Chapter 10

The sickly sweet smell of roses welcomes me. Rose gardens quickly encircle me, all neatly hemmed in by vibrant green hedges. The gravel walk that winds through the courtyard is dotted with trees that offer protection from the sun's rays. I start to move while attempting to relax and even out my breathing.

Something blue twitches on the dirt path as I move. Glancing down, I see a small blue bird flying wildly as the other hangs helplessly by its side.

My heart aches, and I cup the small bird in my palms before I can stop myself. It snaps at the touch, defending itself by pecking at my hand, but I immediately quiet it and draw it in closer to my chest.

"There, there. I'm not going to hurt you," I'm whispering. The bird's beady eyes pop up to examine my face, pit less and black. Even still, as I gently prod the wing, it stops resisting and instead holds still, and I feel a small sense of trust in it.

It's broken, broken exactly like my nose probably is. But unlike a bird's wing, my nose is not an essential component of my body. I look at the bird and all residual fury evaporates, along with a wave of guilt. Perhaps this isn't the worst day ever after all.

I place the bird down on a hedge and look around for anything to make with. I really have no choice but to create a sort of splint and cross my fingers. If all goes according to plan, I can return during lunch breaks to feed the bird. As I collect twigs off the ground, I smile at the thought. I rip off the frilly sleeve of my blouse and pick up the bird when I get back to it. It is still staring at me with those pitiful eyes. I wrap the material around the bird's body and insert the sticks for support, and to my surprise, it remains remarkably calm. This will prevent it from using its wings, but at least it will give it an opportunity to heal. It still has legs, after all.

A voice from behind me asks, "You were supposed to have returned ten minutes ago. What are you doing?" as I'm about to tie up the material with a knot.

I flip around in shock, forgetting everything about the bird I'm holding. 

Prince Kohl stares right through me. His complexion is so pale it seems a touch grey, and his hair has a naval shine that practically sparkles in the sun.

I am at a loss for words once more. Only the ones whirring around in my mind's voice are audible to me when I maintain eye contact with Prince Kohl. How was my absence detected by Prince Kohl? Will I end up in even greater difficulty than I am now? How in the hell do I respond to his inquiry?

Rather, I remain silent. I guess that's the correct response, because Kohl points in my direction and remarks, "You know, it's not very smart to purposefully pour water on your master."

"It was an accident," I blurt out too soon.

Kohl flashes a smile that's not at all endearing; rather, it resembles a serpent shaking its tail and serves as a warning. "Do not lie to me, dear. I watched you do it."

I stop talking. Was Prince Kohl observing me? But the questions go from my head the instant he cocks a neatly styled brow and his eyes shift to the bird in my hands.

"What are you doing with that thing?"

I remark, almost forcefully, "It is not a thing," then I realize who I'm talking to and soften my tone. "It's a Common House-Martin. It has a broken wing so I'm trying to help it."

His tone is sarcastic, "You're trying to help it. How sweet." I frown and bend over to tuck the bird under the hedge. Even though I know I should be terrified of him, he's definitely getting on my nerves right now. His gaze once more meets mine. "But there is no point in helping such doomed creatures. They will never lead fulfilling lives with ailments such as that. You are just being a hopeful idiot."

It takes me a while to realize that his remarks have two meanings. I say, "There is nothing wrong with being kind. Maybe you should try it sometime," out of anger before I can stop myself.

He snips back, "And why would I do that?" "Kindness is weakness. Kindness is for the weak, so I suppose it makes sense why you practice it."

I'm furious. Before I even have a chance to reconsider, I speak. "At least I don't sleep with the first woman who gives me the doe-eye, you shallow prick. I pray for the girl who ends up with your conceited ass; I don't think I've ever met a man more one-dimensional than you." 

He just looks at me for a time, obviously stunned. Before I can react, he draws himself up to his full height, but I can see by the momentary flash of wrath in his eyes that the insult hit.

"This is no way to speak to your future king—"

"Well, your highness, you don't seem to think I'll live long enough to see you become king. I guess that makes us two hopeful idiots." Stillness. Kohl just looks at me, slightly perplexed. I quickly bow and head out before I say anything else that would get me killed.

I curse myself as I turn to leave. I've never spoken so loosely before. I'm right, I think as I'm walking; if I keep talking to the prince in this manner, I won't survive long enough to see him ascend to the throne.