CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The door to the Prince's private chambers in the West Wing slowly creaked open on its hinges, and his personal hearth keep, a petite blonde, Maria de Barreau, with elfin-like features and short-cropped blonde hair, as short as a boy's, slowly poked her head around the door, spotting her handsome Prince.
The Prince seldom left his precious palace or its grounds, save for occasional trips to Paris to dabble in court with the other dukes, lords, and their ladies. For him, all floors were marble, what else would they be? All stair rails were ornate mahogany, carved, and polished so that it shined. Family portraits were painted in oils and hung in gold frames. Furniture was all handmade by master craftsmen. Nothing ever got dirty.
He had never seen dust in his twenty some odd years of life. The air was scented with fresh flowers every day of the year, yet he had never seen a flower ever die or wilt. Food was always perfect and served precisely on time, but he had never seen a kitchen. Each room was as big as a house, and each came equipped with a tray of small silver bells, in case he should need to call for service.
Maria hesitated, stepping inside, opening the door. There he was. Silent like the shadow the hearth keep knew him to be. Prince Adam remained unstirred, his back facing to her, though she knew he heard her. The man had hearing better than that of the wolves that lived in the forest that bordered the edge of his familial estate. Maria took a moment to inhale the intoxicating scent of spiced wine, brick, and the smell of pinewood.
Judging by his posture, Prince Adam did not seem to be itching to rectify certain… 'needs' that he typically summoned Maria to his chambers for.
But that didn't mean that Maria didn't know how to set the man in the mood. She knew more than any of the other maids throughout the castle what he liked. Where to touch him, all the right things to say to cause the heat between his legs to overwhelm him, knowing the pace of her Prince's desires, his heart.
She was his favorite servant, out of all the man's prior 'hearth keeps.' Which was perhaps the only reason the blonde little maid was still breathing. Maria de Barreau was a beautiful woman, but only on the outside. She was highly practiced at seduction and had been ever since she turned twenty. With her pale, northern French looks and high cheekbones and good jawline, it was all too simple. Nothing so pretty could possibly harm you, right? Mostly, Maria just let the other men feel in charge, guiding the conversation with unnoticed prompts. It was oftentimes only seconds before her new target was practically jumping through rings of fire to please her.
Her face and just a little bit of cleavage could get her anything and anyone. No one knew how the blonde would take a rejection because it had never happened. Even her hair, which was shorter than most Parisian women that Maria knew, though last time she had seen her dear sister, Madellaine, the girl had also copied her older sister's movements and cut it off, keeping it out of the way and easier to work unencumbered.
Her hair, cut short in a pixie, wasn't that bland color that was just a shade nicer than the white of old age, but rather, it was streaked with warm reddish hues and butterscotch. It gave Maria some warmth, complementing her pale face rather than making her look washed out.
She was a siren leading everyone to sudden happiness. The beauty with the forever young ocean blue eyes. Maria was twenty-six, six years older than their newest 'guest' that had arrived but three or four nights ago to the castle. Old enough to assume the role of a maid and gain employment at the Prince's castle to avoid starving on the streets. She had practically begged her younger sister, Madellaine, to join her here, though the little whelp refused.
Her sister was deathly afraid of the Prince's brutality and fiendish ways, having heard the tales, the rumors in the taverns of Paris of how he was reportedly fond of 'pretty faces.' And oh, the things he did to those select few maids with 'pretty faces.'
All of them were true, though Maria did not understand why her Lena squandered this opportunity.
The Prince paid his servants quite well. So well, in fact, that it was more than enough for Maria to move out of the servants' quarters and into a home of her own at the village that bordered the edge of these woods, the same village, it was rumored, that this new little Belle came from. Though Maria adamantly refused, staying put.
She was not about to leave her precious Prince. Maria just couldn't.
Speaking of her Prince… the young blonde little hearth keep was jolted out of her musings as she looked Prince Adam's way. She took him all in. His regality.
He was seated in his favorite armchair, with his back facing her, his face towards the window of his chambers here in the West Wing. Adam seemed to be in an unusually somber mood today, which was rather unlike her Prince.
