48. Magic and Miracles of a Benevolent Maid
T he next evening while Adrian headed off to train, Rose began work with a very visible Timothy and Horace shadowing her. It wasn’t wise, but her Prince was adamant they make their presence known. The glances they received in the halls made Rose’s belly churn, but she squared her shoulders, pulled her magic more firmly around her, and walked with her head high.
Ms. Shea told her to just do whatever you feel .
As the housekeeper walked away, Rose glanced at Timothy, who shrugged. Trying to tame her uncertainty, Rose gathered supplies to clean the hallways. Aware of the eyes on her, she dusted and polished wood. When she came to flowers that needed tending, she watered and pulled dying stalks. When she came upon the gardener freshening the indoor greenery, he gave her a basket of new blooms and thanked her for her help.
“What you’ve been taking care of looks right stunning, Miss Rose. Do whatever you like because it’s always brilliant. Have you seen the lily garden lately? It’s enchanting and only more proof of your gift for the plants.”
Beaming at the praise, Rose followed the male through the halls to her favorite garden. Stepping out amid the lush and fragrant flowers, she breathed deeply. Though the sun was well to setting and dusk falling, pollinators buzzed about on the last forage. Frogs croaked from the pond, sitting on the lily pads or soaking under them.
“Oh, it’s heavenly out here.” Lifting her face, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of lilacs blown her way on the breeze. “When I was still the toilet maid, I dumped my buckets here as fertilizer.”
“Well, I daresay it worked.” The male chuckled. “You can oversee any part of the gardens you like, Miss Rose. I’ve received many a compliment on your arrangements.”
“I’m glad, and I thank you for helping me.”
“I’ve got to get back to it. You, too, I bet.” The male glanced at the vampires watching from the shadows. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. “You doing okay?”
Rose was startled at the question. “I’m perfectly fine, Tom.”
The male stepped closer, hesitant at the way the vampires did the same with eyes full of warning. “You tell me if you’re not. I may be a balding, overweight human, but I got a few connections. I could get you out of here.”
Rose gave him a reassuring smile. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you I am more than alright.”
Tom gave a short nod and then hurried away, eyeing the vampires. Rose watched him go but soon decided to weed. When the sun had set, she returned inside, doing whatever she felt as she came to it.
That was, until Mildred from upstairs made very loud comments about her special treatment turning her into a mighty snob. “Rose doesn’t do anything she’s assigned! I don’t think it’s fair for the rest of us to pick up her slack.”
Standing from where she’d been wiping down table legs, Rose turned to the young vampire. Wrapping her power more thickly around her, she met the glare of Mildred’s burgundy eyes. She dropped her rag in her bucket, wiped her hands on her apron, and asked, “Do I even stay upstairs, Mildred?”
Mildred chuckled and gave a smarmy smile. “Oh, we all know where you stay.” Some of the maids around them sneered and snickered at the implication that Rose was a whore.
“Then why should I be required to do your work for you?”
Mildred’s smile faded as whispers erupted. She looked down her nose at Rose. “You’ve never done your share.”
Rose took a step forward, and everyone else took a step back. Mildred held her ground, squaring her shoulders as if to prove her bravery.
“I have done more than my share.” Another slow step and Mildred lost some of her bravado, wary eyes glancing around at the other maids. “For months, I let you think you could get away with taking advantage of the lowly human slave.” Another step forward and the maids made a path for Mildred to retreat. “No longer. I am no slave. I belong to no one. I refuse to do your work for you.” Looking around at the maids watching, she pressed her point meant for them all. “If you think I am not pulling my weight, take it to Ms. Shea instead of fussing like a spoiled toddler. ”
Mildred’s pale cheeks turned an embarrassed pink, especially as there was more hushed whispering, but she gathered herself and stood tall once more. “You’re only acting this way because of them.” A pointed look showed she meant Tim and Horace leaned against the wall.
