19. Palace of Rats
R ose hardly slept, feeling an ominous oppression in the dark. She was afraid every moment that someone would break down the door and stab her to death. She tried to tell herself that was what the person wanted—her fear, and probably her running away.
That wasn’t going to happen. Not only was she obligated to stay for a year, but she wasn’t a coward and had faced far worse than slashed cloth.
What little sleep she got came in the early hours of the morning, just before Cordelia stirred with the rest of the day shift maids. Instead of rising with her, Rose remained in bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Aren’t you going to get ready for work?” Cordelia asked after using the bathroom and changing into her uniform. She put her nightdress away and looked at Rose still abed.
“I have off today.”
“Of course.” Cordelia smiled. “For your riding date. Do you know how to ride?”
“I’m going to the library.”
She couldn’t tell Cordelia the truth. And she’d realized during the night that her roommate had the easiest access and was one of the few who had seen her rich dresses. She thought it more likely that a shunted ex-lover of the Prince had been looking for a little petty revenge but couldn’t shake her suspicion.
“Well, enjoy your day. Perhaps you can tell me about it later.”
For several moments, Rose considered not meeting her Prince. She could rest as she’d never had the luxury to, and then spend the day in the library.
She dismissed the idea because she’d given her word. It would upset him if she reneged, and heavens only knew how he’d retaliate.
It was also an opportunity to bring up what Ms. Shea had said.
And a little voice whispered that she wanted time with him, unwise as it was.
So, she began her first of four trips downstairs for buckets of hot water so she could bathe. Though extremely tired at the end, it was worth it to repose in the tiny tub. She added the flower petals she’d gathered and saved in an empty soap dish, hoping they’d add a light fragrance so she smelled nice. She took her time washing, dressed in the Prince’s most recent gifts, and brushed her hair and teeth, leaving her curls untamed.
With her stomach churning in nervous anticipation, Rose made her way outside. The sky was gray with the approaching sunrise, the air springtime chilly, and mist clung to the damp ground. She cut through it, enjoying the briskness, and when she came to a fork in the path, headed to the barns instead of the carriage houses. She glanced that way, recalling when she’d walked there with the Prince.
Things had certainly changed since that day.
The birds were awake and chirping, the night insects quieting as daybreak approached. A bullfrog gave a deep bellow from somewhere nearby, and a responding chorus sounded. The sounds of the barnyard grew louder as she approached—hoofbeats on the ground, nickering, a high whinny, and the talking of grooms.
Those grooms were taking the horses out to pasture. There was a feeling of energy in the air, the excitement of a new day, and it seeped into Rose. Instead of fretting over being dressed so much above her station, in colors far richer than she’d ever been allowed, she anticipated whatever adventure lay in store.
Because it was always an adventure with His Highness.
As the horses were led to their paddocks to graze, she searched for the stately form of the Prince. He was taller than the two grooms he stood with, each holding the bridle of a horse while another stable hand filled the saddlebags of the big black stallion. He wore white riding breeches with tall black boots and a navy jacket over a plain cotton shirt. As she approached, he turned, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, making her belly do a slow dip and roll.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she greeted, doing a deep reverence.
“Good morning,” he replied, giving a short nod as she stood. She willed herself not to blush at his intense stare and turned to his horse, who was trying to pull his head away from the groom holding him.
“I remember you, handsome,” she said, reaching out to rub the stallion’s muzzle.
“Careful, miss,” the human groom warned. “He bites.”
“I recall.” Rose stepped closer anyway, scratching the horse’s wide forehead. “Cocky like your master, huh?” The horse gave a short bob of his head and a soft whicker. He was responding to her tone of voice, Rose knew, but it felt like agreement. “You’re going to be nice this morning, though, aren’t you?” As she stroked his neck, he shook his head and stomped a hoof, tugging harder to try and get out of the groom’s grip. Turning to the Prince, the stallion nuzzling her cheek, she said, “He’s certainly ready this morning. ”
“He’s not the only one,” Prince Adrian replied just loud enough for her to hear. He then moved to the other horse, a shorter dapple-gray mare a few steps away so the stallion couldn’t bite her. “This is Bonbon.” He stroked the mare’s nose. She whickered softly and sniffed the pocket of his pants. “Treats after,” he told her, turning to Rose. “She is for you if you’d like. If not”—he smiled slowly—“you can join me. Martinet can well handle us both.”