Lax and grim altogether. His head was resting on the knuckles of his folded arm, his elbow perched on the side of his armchair. To her, as unstirred and unflinching as he was, it looked as though Prince Adam was carved on this post, inanimate and sullen for God only knew how long he had been up here.
Long enough, the hearth keep surmised, for the various parchments on the table to have blown about the man's chambers in a state of severe disarray, all the cause of the wind which was breathing through the same window he was currently looking out of, long enough to have the candle in its prong be lifeless.
Maria de Barreau furrowed her light blonde brows into a sullen frown as she took a cautious, half-step forward and set down the tray that she had brought bearing a bowl of soup and a half-loaf of bread from the kitchens.
Her eye caught sight of a piece of parchment, its wax seal already broken, near the edge of her boot and she would have stepped on it had the paper not rustled due to the breeze, making a noise, which caught her attention. Her scowl deepening, Maria slowly knelt to the floor and picked it up. As much as she itched to read what the scribblings before her blue eyes meant, she couldn't.
The likes of her had never been taught to read by a maester or her sister. She was not exactly as well-educated and versed in prose and literature as the Prince's new 'guest', Belle de Dupont was if the rumors of her held true. This Belle was proving to be a prickly problem for Barreau. She was certainly fairer and prettier than her, and she could read and write, besides.
Maria was all too entirely interested in what vested interest the Prince held with a She-Stranger like Belle. One who, it was rumored, to be married to an accursed wretch, a demonic beast of a man who was more demon than man.
What the hearth keep had assumed to be a shadow as she crept towards the window, having to almost crane her delicate, swan-like neck to see what her Prince was regarding, took the form of a girl. But not just any young beauty.
Her. She was fully eclipsed by the shade of the wall of the gardens' borders, the rose gardens, but then she moved into the half-light of the winter morning, and there she was. Belle, in all her glory, in black mourning gown of velvet and lace, her pretty face shrouded in a veil, mourning the death of the wretch. Maria felt her lips curl upwards into a twisted sneer.
Whom does she weep for? Maria thought, her interest piqued, as she bit the inside wall of her cheek in contemplative thought. The wretch? That demon? Surely not.
What such beauty could see in a monstrous creature like her supposed husband was, for he was rumored to be the subject of talk throughout Paris.
The young hearth keep had not been back to Paris, to her home, in a few years now, not since she had last spoken with her sister, Madellaine, and begged her sibling short of fallen on bended knee and pleading with her to come with her, to let Father deal with his debts on his own, to make their own way in life.
Though she knew from gossiping tongues throughout the castle, courtesy of the Prince's other servants, that the man was rumored to be a creature of some wicked, vile curse. For his visage was such an unsightly sight to behold, most turned their faces away in shame or fear, not wanting to look it in the eye.
A hideous creature. The fair-skinned young blonde hearth keep felt her brows knit together in a quandary as she allowed her mind to wander to thoughts of the rumored hunchback of Paris's great Lady of Peace, Notre Dame de Paris.
Maria had heard many things about the mysterious, accursed wretch in question. Somethings good, but most not so much. She wondered how much of the tales were true, and which were falsehoods. If he had really attempted to save a Romani woman from burning to death on a pyre in the town square.
If how, when he had failed, he had attempted to take his own life, and was unsuccessful, given one of the nuns were rumored to have found him by the River Seine. A pity he did not succeed, Maria thought darkly, frowning angrily.
The topic, while a difficult one to maintain in conversation, was admittedly, to the young blonde hearth keep, somewhat of intrigue to her.
She could only imagine siccing the Prince's prized hounds on the wretch, watching as its skin was torn from its scalp, hearing the monster's screams.
Oh, such sweet, sweet bliss. It was as music to her ears, those hollers. Maria could only hope for such an opportunity come her way one day. If she should ever have the blessed fortune from God to meet the accursed wretch, aye, but how the young blonde longed to see the creature's lifeforce drain from his body, and the light leaves his eyes.
Maria heaved a sigh and set the mysterious piece of parchment down next to the tray upon the small wooden table and took another step forward. The petite little hearth keep made well sure her footsteps were audible.