“No. They protect me from real threats. You’re just a bully, Mildred, and I won’t be pushed around anymore. I don’t need to use my Prince’s power to keep you off my back.”
Chattering erupted at her possessive talk, but Rose ignored it. With a wave of her hand, she gave Mildred a slight push—nothing more than a gentle gust of wind washing over her—but it had the desired effect of shocking everyone who felt it.
“I have my own power,” she announced.
There were murmurs and excited whispers, a few of the maids stepping closer to Rose. Horace and Timothy stepped closer too. The warning caused the maids to scatter. Mildred remained for a long moment before following them.
Rose went back to her duties, too, such as they were, humming as she went. After a time, Ciel skittered up her leg as the mouse and settled on her shoulders as the mink. Happily full having flown through the woods for his breakfast, he napped.
Having him close once more was a relief.
Gossip flowed around her while she cleaned, speculations on her relationship with Prince Adrian, and discussion of the Queen’s head butler who had been fired. No one knew why, but he was gone, and the King had replaced him with one of his under-butlers, which was strange because the Queen had staff.
She’d been holed up in her room too. Some said the King had locked her in because his staff guarded her doors. Others said he was protecting her from Mr. DuMont returning because he’d trashed her office, which had just been fully renovated as a result. Others said Queen Eileen and Mr. DuMont had been secret lovers and the King killed him in a jealous rage—the real reason for the office renovation—and then locked the Queen away as punishment for her infidelity. Still more said the Queen was in mourning because her butler had quit, and she wanted him back. The King, refusing to let a traitor return, held her to her room to keep from rehiring him.
Recalling the muscular vampire who’d been with the Queen yesterday when she’d been summoned, Rose thought it likely the situation was dark and dire. The King was more than capable of murder and locking his wife down.
It sickened her, and she was glad her Prince wasn’t like that.
Images of blood squirting from three slave traders’ throats danced in her head.
But then gossip turned to the werewolves and the war on the horizon, which made Rose’s heart heavier. The maids were happy about the King calling the kingdom’s males to act to meet the threat. They didn’t like the thought of so many risking their lives but believed it was for a just cause.
Leaning on the wall, she set a hand to her roiling stomach. Utterly let down and disappointed in the ineffectiveness of her efforts, she also felt betrayed by Adrian. Aldric was proven right, and she wondered if this was what it would always be like—Adrian making promises he couldn’t keep.
Especially as she heard of the romantic stroll he’d taken with Lady Julianna Clearwater after the Assembly. The two were seen cuddling in a copse of bushes, holding hands and whispering like lovers. Rose didn’t miss the glances aimed her way—both pitying and catty—and her stomach roiled harder.
And then talk turned to Prince Dimitri. Heart racing, her instincts screamed to run away, but then she heard the words hospital and die. Tuning in, she learned that Adrian had beaten his brother to within an inch of his life. Lying in the hospital, unconscious, he didn’t look good.
There were many theories on what had set Prince Adrian off, but Rose had stopped listening. She turned to Timothy and Horace, both of whom remained expressionless.
“How bad is he?” she asked.
“As bad as he deserves,” Timothy replied.
She considered him and then turned to stare down the hall, contemplating.
“Don’t do it, Miss Rose,” Horace warned.
Rose ignored him and started down the hall toward the hospital wing. She’d been there a few times, recruiting the doctors who’d helped her to help the slaves. It was a long walk, closer to the military grounds than the apartments and public areas of the palace, but Rose walked purposefully.
The halls were busier than she’d ever seen, and based on the words of the nurses she passed, the influx of enlistees was not taking to training well. It was more vigorous than normal and would remain so to prepare the soldiers for the wolves. Many males sported bruises and various cuts, abrasions, and sprains.
Catching a harried-looking nurse, Rose asked where Prince Dimitri’s room was and followed her instructions. The hallway where he was kept was guarded, but it was easy to convince the males to let her pass. Outside the Prince’s room were more guards who stopped her, sneering at Timothy. Timothy gazed back completely unbothered.
