his expression.
“Interesting.” Nokto sounded as if he wanted to say more, but was wisely silent as Chev walked quickly away.
Luke was easy to find. Lazing in the garden, a plate of honeyed candies on the ground beside him.
“Get up.”
“Wha - King Highness?” Luke blinked and rubbed at his eyes. “What do you want?”
Chev grimaced. It was hard to believe sometimes that this was his brother. At least he had no pretensions toward the throne. Not that his obsessions were harmless but for now - “I need you to take this list to the Belle. She’s the only one who will know where to find these books.” He pulled out a hastily scribed list of titles.
Luke pulled himself up with a groan. “But I was just getting to the good part of my nap.”
Chevalier continued to glare in silence.
“Yeah yeah. You don’t care.” He scratched his rear and yawned. “So where’s Emma?”
“She went into town with Clavis. I’d like her to pick these up before she comes back.”
Luke finally took the note and read over it. “These look really boring.”
Chev felt his back teeth grind as he held back his annoyance. “You will need to hurry.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Luke grinned. “Maybe she’ll be so happy to see me that she’ll want to stop for honeycakes.” He ambled past Chevalier as placidly as a bear with a full belly.
As much as Chev wanted to hurry him along, he needed this to seem like just another selfish request. Merely a well-timed errand. He hoped it would well timed. If Luke was too slow - no, he would not worry over it. This was merely a test, a step in the larger dance, with little real danger.
Still, for the rest of the day he wondered how Luke’s errand went. He kept glancing toward the window as if he might catch sight of the youngest prince returning with the Belle. Chevalier reassured himself that she must be fine. Any other outcome would have gotten back to him sooner.
Yet when the soft knock came at his door, something in his chest loosened. She was alright. She was here. He stepped out of the hot bath and pulled on a robe. He wanted to see her far more than he wanted another moment in the hot water of the tub.
The Belle came into his room with an armful of books. Her gaze drifted across the room, but she didn’t see him as he stepped into the room from his bath. Her shoulders fell and she let out a sigh. The disappointed look on her face pricked at Chev’s heart in unexpected ways. After a moment, she raised her chin, straightened, and turned to leave.
Chevalier quickly crossed the room and closed the door just as she opened it. “Wait.”
She jumped and let out a gasp of surprise. “P-Prince Chevalier?”
He gave a faint smile when she turned to look up at him. A shiver ran through her body that he could feel all too well through the thin fabric of his bathrobe. Desire rose in him, thick and hot and hungry. It would be all too easy to press her back against the door and claim her lips, her body . . .
Chev forced his racing heart to slow. He moved his gaze from her face to what she carried. “Ahh. I see. This is why you’re here.”
The Belle looked down at the book as if she were almost surprised to see them there. “Oh! Yes! These are the books you sent Luke on an errand for. And -” She pulled a book from the stack with a flourish. “The foreign title I promised you awhile back.”
He examined the cover, the style of the lettering and the author’s name. “This is another of the books based on the legends of King Arthur?”
Her smile was beautiful. “So you’re familiar with it?”
“From hearsay.” He took the thick volume from her.
“This is one of the love stories about the knight Lancelot and Queen Guinevere.”
Chevalier stepped away from her and toward his reading couch. “Oh?”
She started to reply but only then seemed to really notice his state of undress. Her eyes moved slowly down his frame, tracing the lines of his body where the thin bathrobe hugged his damp skin. Her face flushed with heat. After a moment, she looked down and took a deep breath.
Her reaction amused him. He’d been around many women that could play the game of seduction, pretending attraction, blushing at will. Fake sighs and fluttering eyelashes. With Emma there was no pretense.
“Did you come alone?”
“Hm? Yes. Of course. It’s not that late so I thought it would be fine.” She raised her head briefly and then looked down again, cheeks still hot.
He laughed softly. “So you don’t value your own life?”
Her chin snapped up at that. “What does that mean?”
“I suppose I have to spell it out for you.” He pretended exasperation, well enough that she took a little step back from him. “I assumed you already heard about the anti-war nobles and their ridiculous rumor.”
She frowned as if only now considering what this would look like. Her coming to his room alone, at night. And she still hadn’t considered the very real danger to herself.
Chevalier wished she was a little more selfish. A little more concerned about saving her own skin. “For someone who might be attacked anywhere, anytime, you walk around alone quite often.”
The Belle shrugged uneasily. “Well . . . I wouldn’t expect to be targeted here in the palace, with such tight defenses.”
He scoffed. “Do you think I would ever need to draw my sword if the palace defenses were perfect?”
Realization dawned on her slowly. Chevalier could almost track the memories as they made their way through her mind.
“This palace is a lair of beasts. It is a place where the weak are subjugated, exposed to cruelty. Devoured.” Chev took a step toward her, conflicted in purpose but drawn forward either way. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted to protect her innocence.
He took her chin in his hand and captured her gaze. “You’ve meddled, Belle. And now you do not have the option to simply stay out of it.”
She stared at him like a frightened rabbit, her courage only embers.
Chevalier picked her up and set her on the bed. He pinned her hands above her head, letting the books fall to the side. The urge to devour her was almost overwhelming as he pressed her back into the soft sheets. He could feel her warmth, smell her light perfume.
Fire leapt in her gaze, bright and hot, and unafraid. “What do you think you are doing?”
He leaned close, his lips grazing her cheek. “Trust no one. Not me, nor the servants, not the other princes . . .” Chev felt a tremor through his own flesh, the tension of self-denial. He used it to harden his gaze. “Consider anyone and everyone your enemy.” He drew a line along her neck, down to her collar bone, toying with the clasp that held the top of her gown closed.