"My Prince, here you are," Maria murmured in a seductive purr, her voice adapted by confidence, given her rank here in the castle. She was acknowledged the moment Prince Adam's head slowly swiveled to the side, his knuckles slowly parting from his head as her Prince turned to look at Maria. Maria realized she had been holding her gaze too long as she too, looked out the window, and the young blonde felt the color drain from her face as it blanched.
The Prince's face was one of an arrogant triumph as the man smirked, with Adam not even having the decency within him to be considered embarrassed.
But then again, why should he? There was nothing whatsoever that was considered romantic between the two of them. All he did was bed her nightly. Used her to satiate his more carnal, baser desires.
And Maria liked it. So far, as Maria joined Prince Adam in their shared listless staring out the window of the East Wing upon the Prince's latest obsession, this strange material of beauty, whenever Maria's inquisitive, cobalt-blue orbs landed on Belle, the hearth keep allowed herself to hate this new young woman, this She-Stranger.
She felt nothing for the brunette whenever the girl's face wore a forlorn expression, one of sadness, feeling angry if she resembled anything that was even remotely close to happiness, though considered she mourned for her 'husband', Maria had yet to see Belle smile, and Maria plainly aimed to keep it that way.
Maria bit down hard on the inside wall of her cheek and then her tongue as she craned her neck to look out the window, watching, and though the thick veil worn over the young woman's face made it nigh impossible to make out the details of her face, the young blonde liked to imagine her face crumpling.
Tears pouring down her eyes and running down those pretty cheeks of hers. Suffering. Though Maria could not currently see the girl's brown eyes, she had caught glimpses of the young woman meandering throughout the castle.
Always with Monsieur Cogsworth or Lumiere, never to wander alone.
She could tell the tension that controlled Belle's face had always been a part of her life. Were someone to take that away from her, and likely the auburn-haired beauty would reinvent it simply to keep her status quo.
Belle Dupont was a woman of nobility and regal bearing, everything that Maria hated because she knew that she would never have it as a lowborn.
Belle's high, delicate cheekbones, small nose, luminescent dark brown eyes like a bar of rich chocolate, creamy smooth pale skin like whipped cow's milk, and silky dark brown tresses that cascaded down her back in gentle waves. She was rather petite and dainty, standing at around 5'2 if Maria had to hazard a guess.
The Dupont girl had a slender, curving waist, which was more than many women around these parts could claim, Maria included among them, and that was just another reason for hating Belle Dupont so damned bloody much. She had childbearing hips, whereas Maria, unfortunately, did not. Maria took all of Belle's appearance in and drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as the girl slowly lifted her veil. Just her black velvet gown embroidered with gold brocade at the dress's scoop neckline and at the edges of the long flared trumpet sleeves would feed her for a whole year, and she didn't particularly like how her soft, ivory shoulders were exposed and the girl's dark brown hair fell down her back in graceful waves. Her lips had been carefully tinted red, and her pale skin was flawless.
Yet another reason to hate the wench, thought Maria meanly. The hearth keep watched as Adam had a strange look in his eyes. A glance, it should be noted, that Maria longed to see whenever she came to his chambers.
The man had such a look of lust there. The hearth keep watched in silence a moment at that beautiful face. Well defined, with a sharp jaw and angular cheekbones. The complexion of his skin going well with his ocean-like eyes. He looked down for a moment, pouring himself a goblet of wine and bringing the alcohol to his slender lips, studying Maria intently. The burning sensation pouring down his throat, creating a warm feeling deep inside his stomach, similar to how she felt when she was with him. When he was inside of her. And now, they could be together again.
God, she missed him, though it had only been a few days since their last rendezvous.
"Found you," Maria repeated, slowly closing the door behind her, and coming to stand in front of his armchair.
"Wasn't hard, was it?" he growled, his fingers curling into claws around the arm of his chair. He paused and looked at her as she began to undress, stepping out of her dress and shift and letting the garments fall to the floor at her feet, stepping out of her clogs and straddling his lap.
She tugged at his jerkin and shirt, struggling to remove them, pushing him hard back against the chair. He sank down into the cushion of the chair, letting out a groan as she shifted and ground against his thighs, still continuing her act of straddling his hips. He moved to stand as if to get up from the chair and leave her, but Maria pushed him back down.