“We mean no harm,” Rose said. “I just want to see him.” They scoffed, so she stepped forward, letting her magic saturate the air around her. “I am a healer. I can help him. If he is as bad as I’ve heard, denying me would be stupid. ”
The two human guards bristled, but then shared a look and stepped aside to let her pass.
“Thank you.”
On the bed in the center of the room, Prince Dimitri was unrecognizable. His face was battered black, bloody with various cuts and abrasions. Other bruises covered his naked torso, some so dark and swollen she feared internal bleeding. Her hand twitched to pull the sheet covering his lower half down to examine the rest of him, but a doctor she hadn’t noticed stepped forward.
And then Prince Dimitri started convulsing.
“Seizure,” the doctor said, turning Prince Dimitri to his side. Fluid drained from the Prince’s mouth and nose, falling into the wastebasket beside his bed. “It is common with brain trauma.”
Without touching him Rose knew he would soon die if she didn’t do something. The doctor, wiping the Prince’s face with a sad and resigned expression, ordered a nurse Rose hadn’t noticed in the corner to change the sheet—Prince Dimitri had urinated blood.
Even there, over his abdomen and down his thighs, bruises bloomed.
Adrian had no injuries, which meant their fight had been one-sided.
Rose appreciated Adrian fighting for her honor. She loved him for standing up for her, unleashing on a tormentor. But she knew it would eat at him if his brother passed away due to him, no matter how angry or justified he thought he was.
And this male, the male who’d been against her since the day she’d arrived, seemed to her to be a tortured soul, taking out his inner anguish on those around him. He bedded maids to prove he was desirable in a home that did not desire him. He was always second to his brother, even though that brother had been born second, so he bullied those of lesser status to prove his worth.
Did Rose forgive him? No.
But he did not deserve death. Death was the end. Death was final. Willingly allowing him to enter that finality knowing she could have prevented it was unforgivable.
Even if he may not have deserved the second chance.
It was in her nature to always try .
So, she set her hands on Prince Dimitri’s chest, determined to do what she could. When there were sharp words from the doorway and a complaint from the doctor, Rose looked up at her guards. Timothy drew a long knife on the doctor, who held his hands up and took a step back. Horace did the same to the guard who’d entered the room.
“This is not a good idea,” Timothy said.
Rose gave him a warning look, and then the same to Horace. “Do not kill anyone,” she ordered before she turned her attention back to Prince Dimitri, letting her power wash over him and assessing the damage. “Fractured skull, brain bleed, broken brow ridge, broken nose, dislocated jaw, torn shoulder muscle, broken ribs, bruised kidney, ruptured spleen . . .”
Gods above, there was so much damage it was daunting. But Rose met the garnet and burgundy eyes of her guards.
“His life is not worth you hurting yourself,” Timothy said hotly. “He doesn’t deserve it.”
And that, Rose thought, was how most viewed the human Prince: not deserving. It saddened her because, for most of her life, she’d been undeserving too.
“Everyone deserves compassion, Timothy.”
Ciel walked down her arm and settled on the Prince’s chest near her hands, his amber eyes glowing as Rose bathed Prince Dimitri in her magic, sending it to sink into his head, the most traumatized area. First easing the swelling around his brain, she repaired the bleed, and then fixed the fracture in his skull. Taking her time, she healed very slowly because the brain was delicate.
Moving outward, she realigned the broken nose with a pinch of her thumbs. A quick flare of power had the bone reset. The broken brow ridge was next, and then she manipulated the jaw back into place. Several teeth were loose, so she fixed that. But she left the little cuts and contusions.
With her head throbbing dully, she focused on mending the broken ribs. It stole her breath, the sharp stab of pain, but she pushed on. Kidney next, and then the spleen.
It was all so much, and it felt forever long. Hours passed, and her well neared empty.
