Chapter 13

Belle's POV.

Her heart stops.

She tries, really tries hard not to let the disappointment show. Keeps her face neutral, pretends not to notice the Prince's gaze and just forces her attention back to the flowers.

She has no right to be upset...right?

A kiss isn't a big deal.

Back home, people kissed random people, strangers, hooked up in bars all the time. So why should it matter that the prince kissed her?

And really, who is she fooling?

Here she's not Belle Layton anymore. No longer the hot young heiress that had the world in her palms.

Here she's just Isabella.

A maid.

And Darian is a prince.

The heir to the Moonveil throne.

A powerful Alpha.

How in hell does she expect anything to fester between them? To come out of that?

Still, it doesn't stop the pang that sprouts from her chest.

She lowers her gaze, happy that Miss Stella at least returned early this morning, and at least she wouldn't be as lonely anymore.

The queen had sent her on a special assignment... to escort a private delivery to a neighboring city. And since they don't have cars here, it did take them several days to go and return.

Apparently, it's not the first time it's happened. In short, Miss Stella had even seemed a bit surprised when Belle asked about her whereabouts.

She'd noticed the injury too, and as one of the head maids, only assigned her to lighter tasks like cutting a few vegetables, trimming flowers... things she most probably wouldn't even be assigned, if not for the ball tonight.

The ball.

A ceremony for Prince Darian's potential mates to present themselves, trying to entice the Prince of Moonveil, showing off their different talents or arts.

Her eyes drift up again. The girl is no longer in his arms, but she's still too close for 'casual', casting knowingly glances, twirling her hair like she's doing it on purpose.

Belle studies her carefully.

She's beautiful. But more than that, she looks like she belongs by the Prince's side. Her skin tanned but smooth, confident...someone clearly raised in wealth.

Belle looks down at her maid's uniform unconsciously, and the contrast jabs her hard in a way she isn't willing to admit.

The overwhelming need to return home hits her with full force now. She doesn't even realize her shoulders are slumped until Miss Stella nudges her.

"Are you okay, Bel?" Miss Stella has a nickname for her too, she only realized that this morning.

She nods quickly, trying to light up. "I'm fine, thank you."

The older woman once again flashes her a skeptical look at the polite tone, but says nothing and returns to trimming the flowers.

Belle becomes aware that Prince Darian still hasn't left. She can still smell him, and can still feel the lingering heat of his gaze.

Her brow furrows. What is he trying to prove?

Trying to shove it in her face how easily other women crave his attention?

Well, she's not like other girls! She's not them.

She’s doesn't care, just wants to go home.

That's what she tells herself.

The jealousy floods her veins without permission, hot and blinding. She's standing before she can stop herself, ignoring the pull in her injured leg as she limps away from the small groups and toward another part of the garden.

She doesn't make it far before she hears her. Miss Stella. Belle is surprised the woman even followed, guilt building at the way she'd walked away.

"Bel?" She calls out, voice calm but firm.

Belle stops right in front of an overgrown shrub, fingers flexing around the big scissors before she turns to face her slowly.

The older woman stifles a smile, too observant, already knowing from the moment the Prince had stepped in close.

"Where are you going?" she asks, when she reaches her.

"Nowhere," Belle says quickly. "I just…I thought it would be better to spread out."

Miss Stella just hums, coming to stand next to her as the voices behind them shift, growing more distant.

Belle feels it before she sees it. She feels the Prince's gaze move, his scent growing lighter and lighter as he walks away.

She doesn't mean to look, but her head turns anyways, right in time to catch his retreating figure disappear past the hedges, his dark cloak brushing against the stone path.

The other women follow behind, talking and exchanging soft whispers as they slowly drift out of her line of sight.

Belle rolls her eyes at the group, before snipping at an overgrown stem too hard.

Miss Stella chuckles. ".... you're not very subtle," she says calmly, not a hint of judgment in her tone. In fact, she says it like it's not the first time she's seen someone act like this around the Prince.

Belle exhales loudly, forcing a small smile that comes out awkward. "I don't know what you mean."

Miss Stella doesn't address it again. Instead, she gently unhooks the scissors from Belle's grip, before setting them aside.

"Walk with me." She says. Her voice is soft, but Belle can tell it isn't a request.

Belle is hesitant, but follows nonetheless.

They move toward a quieter part of the garden, away from the other maids, and for a moment it's quiet between them.

Until Belle breaks the silence,

"Ummm..Miss Stella…?" she starts softly, already determined to find out a bit about the real owner of this body..

The older woman hums at her, turning to face her fully.

Belle licks her dry lips, contemplating how to bring it up without sounding suspicious. "I wanted to ask you something."

"About?"

Belle hesitates again, choosing her next words. "…about me."

This earns her Miss Stella's full attention. She studies her for a beat, before nodding slightly.

"Go on."

Belle looks down at her toe, the scar from the fall still etched as a reminder. "I- it might sound weird, but I've been forgetting things." She swallows the lump forming. "I- like this morning, you were expecting me to know about the Queen's errands." She meets the woman's eyes. "But I just couldn't... I didn't remember."

The woman watches her with drawn brows, the silence stretching long enough that Belle starts to panic internally.

Did she say it wrong?

What if the woman realizes that something is off?!

She looks away, already bracing for rejection before the woman clears her throat.

"You've been truthfully… different," she says slowly.

Belle's heart skips. Of course she has. she's not the same person..

"I thought it was the Accident,” the older woman continues, "Or maybe the assignment you were given before I left."

That catches her attention. Her head snaps up again.

Accident?

She forces her face to remain neutral. "What assignment?" She asks, hoping Miss Stella doesn't notice the way her voice cracks around the edges.

Could it be the reason for why she ended up here.

"Do you remember now?" She asks, more quietly now.

Belle swallows slowly. "N-no. Not really."

The silence doesn't stretch as long this time, before Miss Stella sighs softly.

"You didn't grow up in the palace," she starts at last. "You were brought in a few months ago. Quiet girl. Kept to yourself."

Belle listens closely as the woman continues.

"No family here, at least none that you spoke of. Just confused and messing all your assignments up." Miss Stella chuckles softly at the memory, and Belle finally understands why no one has been surprised by how clumsy she's being these past days.

She tries again. "And friends? Do I, did I have any?"

Miss Stella's lips press together.

"…No. They felt like I was being a little unfair with you." She shoots Belle a look. "And between me and you, they're not quite wrong."

It makes Belle smile a little. "Why?"

"I don't know." Miss Stella replies honestly. "I just... I felt drawn to you."

Belle understands that bit at most. She doesn't know Miss Stella either, but she feels drawn to her. Calm in a way she never thought she would after James' betrayal.

She nods slowly. Now it makes sense why the other maids didn't like her.

She is bad at the job, yet got favors.

She exhales, shoulders sinking slightly. "…Thank you." She means it. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Miss Stella studies her again, eyes narrowing just a bit. "And Bel?"

She looks up.

"Be careful," the older woman mumbles, voice low. "This palace isn't kind to girls like you. To people like us.”

Belle doesn't need to be told twice. Her eyes unconsciously drift back toward the direction Darian had disappeared.

"I know," she whispers.

"That's why I need to find a way home." This part, she mutters under her breath.