"Maria, what in God's name do you think you're…?" he snarled, but she did not give him a chance to answer as she kissed his lips. She was momentarily surprised as she felt Adam tense and stiffen at the gesture and felt herself relax as his hands came up to her neck and found purchase in the back of her hair, tugging out, eliciting a startled gasp of pain from her.
"That hurt," she pouted playfully, though there was no mistaking the teasing sheen that danced across her cobalt blue eyes that always used to ignite that familiar flame of fire within Adam's ice-cold glacier blue eyes. She pulled away slightly, pulling back to study Adam's face, to look into his eyes.
He smelled of pine and wood, though there was no disguising the thick stench of a bloodbath, how when she parted her lips and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss, the coppery tang and its taste settled and lingered on her tongue. She wondered if the current object of the Prince's desires was as much of a prudish wench as the hearth keep suspected this Belle to be.
Maria, however, was not. She would do anything Adam asked of her so that he wouldn't tire of her like he was bound to with Belle Dupont.
Their lips fitted together perfectly—as if they were meant for each other. Moving against each other, feeling each other. She let out a whimper of pleasure as she felt Adam grab the back of her neck, growling in the kiss as Maria let out a moan, shifting against his thigh.
Adam groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck, biting at the tender skin there, hard enough to draw blood. "No," he growled, his voice becoming clipped and hard. "Maria…no…Belle, she…" he murmured lowly into the shell of her ear. Maria stiffened, ceasing her movements, Adam still fully clothed.
She let out a growl and wrenched herself off his lap. He just stared up at her, mouth agape in shock and…utter rage.
"A—are you sick?" Maria demanded, her cheeks high with color and pink. She took a few stumbling steps backward, brushing her palms on the skirts of her dress as she dressed quickly. "I knew it," she breathed, feeling her dark eyes grow wide and round with shock. "You fancy her? You want her! Admit it!" she demanded, pointing a shaking finger in Adam's face. She flinched as Adam slapped her hand away. Maria seethed, completely done with this behavior.
She walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. When he turned away from the window to look at her, she connected her hand with his cheek, to which he responded in kind with his own hand raised in a fist to hers.
The slap was as loud as a clap and stung her face. It had been an open-handed smack and it had left a red welt behind. Just below her right eye was a small cut where one of Adam's rings had caught her. Maria staggered backward, clutching her face, eyes watering with unshed tears.
"Get out," he growled, no warmth or semblance of the usual charm in his voice that he usually reserved for their time spent together. "Now."
Maria felt her jaw lock up and tense, and she ground her teeth in anger, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. "I know you, you will not hurt me, my love." She swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat, and cupped Adam's chin in her hand, tilting it up sharper than perhaps she would have liked, for she could have sworn she heard a neck muscle pop. She watched, as one of his veins began to throb.
The hearth keep's eyes widened as one of his strong hands came up to grip the column of her throat and squeezed.
"Did you not hear me?" The Prince snarled angrily, teeth bared in anger, hackles raised like one of his hounds. Maria desperately clawed at his fingers with her hands, trying to get him to relinquish his grip on her throat. "Am I just not getting through to you anymore, Maria?"
"Please…" she choked out hoarsely. "S—Stop…" Usually, the sound of her begging sent a fire to his groin, though today, it only seemed to fuel his wrath even further, and she watched as a light ignited in his eyes.
So, Adam was finally unfaithful to her. Oh, she knew he bedded other women, of that he had never been discreet, nor had she in taking other men, but she had thought their bond immune until the Dupont girl came sauntering through the gates of the Prince's castle, unwillingly or not.
Piling reproach after reproach upon himself, Adam was about to add Maria to his growing list of past brutalities. And this was the beginning of the end. Maria was more than maddened, and she coughed, gasping for air as she felt his grip on her throat slackened and violently shoved the hearth keep off his lap, looking thoroughly disgruntled. But…she…loved him. She cared for him.
Maria blinked owlishly as the realization hit her full force. Wait, that's not what she wanted to say. She had made excuses for Adam's behavior time and time again. And now she knew the truth. That he did not care for her in the way that she had secretly hoped.