But with a final check that showed only light injuries that would heal with time, she gently extracted herself. Examining his body with blurry eyes, she was satisfied.
And then she fell into the table, her limbs weak and shaking. Searching for a source for her sudden cold, she realized her dress was plastered to her, drenched in sweat. As the room wavered, she realized Timothy held her. Glancing toward the cacophony of voices assaulting her ears, she discovered a crowd packed into the small room.
Prince Dimitri groaned, and though her head spun when she turned it, she focused on his fluttering eyes as they opened. Seeing her, confusion furrowed his brows. “Wha . . . What are you doing?” he asked thickly. When he tried to sit up, one of his guards pressed on his shoulder.
“Your brother beat you bloody, Your Highness,” the second Prince’s guard said, still holding him down. “You were dying. The miss here . . . I don’t know how, but she put you back to rights.”
“I couldn’t let you die,” Rose said weakly, wavering. Timothy held her tighter. Weakness was intolerable, especially in the presence of one who had treated her so terribly, but she trusted her guards to protect her. Not to mention Ciel the tiger ready to defend her to the end, even with his magic diminished as hers was.
Prince Dimitri stared and then sat up, glaring at his guard to let him, and looked over his body. “Why would you do this? I-I tried . . . I-I wanted to hurt . . .” He met her eyes again. “ Why ?”
With her vision blackening at the edges and her body going numb—a scary reprieve from the throbbing ache—she tried to hold on to consciousness. “You were terrible, but did not deserve . . . to die . . .”
Rose remained unconscious in Adrian’s bed beside Ciel for three days. They were guarded at all times. Lying as still as death, Adrian feared more than once that they’d slipped away. Only the slow and steady beating of their hearts, the deep and measured breaths, reassured him.
Over those days, he trained aggressively, honing his body and sharpening his skills. He refused to be run over by the wolves and needed an outlet for his tumultuous emotions.
For meeting after meeting discussing the war, he let his father’s people handle things. When he did voice his opinion, it was always in agreement with the King.
All the while, he planned.
And all the while, word spread in the palace of what Rose had done. Those who had witnessed Dimitri’s healing told the story to any who would listen. Many called it a miracle. Others said Rose’s power was a wonder .
Rumors spread that Rose’s magic was why Adrian had freed her—and also why he’d taken her as mistress, which he’d flaunted by traveling with her and keeping her guarded at all times. Her power was his, and many wondered what he’d do with it.
The slaves in the lower levels called Rose the Benevolent Maid, which quickly spread through the housekeeping and butler staff, who agreed that Prince Dimitri had been healed out of the goodness of her heart. They knew how Rose had been treated—reprimanded and bullied for no more than breathing since the day she’d arrived in Crimson City. Throughout, she’d remained sweet and good-natured, even taking the punishments of those who’d mistreated her.
Not only mistreated by palace staff, bosses, and fellow maids, word of Prince Dimitri’s nastiness also spread like wildfire. Begun at first by the doctor and nurse who heard him admit to it, the stories then snowballed, many throughout the palace adding how they’d seen the Prince watching his brother’s female or how he talked down to her. Cornered on more than one occasion, his acts of ruination, though grossly exaggerated, became well-known.
Yet, even with his ill-treatment of her, Rose had granted the human Prince more kindness than he’d seen even from his own family. For in his time in the hospital, he’d not been visited once. Pulled from the brink of death by one he’d hurt repeatedly, it was she who had cared for him more than his own blood.
It only added to the mystery and intrigue surrounding her.
It all pleased Adrian immensely. He let the speculations spread and even had his network adding more to heighten the awareness. By the end of three days, Rose was the main subject of gossip throughout the capital. She eclipsed even talk of the Queen, who remained in her apartments recovering from her sickness .
The King took it all in stride, but Adrian suspected his father was stewing.
Dimitri kept trying to steal a word.
Adrian ignored all of it.
For the time being.