43. Never Powerless
R ose joined the team cleaning the West Terrace, public Tea Room, and sitting room where the Queen had entertained guests that afternoon. There must have been a garden party because dirt was tracked throughout, spilled drinks and bits of food were everywhere, and pieces of plants littered the floor.
It wasn’t hard slipping back into the role of maid, though her muscles protested such labor after her weeks off. With Ciel around her neck snoring as a mink, she cleaned cheerfully, memories from her time away with Adrian playing through her mind. The other maids glanced her way and whispered about her reappearance, but no one said anything to her directly.
Halfway through her night, her back aching as she swept the dirt-covered carpet, she was confused to hear a scuffle behind her. Turning, she saw two forms fighting in the dark sitting room she’d just finished cleaning. There were no maids around, and she wondered where they’d all disappeared to as a figure walked down the hall .
“There’s the lovely little slut,” he said, his hard, mean expression chilling her to the bone as much as the slurred words.
Forgetting all protocol for respecting royalty, Rose retreated several steps from Prince Dimitri. When he continued advancing, scarily amused, she brandished her broom as a weapon. He grabbed and tossed it, chuckling.
“No weapon will help you.”
Cold fear skittered down her spine. Her instincts screamed to turn and run but she was afraid to give him her back. Searching for something else to defend herself with, she backed into the Tea Room. The moon shone through tall glass doors that led to the terrace, brightening the dark and glinting off the stone floor.
There was a tea service on display on a side table. When she darted to grab it, Prince Dimitri stepped into her path. Darting the other way, hoping to grab the ornate candelabra on a sideboard, he blocked her again.
Her heart raced as he advanced on her, and she backed away until she hit the table in the middle of the room. She tried to skirt around it, but he grabbed her wrist and jerked her back, stepping into her. Taking hold of her chin, he tilted her head back, sneering at the little cuts on her neck and chest.
“My brother has quite the appetite.” He sneered, taking a harsher grip on her jaw when she jerked out of his hold. “Why’s he so infatuated?” He squeezed her breast, grinning licentiously. “S’not these.”
“Don’t touch me.” She shoved his hand away.
Prince Dimitri laughed, his liquor breath washing over her. “You are fiery.” He leaned closer to whisper, even as she tried to push him away, “Fight, little slave. That damn beast isn’t here. S’just you and me.” He ran a finger down the side of her face, smiling wider when she jerked her head away and tried to shove him. Circling her wrists with his hands, he pulled them behind her back and held them in one of his .
“I am no slave,” she spit, struggling. The harder she fought—bucking, kicking, trying to wrestle her hands free—the tighter he held. “Let go!” Trying to pull on her power that was so very deep inside her, panic rose when it wouldn’t respond.
“No.”
The simple word said so clearly and with utter confidence made Rose shake. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. Hot tears filled her eyes as Prince Dimitri pushed her onto the table and shoved her legs apart. He stepped between them, running his hand up her thigh, rucking up her skirt. Bucking, she twisted her hands, but he only tightened his grip, cutting off her circulation, and tugged until her back bowed.
“Please, Prince Dimitri. Please. You don’t want me. You don’t want to do this.” Tears burned her eyes and throat, and she hated being reduced to begging. “I’m ugly. I can’t ever satisfy you.”
“Sssh,” he soothed, using his free hand to stroke her face as he set his forehead to hers. “Ruinin’ you will hurt him.” Lifting his head, fingers still stroking her face, misery deadened his eyes. “We’re both spares, slave, never good enough, no matter what we do.”
The words struck deep, full of hopelessness that resonated. Sobbing, she thrashed with all her strength even as his inner anguish mirrored her own. It did not stop him from ripping her underwear away. As he shoved them in his pocket, Rose squeezed her eyes shut. The sound of him unbuckling his pants had her going blind with terror.
As tears streaked down her face, she heard Aldric’s voice and whispered his words. “I am elf. I am magic incarnate. I am powerful and strong and won’t be subdued. I am elf. I am magic . . .”