Maria had given him all that she had and more, but he never even acknowledged it. He was stopping all of their rendezvous. For her. Maria felt an incredible welling in her chest as fury felt like it was pouring out of her every orifice at what Adam had almost done to her.
"You do not care for me, my love, do you? Tell me the truth," she whisper-hissed, clenching and unclenching her fists by her sides as her arms fell, not knowing what to do. Maria was just a placeholder for someone that was taking her place. Except the Dupont woman was going to marry her Prince. Be his wife.
I'm nothing to you anymore, am I? Maria thought, unable to voice that thought. She stuck out her bottom lip in a slight pout.
One look over at Adam was more than enough for the hearth keep. I hate you. And I miss you. And I hate you. And I miss you. These conflicting thoughts were swirling around in Maria's head, and she felt dizzy still, though she still supposed that was from her violent coughing spell as she clutched at her throat, still gasping for much-needed air. She drew in a sharp breath of air that sent swells of pain down her back and lifted her chin to meet Adam's gaze.
By God, he really was a bastard, wasn't he? She swallowed nervously, thinking now how goddamned unnerving it was to see the eyes of a snake glaring at her from a human head, one bereft of affection, devoid of conscience at all. Over the course of their…relationship, if she could even call what they had that anymore, Maria had watched Adam's work' many times, the powers that be (namely him) finding it useful to make her watch, sometimes even helping, whenever he beat and flayed a prisoner. Adam seemed to only ever smile when cutting someone, his emotions otherwise cold throughout.
That man did not need to be afraid to kill or any semblance of self-defense. Causing pain was his addiction and bedding as many pretty girls as he could, though it would seem the widowed twice young brunette currently walking through the rose gardens of his castle, had gotten the Prince's attention already, and for that, Maria hated her.
By God as her witness, she loathed her. Over the years, Adam had become part of the bedrock of Maria's personality. And now…this.
It would have been kinder if he had just killed her, and since he hadn't, Maria was now going to be forced to be this person filled with a trace of bitterness for both Dupont and that she would not be able to control.
Belle was to be Adam's wife, the mother of any children they might sire together. The girl Adam had met all those years ago hiding in the kennels while she watched the young boy work with his hounds, beasts, every last one of those accursed creatures, the one with the big blue eyes and curious mind now felt herself being consumed with a hatred Maria never knew could take root in her mind. But here it was.
Here they were together, and Adam was finished with her, it would seem. Maria would be forced to be one of that whore's maids, braiding her hair, helping her dress, fetching her water for a bath, bringing the two of them meals…trying not to imagine them together.
All the while the hearth keep would be forced to smile and make small talk with that woman. The hatred Maria felt for Belle—for both of them—didn't ebb, it multiplied. Maria swallowed past the lump forming in her throat, finally after an eternity spent in silence, found her voice again.
"Your bride really is quite a pretty little slip of a thing, isn't she? Very delicate." Maria let out a low growl from the back of her throat that didn't sound very menacing and instead came out as more of a low demure purr. "I saw you staring at her. At Belle." She could hear the jealousy and envy and insecurity drip from her words like poisoned honey.
Maria's scowl deepened, creating lines upon her forehead and a deep groove near the edges of her mouth as Adam rolled his eyes and sighed, wearily rubbing his temples as though the hearth keep's incessant lines of questions were giving him a splitting headache. Good, she thought meanly to spite Adam.
"She's to be my wife, Maria. I'm going to marry her on the morrow. That involves looking at her from time to time. As well as ...other things." There was no mistaking the tone of lust and longing in his voice. His tone was clipped and hard and rapidly losing his patience as he grew annoyed with her questions.
Other things?! What other things?! Maria scowled, biting her tongue. Maria's next question that burned on the tip of her tongue seemed to tumble out of her mouth before she could manage to restrain herself. "Do you think she will enjoy it? Sleeping with you, that is," she growled.
The hearth keep watched as the man's dark-haired ebony head whiplashed upwards, blue eyes silently seething in his anger. Maria could feel her heartbeat pound in her chest as she looked at him, hardly daring to believe what she saw that lay therein in his eyes.
Fear. The feared and reviled Prince, this bastard, that Beast, was…afraid. Afraid of a little girl who could read. The irony of it all.