“I can ride,” Rose replied, somehow certain of that fact. She stepped away from Martinet to pet Bonbon’s muzzle. Her hand brushed her Prince’s, and she tried to ignore the tingle.
“Very well then. Are you ready?”
“Oh, yes.” Rose moved to mount, frowning down at her feet once she was in the saddle. She dismounted to lengthen the stirrups, and once back astride, she looked to the groom holding Bonbon’s head. “You can let go. I’m going to walk her down the lane.” Reluctantly, he let go and Rose urged Bonbon into a sedate walk, ignoring the conversation behind her.
“Is this wise, sir? Bonbon is a good horse for sure, sweet as anything, but the miss—”
“Are you questioning my judgment?”
“No. No, sir. Apologies, Your Highness.”
If anything else was said, Rose didn’t hear it as she urged Bonbon to a trot, and then a rocking canter. The mare responded to the lightest signals and riding her brought back a flood of memories. Shoving them all away, she returned to where the Prince waited, looking so regal astride his magnificent stallion.
“You look beautiful,” Adrian complimented Rose as they walked down the lane between two paddocks.
“Thank you,” Rose replied, watching the horses working off their morning oats. They looked carefree, cutting through the mist, chasing each other.
“Thank you for the outfit. It is lovely, a bit extravagant, but lovely. May I ask who it was intended for?”
“I do not know nor care. You needed one. Here it is. Now, let’s trot. Martinet is antsy. If I don’t give him something, he’ll turn into a brat.”
Rose remained beside him through the bouncing gait. For being a slave for so long, she rode extremely well. She must have had superior teaching as a child.
“You seem very comfortable in the saddle,” he noted as they slowed to a walk several minutes later.
“It comes back. I think . . . I think we had barns where I used to live. And many horses. Mother and Father had favorite mounts, and I had a pony named Chestnut, who I learned to ride on. He was sweet and tried so hard to please.” Her eyes went distant. “We took rides as a family through the meadows where Mother and I would pick wildflowers. That was where Leonidas and I would sometimes gallop and race without my parents knowing. They didn’t want me going fast.”
“Who was Leonidas?”
Rose tilted her head. “I’m not sure. He was loyal to my parents and spent much time with me. We played sometimes, and he let me climb trees, which . . . there was a woman who disapproved. I don’t recall her. But Leonidas made me laugh. I think he was a servant of some sort. I don’t recognize his uniform, only that it is pristine white. There is a symbol on it, a golden form of some kind, but it is blurry, like most of the faces from my dreams.” She sighed windily. “And I sound crazy.”
“No, you sound like your memory is returning.”
“I . . . don’t know if that is true. But things have changed since I came here. I never used to dream about them so much.”
“What do you think prompted it?”
“Freedom. And friends.” Her eyes cut to him, and her cheeks tinged the sweetest pink before she quickly looked away. “I suppose it does not matter much.”
“Of course it does,” Adrian argued, drawing her gaze back, “though I wish to be far more than a friend.” He gave her a flirty grin that showed a little fang, and she blushed deeper. “Tell me what else you remember.”
She sighed again as they rounded a gentle bend. “Aside from Leonidas, I don’t remember names. In my last dream, there was a baby, but I can’t . . . It fades. The male and female are simply Mother and Father.”
“Is there anything distinguishable? Landmarks or landforms or buildings I could look up? Anything could be a clue.”
“We lived in a castle surrounded by open grassland and meadow. It was flat and warm. Very sunny.” She grimaced. “And that could be so many places in the south.”
“On the contrary, it proves—or at least further solidifies—that you have wealthy parentage. Castles are hardly cheap, nor is educating a child, or having a barn full of horses and staff to serve. Your memories are happy, which shows you were well cared for, at least for a time. It sounds as if you were loved and loved in return. ”
“Very much so, I believe. Part of me does not wish to remember everything because I could learn it’s all gone.”
