The Favorite

“I’ll be right back, America. Hold tight!” I dashed to the kitchen, grabbing towels out of the cupboard. There was water already boiling in a pot, thank goodness, so I poured some in a pitcher. “Cimmy, you’re gonna want to top off this pot,” I called in a rush, moving too quickly for her to protest.

Then I made my way to the spirits. The best liquor was kept close to the king, but sometimes we used brandy in recipes. I’d mastered a brandy pork chop, a chicken with brandy sauce, and a brandy–whipped cream for desserts. I grabbed a bottle, hoping it would help.

I knew a thing or two about pain.

I came back to Anne lacing thread through a needle and America trying to control her breathing. I put the water and towels behind Anne and walked over to the bed with the bottle.

“For the pain,” I explained, lifting America’s head to help her drink. She attempted to swallow but coughed up more than she actually drank. “Try again.”

I sat beside her, steering clear of her injured arm, and tipped the bottle again to her lips. She did a little bit better that time. After she swallowed, she gazed up at me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

My heart broke to see her look so scared, even though she was safe now. I didn’t know what she’d been through, but I was going to do my best to make it better. “I’ll always be here for you, America. You know that.” I smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. “What in the world were you doing?”

I could see the debate in her eyes about answering. “It seemed like a good idea” was all she said.

I tilted my head. “America, you are full of nothing but bad ideas,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Great intentions but awful ideas.”

She pursed her lips as if to say she knew exactly what I was talking about.

“How soundproof are these walls?” Anne asked the guards. This must be their room.

“Pretty good,” one answered. “Don’t hear too much this deep in the palace.”

Anne nodded. “Good. Okay, I need everyone in the hall. Miss Marlee,” she continued. It had been so long since anyone besides Carter had used my real name that I wanted to cry. I didn’t realize how much my name meant to me. “I’m going to need some space, but you can stay.”

“I’ll keep out of your way, Anne,” I promised.

The boys backed into the hallway, and Anne took over. As she spoke to America and prepared to stitch her up, I couldn’t help but be impressed with how calm she was. I’d always liked America’s maids, especially Lucy, because she was so, so sweet. But this made me see Anne in a whole new light. It seemed unfortunate that someone who was so capable in a crisis couldn’t do more than be a lady’s maid.

Finally Anne began to clean out the wound, which I still couldn’t identify. America screamed into the towel in her mouth, and though I hated to do it, I knew I had to pin her down to keep her still. I climbed on top of her, focusing most of my effort on keeping her one arm straight.

“Thank you,” Anne mumbled, pulling out a tiny black speck with some tweezers. Was that dirt? Pavement? Thank goodness Anne was thorough. The air alone could leave America with a nasty infection, but it was clear that Anne wasn’t going to let that happen.

America screamed again, and I shushed her. “It’ll be over soon, America,” I said, thinking of the things Maxon had told me before I was caned and the words Carter had spoken as it was happening. “Think of something happy. Think about your family.”

I could see she was trying, but it clearly wasn’t working. She was in too much pain. So I gave her more brandy and continued to give her sips until Anne was finished.

When it was all over, I wondered if America would even remember any of this. After Anne wrapped the wound in a bandage, she and I stood back and watched America sing a children’s Christmas song while drawing imaginary pictures on the wall with her finger.

Anne and I grinned at her sloppy movements. “Does anyone know where the puppies even are ?” America asked. “Why are they so far away?”

We covered our mouths, laughing so hard we were crying. The danger had passed, America was taken care of, and in her head there was a puppy emergency.

“Let’s maybe keep this to ourselves,” Anne suggested.

“Yes, I think so.” I sighed. “What do you think happened to her?”

Anne tensed up. “I can’t begin to even guess what they were doing, but I can tell you for sure, that was a gunshot wound.”

“Gunshot?” I exclaimed.

Anne nodded. “A few inches to the left and she could have died.”

I looked down at America, who was now poking her cheeks with her fingers, seemingly just so she could see how it felt.

“Thank goodness she’s all right.”

“Even if she wasn’t my lady, I think I’d still want her to be princess. I don’t know what I’d have done if we lost her.” Anne spoke not simply as a servant but as a subject. I knew exactly what she meant.

I nodded. “I’m glad she had you tonight. I’ll go get the boys to take her back to her room.” I crouched beside America. “Hey, I’m going now. But you try not to break yourself again, all right?”

She nodded sluggishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She definitely wouldn’t remember this.

The guard who had come for me was standing at the end of the hall, keeping watch. The other guard was sitting on the floor just outside the room, fidgeting with his hands while Maxon paced.