The power in her well poured forth, and as it did, her terror diminished. Breathing deep, Rose let the heat of her magic imbue her limbs with strength. “Don’t taint your soul this way, Prince Dimitri.” Opening her eyes, she let him see her magic glowing there. “Let me go.”
Hesitating, he searched her face for a long moment. He swallowed thickly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, before a loud screech came from the hall. Prince Dimitri released her hands, and Rose immediately shoved him, physically and with her power, sending him sprawling.
Ciel the lion charged in roaring. Running at Prince Dimitri, who scrambled backward, he roared again.
“Do not come near me again,” Rose said in her best deadly tone. “Do not even look at me. I don’t care how much you suffer; we are nothing alike.”
“Who are you?” he asked, staring up.
“Not yours.” Pulling more magic, she stirred the air into a strong wind. Prince Dimitri gained his feet, eyed Ciel and then Rose, and tried to run. He fell, his open pants and incoordination tripping him. Fixing them in a rush, he darted out after a wild look around the room.
Rose blew out a windy breath, the air stilling with only a thought. Ciel butted her belly, and she gladly stroked his mane. “Thank you.” She kissed his big head.
“Lady Rose?” came a gasp from the hall.
Rushing out, she found Timothy using the wall for support on his way out of the sitting room next door. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothing torn, and one arm was wrapped around his torso as if he’d hurt something internally. Rose tried to take some of his weight, urging him to lean into her, but he winced and blew out a painful breath.
“Ah, fuck. Careful, miss.”
“I think that’s the first I’ve heard you cuss, Timothy. Come then, sit.” She helped him ease down. “Now stay still. I’m going to heal you.”
“Miss Rose, you don’t— ”
“Shush.” With her pulse still pounding from her encounter with the human Prince, she set her hands on his chest. It was easy to flow out her magic, surrounding Timothy and relaxing him in a soft comforting cloud. His eyes drooped as her balm soothed.
With him sedated, she ran gentle hands over his body, connecting and seeking all his injuries. There was a dislocated shoulder, a broken eye socket, two broken ribs, two broken knuckles, and extensive bruising. Pouring her magic into him was almost a relief, though the healing stung.
Rose embraced the pain, even the broken eye socket and ribs that remained hot and throbbing. And his shoulder, which she manipulated as gently as she could, nauseated her as it popped back into place. Thickening the soothing blanket around Timothy, she bit back sick.
Weariness weighed on her as her magic ebbed. No longer surging and easy to send out, she had to pull from deep within as she healed the last bruises and soothed the final aches. Absorbing everything, she slowly withdrew.
Sweat soaked her and her limbs were heavy and weak, but Timothy appeared fine, a little shell-shocked but fine. Ciel rubbed against her side, and she patted his fluffy red mane.
“That was . . .” Timothy lifted his hands and stared at them, flipping them over to examine them as if they were foreign. “Shit, but I’m tingly.”
“That’s the magic. It will fade. Do you feel better?”
“Yes.” He looked up with a grin she’d never seen on his handsome face. “Thank you, Miss Rose. You surely didn’t have to do that.”
“I did. I can’t have my bodyguard injured. Thank you for defending me.”
“It’s what I’m paid for.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “I’ll put you in for a raise.”
“Unnecessary. ”
They both looked at the three men starting to groan behind them. Rose hadn’t even noticed them.
“I’m not touching them,” she said, making Timothy laugh.
“Should I knock ’em out again?”
“And re-injure your hands? I think not. Leave them.”
“Let’s get you up and move on then.”
Rose let him help her to her feet and then went next door to fix everything. Timothy helped.
“Did he hurt you, Miss Rose?”
“I am fine, Timothy.”
Though he looked doubtful, he didn’t press. They both turned when one of the King’s servants entered the room. He nodded to them and said, “His Royal Majesty the King and Prince Adrian require your presence. Follow me.”
Rose looked to Timothy, who shrugged, following at a distance as she leaned into Ciel, trying to hide how utterly drained she was.