“I understand.” Adrian couldn’t say that he understood what she was going through because he couldn’t imagine losing his family, but he could easily see her need to hold on to hope. “I have at least brought some light into your life, yes?”
“Always fishing for compliments,” she teased. Her smile quickly faded, sobering. “But I think you know you changed my life. I didn’t realize just how much until recently. And not all of it is good.”
“How so?”
“I received a warning.”
“From whom?” he demanded, his temper flaring instantly. He had to keep a firm hand on Martinet, who sensed his anger and grew agitated.
“From your head housekeeper. She wanted me to remind you of, and I quote, the repercussions of being so obviously besotted .”
Adrian stared into the oncoming trees. He shouldn’t be surprised, and he wasn’t really. The palace was full of rats. It was the way things were in places like this. Everyone was looking for an advantage over everyone else.
Not that it changed anything. He just had to be smarter.
And make sure Rose was kept safe.
“Was that all?”
“She said that if I’m not careful, I may make enemies.”
“I will protect you.”
She gave him a tight smile. “Even against your future wife?”
He didn’t like being reminded of his mother’s deadline. He especially didn’t like being reminded by her , his current fixation that made every other female pale in comparison.
“That is not your concern. ”
“Of course, it is my concern. No one has more motivation to get me gone than the future Queen. I am not stupid, Your Highness.”
“No one called you stupid, Rose. I have not chosen a bride, so there is no future Queen yet. Do not ask for trouble where there is none.” He paused. “And do not forget who I am. I have more power than anyone aside from my father, who, by the way, has given his blessing, of sorts, on our relationship.” Adrian watched her absorb that and then went on, “I would never let anything happen to you. Do you not remember the slave traders? If anyone so much as touches you, I will have their heads.”
She visibly shivered. “Please don’t kill anyone else.”
“As long as no one gives me a reason to, I won’t. I have asked you before to trust me. I will take care of you.”
For a moment, her expression turned soft, but he watched as wariness took over. “My dresses were destroyed.”
“The ones I bought you?”
Rose nodded. “All three were slashed where they hung in my wardrobe. All my uniforms were left untouched.”
That was a statement in itself. “Who has access?”
“The attic is common quarters for all the maid staff, Your Highness. There are no locks on the doors. Anyone could get in.”
“Hmm. Are you enemies with any maid in particular? Or is it perhaps connected to Shea’s warning?”
“I think Ms. Shea was looking out for you.” She paused. “I would suspect your Lucinda. You know, broken heart and everything, especially being shunted publicly as she was.”
He liked the jealousy in her tone but said, “She was never mine .” Martinet tugged on the reins, and since they’d been walking for a while, he decided to let him have his head. Beside him, Rose followed smoothly into a canter. He was impressed again with her ability. “Lucinda was convenient. I did not appreciate how she started wagging her tongue and acting entitled. So, I cut her loose. End of discussion.”
Beside him, Rose frowned. “When you get bored with me, will I get cut loose as well?”
“I can make you no promises, you must know that.” She looked away, and he went on, “That being said, there is none other that I want right now . And who knows, maybe our stimulating conversations will last well into the future.”
Rose turned back with a scowl. “I will not be your mistress.”
Adrian flashed his fangs, well prepared to take that challenge. “Mistresses to the crown are coveted and cared for like no other.” He eyed her form in the saddle again, stalling on her breasts in the well-fitting corset, which her coat conveniently buttoned just beneath, framing nicely. “Not to mention you look very pleasing in pretty things.”
She rolled her eyes. “I do not share.”
“I have no intention to share . I fired all competition for you.”
She narrowed her eyes as they pulled back to a trot, and then a walk. “Mistress, by definition, means sharing a male with his wife.”
“I am not wed.”
“Word is you must pick a bride by the end of the season.”
“And we will address that when it comes.” He sent her a heated look. “Stop arguing or I will fuck you right here against a damn tree.”
She blinked, and then flushed deep crimson, and then sat taller. “You certainly will not, you strange, vulgar male.”
He laughed. “Your spirit is a huge turn-on, Rose. I will show you when we reach our destination.”