I wasn’t able to read at all after Prince Clavis left. He was pushing me too far, and Sariel—I didn’t trust him one bit. One o’clock came, and I got back to work, still seething at both of them. My eyes kept wandering to the clock, watching the minutes oh so slowly tick by. I needed to see Mother safely at home for myself. Why did the day have to pass so slowly?

And I still had to deal with Prince Chevalier. He hadn’t brought up a punishment earlier in the morning, but maybe he was just trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I didn’t know how his mind worked. Every time I thought I was getting closer to figuring him out, he said or did something out of line with everything I knew. The only things he kept consistent were his schedule and his cold attitude.

I was finding a new job as soon as Mother-

No. I wasn’t thinking about that.

Prince Chevalier arrived at two thirty as usual, and I brought him his tea, steeling myself for what might come. He looked up at me as he took his first sip. His icy blue eyes and impassive face gave me no clues to what he was thinking, but I knew he was reading me as easily as the book in his hand. The mask wasn’t doing me much good, particularly since I couldn’t be bothered to worry about it when I was too busy worrying about Mother. It didn’t matter, anyway. No matter what I said, no matter what I did, I always ended up in trouble with somebody in the palace.

“You’re tense,” he commented.

“I have a lot on my mind, Prince Chevalier,” I said carefully.

“Four-Eyes?”

How did he always seem to know everything?

I nodded.

He set the teacup down, smirking. “You’re very bold to raise your voice at him.”

Prince Clavis must have told him. He was part of Prince Chevalier’s faction, after all, and he’d witnessed the whole thing.

Well, almost the whole thing.

“He wouldn’t listen otherwise, your highness,” I said coolly.

“He hasn’t moved her.”

There was nothing in his expression or his tone to reassure me, just the words themselves, but those were enough. I exhaled slowly.

“Are you sure, Prince Chevalier?”

He nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

I often left Prince Chevalier’s presence with a sense of relief, but never because of him; rather, because I was getting away from him. It felt strange to be comforted by something he said. He was, overall, unpredictable and untrustworthy, but he’d never lied to me. He said what he meant, and he did what he said. That had never changed.

He never spoke about punishing me yesterday, did he?

I didn’t know what to make of him, but I had work to do. That never changed, either.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful—outside my mind, at least. That was still in chaos. I believed Prince Chevalier, but after everything with Sariel, I needed to see Mother for myself before I could truly relax. And then there was the doubt nagging at the back of my mind. Moving her was bad for her health. Leaving her alone for much of the day wasn’t good for her, either. Was it worth the cost to get her better care? Twenty-four hour care with an actual nurse? Even if that meant committing to dealing with all eight of the princes regularly?

She’d said that she wanted me to move into the servants’ quarters in the palace. I knew why. It was the same reason that worried Prince Jin when he walked me home, and the same reason I couldn’t fathom why Prince Nokto would see me as a threat to Prince Licht. I made for an easy target.

Maybe I should consider taking the role of Belle.

I stopped cleaning to massage my temples. This thought process wasn’t getting me anywhere. No matter how many times I ran through it, I couldn’t get past the fear of her dying just from being moved. The doctor said it could happen. He also approved of the care I was giving her. With or without the princes, with or without the commute, that was all that mattered, and I wasn’t changing anything now.

Prince Chevalier didn’t speak when I collected his teacup before I left. I bid him a good day and hurried to the kitchens to drop it off, and then I was out the door, walking home as quickly as possible. Visions of Sariel at my door plagued me the further I got from the palace. It suddenly occurred to me, I was more afraid of him than I was of Prince Chevalier. I wondered what Theresa would think about that. Not that I would tell her. To do that would mean I’d have to explain about my mother, and I preferred to keep my private life as separate from my work life as possible.

I didn’t even see the road my feet traveled by memory. Everything was an unimportant blur, secondary to my need to see Mother. But it was never a good idea to be distracted while walking through the red-light district.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

The familiar voice and rough hand closing around my wrist yanked me back to reality. My heart dropped into my stomach as I looked up in shock at his bloodshot brown eyes. I struggled to break free, but he was stronger drunk than he was sober, and he reeked of alcohol. Alcohol and body odor. His grip tightened the harder I fought, dragging me off the street and toward a building that was as familiar and repulsive as he was.

“I’ve already told you no. Let me go!”

There were other people on the street, but they ignored my shouting and looked away. He was big, strong, and mean, and I was on my own. I was always on my own. He pulled me around to the back of the building, my fear and my frantic efforts to pull free mounting with every step. He never took me this way. I couldn’t breathe; panic was choking me. He yanked me through the door, up the stairs, and into a bedroom, slamming the door shut and throwing me onto the dirty sheets as easily as if I were a doll.