Though she shivered at his touch, she did not back down. “Is that how things are in the palace? A matter of fact?” She tried to pull from his grasp but could not budge him. “You can’t trust even your family because anyone might betray you someday?”
Chevalier smiled. “That is the way of royalty.”
“Isn’t it painful for you?”
The gentle appeal in the question was what surprised him. Not the question itself. He hid his reaction behind a mask of disinterest. “Why would it?”
“Because for me, a life of distrust would be painful. And lonely.”
His smile twisted for a moment as her words struck too close to the icy walls of his heart. “You see, Belle, that is what makes you a decent human being.” And I, only a beast, he did not add.
Her eyes clouded as she studied his face. “Prince Chevalier, are you saying that you are not a decent human being?”
Chevalier gave a mocking laugh, ignoring the way it pained him to speak of this to her. “Of course not. They call me the Brutal Beast, remember? I harbor no human emotion.” The words twisted in his gut uncomfortably. No human emotion . . . a lie, and she was proof, though she did not seem to realize.
She reached out and grasped his fingers where he held her arms pinned above her head.
He almost let go as she gave him a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “What?”
“Prince Chevalier.” She gifted him with another sweet smile. “You are no beast. You are a person.”
For a moment, he was stunned to silence. He’d killed in front of her. Held a bare blade to her throat. Even now, had her pinned to his bed as if to deflower her, and this - this was her reaction? He could not help but laugh. “I never expected you to say that.” He toyed with her earlobe, eliciting a sharp breath from her. “What have your eyes been seeing all this time? I have no recollection of humane behaviour on my part.”
“Mmm, if that’s what you think, then it’s only because you haven’t realized it yourself Prince Chevalier.” She moved her shoulders in a slight shrug. “I won’t deny that you can be as cruel and merciless as a beast. But that’s not all you are.”
He didn’t know how to respond. The carefully cultivated ice within him cracked, and a trickle of warmth opened in his heart. A vulnerability. A weakness. Yet he could not find it in him to do what he must to staunch that flow before it grew. And it would. Even now, her warmth penetrated his cold depths, and he could not bear to let go nor to push her away. Chev looked at the scattered books rather than let her see the struggle in his gaze.
The Belle was relentless in her affection. “I want to learn even more about you, Prince Chevalier. Everything about you.”
“Ridiculous. You would risk your life for something so trivial?” He fought himself, pulling the mask back into place. “You realize if you get further involved with me, you increase the possibility that you will die?”
She nodded, her jaw clenching with that stubborn streak of hers. “I was chosen as the Belle. It’s my duty to judge whether you and the other princes are worthy of the throne. I won’t -” she cleared her throat, “I won’t back out now.”
He let her pull her hands away this time as he slid his palm down her arm and along her side. Barely grazing cloth and skin. She seemed to fragile, like blown glass, that he could forget the steel core of her. That foolish bravery that burned in her heart. “You’re a fool, you know?”
She pressed into his touch, breath catching in her throat.
“If you’re going to talk big, prove here and now that you have the brains to protect yourself.” He laid his other hand on her chest, over her heart. Chevalier could feel the way it galloped beneath his palm, reckless as its uncautious owner. “Consider the risk. What if you were captured by the anti war faction? What palace secrets could you leak . . .” He exerted a light pressure, a warning.
Her eyes widened.
“It could be to my advantage to just kill you now.”
“No!”
Chev pressed his forehead against hers. “Then use your brain. It’s the only weapon you have.” This, he thought, was a battle of will. The Belle against herself, and he was coach and referee and audience in one.
Her breath was ragged now, and coming almost as fast as the wild beating of her heart. Daring and fear and lust and other, darker emotions fought across her expression as she battled for control.
He watched her slowly exert calm, forcing her breath to even out and even her pulse to slow.
“Prince Chevalier, are you familiar with the story ‘One Thousand and One Nights?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “The tale of a mad king who brings a young girl to his bedroom and then threatens to kill her the next day, night after night.”
She nodded. “Y-yes. And she risks her life to tell him a story each night. She survives by stopping each time on a cliffhanger and promising to finish the story the following night.”
“Yes and eventually he amends his ways and becomes a good ruler. Get to your point.”
The Belle gave him a wry smile. “I’ll tell you a story now, Prince Chevalier. And whatever it is you want to do to me, you can do it when I finish. If you still want to. Deal?”
He didn’t much like being compared to the mad king but he was curious what story she wanted to tell. He gave a noncommittal grunt, and let go of her. “It’s simplistic. But fine.” He laid down next to her, pretending not to notice the way she rubbed her chest where he’d pressed down against it.
She turned to face him, her mouth opening in surprise as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Chevalier knew he shouldn’t. But he could no more stop himself from holding her in this moment than he could stop himself from breathing. The feeling was nothing like described in his romance novels where characters always understood their role, even if they could not see how it would end.
For Chev, it was the opposite. He saw all too clearly how this would go. A handful of tragic possibilities. But he could not discern himself in the pattern, or analyze why he gave in when he knew the potential cost to them both. What he knew was that she felt right and good in his arms. He gave her a smug smile, “Just know that if you waste my time, you will pay the price.”
“Alright.” She took a deep breath. “Once upon a time, there lived a prince . . .”
He let the words wash over him, meaningless words, lost in the music of her voice and the sensual movement of her lips as she spoke. Chevalier watched her until her eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep, still in the middle of her storytelling. Then he tucked her carefully against him and let himself doze. If he dreamed, it was of her. And when he woke, she was there too. And whether it was the beast in him, or the man, her presence left him calm and tensed all at once.
In the throne room, another petal fell from Beauty’s Time. A warning and a measure, the petal lay beneath the glass dome, as red as blood. The first wound scored in a duel of hearts, but whose?
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