She froze, not daring to move, though Adam had gestured for her to leave, and she felt her feet moving of their own accord, taking one step towards the door, then another, though her mind was screaming at her to turn around. She felt frozen to her spot. Heart pounding in her chest.
The paralyzing hurt at what Adam was initiating spread through Maria's body like icy liquid steel. She clenched her fists as she hesitantly took each step forward, inching ever so closer to the door. Maria noticed her feet trembling and her legs twitched, fighting the impulse to whirl around, and hit the bastard who was ruining everything.
The hearth keep felt her throat close up in threat of screaming at Adam bloody murder, feeling trapped and hopeless. Her jaw clenched and became tight, her teeth grinding together in anger. Fires in the form of water stung her sky-blue eyes, threatening their attack.
Maria bit her lip, casting one last lustful, longing glance towards the Prince, who had turned away from her and was staring out the window at something, though at what, Maria had a feeling she could guess. Her. Salty blood lingered on her tongue as she clamped down.
The hearth keep felt her brain pick up her feet in an unbalanced gait, carelessly dropping her feet to the ground with each harrowing step. Her stomach felt full of stones, and the thick acid of her stomach layering coated at the back of her throat, and she thought she might vomit. Adam had grown bored with Maria at last.
And she was helpless to do a thing about it. That was all. Still, something about the forlorn look in the man's blue eyes prompted her to ask one final question, one last taunt to the man who had ruined everything with one simple choice word. Her name.
"Do you think that she could ever grow to love you? This Belle? Or will she be afraid of you?" Maria growled, biting her bottom lip until she felt the blood coat her tongue and the edges of her teeth. "Hmm?" She folded her arms across her chest and watched, feeling a sick immense of satisfaction as Adam startled.
He clearly hadn't been anticipating her question and it had thrown the bastard off-guard, which was what she had been intending all along, and she was pleased to see him jump. "Just get out." His voice cracked, wavering.
Maria sneered, masking her hurt with a look that she had perfected over the years. A look of 'perfect impassiveness,' if it pleases you. She slammed the door to his chambers on the way out, loud, and hard enough that it rattled the doorframe, though Maria hoped it was enough to rattle his stupid brain in his stupid, thickheaded, dim-witted skull. Anger at the Dupont wench boiled deep in the hearth keep's system, as hot as fire and just as destructive, if not more.
It churned within, hungry for destruction, and even Maria knew it was too much for her to handle. The pressure of this raging sea of red that she felt pounding at the back of her skull would force her to say things to others that she did not mean, or to express her true thought that she had been suppressing for weeks.
Maria knew she had to get out of everyone's way before she likely erupted in her furious state. She hoped in time this feeling would pass, but as long as the Dupont woman was married to Adam, it would linger.
She was well aware she could really hurt people in her agitated state.
So, she escaped. She ran towards the edge of the woods that bordered the Prince's estate, that place of peace.
Maria allowed her swirling vortex of hateful thoughts towards the Dupont wench and Prince Adam to consume her, relishing the curse words that poured from her tongue, spewing from her mouth like black putrid bile.
The Wolves Woods was the only place that she felt like she could really truly just…let go. Of everything. The hearth keep allowed the darkness of the wooded canopy above her head swallow her whole for a little while, and her hatred coursing through her bloodstream for Belle Dupont strangely enough, in its own way, calmed her from head to toe.
Maria felt like she was slowly emerging from the rage and anger she had possessed only moments ago, and once she reached the heart tree, that gorgeous old willow tree, Maria stopped and glanced up at it. That luscious bark with the five-pointed blood-red leaves and sap. She glanced up at the tree in all its beauty and felt as though the magnificent thing was slowly allowing the anger that she felt to dissipate from her, and Maria did not deny that at least, for the moment it felt nice.
Maria felt calmer than she had before. Maria felt…free. Feeling the beginnings of a wicked smile curve at the corners of her lips, she hummed a little ditty in a low tune she'd heard old Mrs. Potts sing in the kitchens the other night while she brewed a nice cup of tea to take to their distinguished 'guest'.
Maria knew what she to do to be rid of Belle Dupont.