“That was before you started traipsing around with princes, wasn’t it?”

He was on top of me before I could escape, his stubble scraping across my face, his alcohol-laden breath making me gag. I tried to shove him off, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands over my head.

“I don’t tolerate any competition, girl. You work for me or not at all.”

“Get off of me!” I shouted, twisting and squirming with everything I had. My heart was racing. He wasn’t letting me go this time. I could hear the creaking of a rusty bed frame and a telltale moan through the paper-thin walls. That wouldn’t be me. I couldn’t let that be me.

“How much are they paying you, huh?” He pulled my wrists together, gripping them with one hand. “I don’t mind you keeping them on as clients,” he continued, pushing my skirt up with his free hand. “But you’ll make a lot more if you branch out a bit.”

“I’m a maid at the palace, and that’s all. I’ve told you before, I’m not a prostitute!”

Somehow, I managed to get one hand free, and I slapped him as hard as I could. He was stunned, just for a moment, long enough for me to slip out from under him and make a break for the door. I didn’t get there in time. His large hands grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around and slamming me hard against the wood.

“You’re going to regret that,” he growled, his fingers digging in painfully.

I was too panicked to think anymore. He tore at my dress, and I brought my knee up hard into his groin, bolting out the door as he doubled over in pain. I ran faster than I’d ever run, down the stairs, out to the alley, onto the street, feet pounding on cobblestone, heart pounding in my chest, breath ragged in my ears. Out of the city, through the country, around the village to the back of my house. There I finally stopped, hands on my knees, breathing hard. It was over. I’d made it out. I wouldn’t have to worry about him again until the morning, and he would probably be out cold with a bad hangover at that point. My stomach was churning; I was trembling all over. I stumbled toward the ditch and threw up. My hands were shaking. I’d never come that close to-

I fell to my knees, retching again, dry heaving. My heart was still racing out of control; my face was slick with sweat and tears. He knew where I lived. What if he came after me? I buried my face in my hands, trying to remind myself to breathe, but it wasn’t working. My chest felt tight, and the only breaths I could manage were short and fast. I had to get myself under control. Mother needed me. She had nobody but me. I couldn’t sit out here crying. This wasn’t doing me any good. I had to stop thinking about it.

My dress. What about my dress? There was no hiding the damage from her. He tore the front wide open. And it wasn’t even mine. This was a uniform from the palace. What was I going to do? And the scratches on my chest…

I rose on shaky legs and stumbled to the nearby river. It was dinnertime, so nobody else was there, which was a relief. I splashed my face with the cold water, but it wasn’t enough. I could still smell his breath, feel his greasy, gray-flecked brown hair on my face. It was too early in spring, the river too full of snowmelt to make bathing comfortable. I stepped into the water anyway, welcoming the numbing sensation that erased his rough hand from my thigh. The current was strong. I wished I could let it sweep me away.

Maybe that could be how I explained it to Mother? The current took me, and the rocks at the bottom of the river tore my dress and scratched me up?

She was smarter than that.

I swam back to shore and huddled on the bank, hugging my legs to my chest, tucking my face into my skirt until darkness fell. Shivering from the cold forced me home well before my courage returned. Mother was already asleep in bed—thank goodness for that. I quickly stripped, dried, and changed into one of my own dresses, folding the uniform carefully to hide the tear. In the morning, I would just have to go to the palace in my regular clothes and change when I got there. Hopefully, I could slip the torn uniform into the laundry and nobody would even know it was mine. I was going to have to leave early, too, so I could take a detour around the red-light district.

But that was tomorrow. Tonight, I needed to take care of Mother.

I sat on the edge of the bed next to her and took her thin hand in mine. Her green eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a tired smile.

“How was your day today, Ivetta?” she asked, her voice faint.

“I got to meet Sariel today—the king’s regent,” I started in my usual calm, cheerful tone. “Prince Chevalier knew about the meeting, of course. Prince Clavis is still up to trouble.”

I brushed her limp black hair back from her face, a face that used to be so bright and full of life, and now was so pale and drawn. A pang of guilt struck me for not coming inside sooner.

“Have you eaten anything, Mother?”

Her eyes closed, and she shook her head slightly. “I’m not really hungry.”

“But you should eat something. You just rest for a bit, and I’ll throw something together,” I said as I stood, forcing a smile to my face.

“You work too hard, Ivetta,” she admonished.

“I don’t mind, Mother. It’s not really work anyway, taking care of you. I’m happy to do it.”