Page 13 of A Court of Masks and Roses
“My life in the crown prince’s shadow is soooo very painful,”a younger woman whispered back, emphasizing each vowel.“I’ve been unable to eat a lemon tart in days.”
Don’t listen.Don’t listen.Don’t listen.Violet closed her eyes and tried to shut out the maids’ words. She really did. The servants always talked. It was a fact of palace life.
“Tell me again why we are rubbing our hands raw cleaning the floor of a sitting room that no one uses?” the first woman asked.
Violet put down the little knife and slid off the bed. Padding over to the door leading to the sitting room, she cracked it open.
The two maids working there rose to their feet and sank into deep curtsies at once. One was in her mid-twenties, the other only a couple years older than Violet herself.
“Is all well, Your Highness?” the older one asked. She wasthe one who’d just complained about cleaning a useless room. “You are looking a mite pale, if I may be so bold as to say so. Perhaps I might fetch you something to eat?”
“No, thank you,” said Violet.
The woman frowned. “Then perhaps some fresh flowers? We were just talking about making your sitting room more jovial. I think a nice bouquet of—”
“Actually,” Violet interrupted, “I was thinking of how little use this room sees. Do you think we should adopt a different cleaning schedule for it? Something that makes better use of your efforts?”
The women exchanged tight glances. “Are you displeased with our work, Your Highness?”
“No.” Violet retreated a step. “I just thought you’d prefer to be elsewhere. You are welcome to stay if you’d like. Please, do what you think is best.” She shut the door quickly and leaned against it. On the other side of the wall, silence reigned for several heartbeats before steps and voices resumed in barely audible whispers.
“Did she just . . .?”
“Threaten our jobs? Yes.” A sigh. “When you’ve never wanted for something in your life, it’s simple to toss others around.”
Violet clicked the lock closed and returned to her bed, wrapping a scarf around her ears as she sat cross-legged again. Reclaiming her little knife, she used it to pry the lid off the wooden box beside her. With the cover off, Violet reached inside for the bits of sewn chocolate-colored velvet. The half-complete body of a stuffed puppy.
She was much too old for such useless nonsense as sewing plush animals. Especially with no children around to whom she might gift the toy when she finished it. But she couldn’t help it. Sewing tiny toys was a craft she’d learned from hermother. The last craft she’d ever learned from her. And, sitting alone with needle and thread, the wonderful little animals were the one thing—other than a potential heir—that Violetcouldcreate. Not that a kingdom that needed anything but her womb much cared.
Violet’s eyes began to sting. She wanted her mother. The one person who had loved her, who’d put her arms tightly around her and whispered kind words. Who would never,everlook into her eyes again.Stop crying, you baby, Violet ordered herself. Three months had passed since her mother had died in childbirth, together with a stillborn baby brother who was perfect. Three months, and Violet could still scarcely draw breath.
A tear slid rebelliously down her cheek. Then another. While Wil was busy scaring the living daylights out of his own guard and wrapping their father around his finger, Violet had only their mother’s memory and her own impotence for company. It wasn’t enough.
STOP CRYING.Swallowing, Violet rolled up the hem of her dress to expose her thigh. Milky white skin, crossed with thin pink scars. Her fingers tightened around the knife handle. It was the one thing that she knew worked.
Another tear fell.
With no more thought, Violet slid the blade’s edge across her thigh, thick droplets of red blood trickling from the cut. She looked at the red droplets and focused on the burning pain that was so much easier to bear.
Violet was takingsome air in the courtyard when the palace bell chimed its hour and her guard detail exchanged grateful gazes at the approaching end of their shift. Violet bored them. She was about to turn her back on the men and return to hersuites when she spotted Luca taking a shift in her evening detail and halted her steps instead.
“Good evening, Highness,” he said, coming up beside her. Tall, kind, and always smiling, Luca was the only one in the guard detail who bothered speaking to her more than protocol required. Like Violet herself, Luca lived in the shadow of his perfect partner, Trace, and although they never spoke of it, Violet was certain he felt the same subtle connection between them that she did. Something special. Though Luca unlikely spent his time sewing plush puppies by candlelight. The sudden thought nearly made Violet burst into giggles.
Luca grinned. “What shall you have us do this evening? Swordplay, perhaps? Or shall we go hunt boar?”
Violet did giggle then, her cheeks heating. Her mind raced for something appropriate, something feminine and delicate and dignified. “Embroidery,” she blurted, realizing too late that this would logically keep her inside while Luca remained outdoors. She cleared her throat. “Outside,” she amended quickly. “It’s such a nice evening, don’t you think?”
“I’m no embroidery expert,” said Luca slowly, “but does that fine task not require light?”
Idiot. Violet was an idiot. No. She could fix this. Would fix this. “Of course it does,” she said, smoothing her dress. “Which is why I’d like to walk to the Temple of Dansil. The Eye is so bright there, I can stitch by its glow.”
The walk to the temple was longer than Violet had expected, and she cursed herself for not having thought of taking a carriage, as they did when attending the weekly service. But walking beside Luca was worth it, especially when he offered her his arm. Arriving at the temple courtyard, Luca led Violet to the central fountain, where little stone benches surrounded a likening of the Goddess with her hands cupped lovingly around a devout young man’s cheeks.A reminder that everything the Goddess does comes from love.
Violet sat, putting her basket beside her. When she looked up from sorting her materials, her heart sank. The area outside the temple was safe and well illuminated, so Luca and the other guards had taken up posts on the perimeter of the courtyard, while Violet remained alone on her bench. Luca wasn’t even looking in her direction. She’d walked here for nothing. Worse than nothing. She was making a mockery of herself, sitting alone by a fountain like an old man. And she hated embroidery.
She lowered her face as if busy. The temple courtyard had fair foot traffic despite the late hour. Holy guardsmen striding in perfect unison, even when there were just two men walking together. Acolyte boys speaking softly. And... girls. Girls walking arm in arm, whispering in each other’s ears, laughing softly at shared secrets.
There were so very few girls at court—almost none Violet’s age. And they all kept their distance from the royal princess. Not that there was much for them todotogether. Violet was a princess. No one ever let her forget that. No, convenient temporary ignorance of royal blood was reserved solely for her brother’s antics.
