The Favorite (Page 9)

“Do you want some food, fiancé?” I asked.

Carter grinned. “Oh, thank you, fiancée, but I’m actually kind of tired.”

“All right, fiancé. Why don’t you sleep for a bit?”

“I’d sleep better if my fiancée was with me.”

And then, forgetting I’d been hungry at all, I wiggled my way onto the tiny bed, half hanging off the edge and half squashed beneath Carter. It was shocking how easily I found sleep.

PART II

I FLEXED MY HANDS OVER and over. They had finally healed, but sometimes when I had a long day, my palms swelled and throbbed. Even my little ring was pulled too tight tonight. I could see where it was fraying on one side and made a mental note to ask Carter for a new one tomorrow. I’d lost count of how many twine bands we’d gone through, but it meant a lot to me to have that symbol on my hand.

Picking up the scraper again, I scooped the loose flour off the table and into the trash. A few other members of the kitchen staff were scrubbing floors or putting away ingredients. Everything for breakfast was prepped, and soon we could sleep.

I inhaled sharply as a set of hands wrapped around my waist. “Hello, wife,” Carter said, kissing my cheek. “Are you still working?” He smelled like his job: cut grass and sunshine. I had been sure he would be stuck in the stables—somewhere he would be hidden away from the eyes of the king—just as I’d been buried in the kitchen. Instead, he was walking around with dozens of other groundskeepers, hiding in plain sight. He came in at night with the outdoors hanging on him, and for a moment, it was like I’d been outside, too.

I sighed. “I’m almost done. After I tidy up here I’ll come to bed.”

He nuzzled his nose into my neck. “Don’t overdo it. I could rub your hands if you want.”

“That’d be perfect,” I crooned. I still loved my end-of-the-day hand massages—maybe more so now that they were given to me by Carter—but if my day ended well after bedtime, it was a luxury I typically went without.

Sometimes my thoughts got stuck on memories of my days as a lady. How nice it had been to be adored; how proud my family was; how beautiful I felt. It was difficult to go from being constantly served to being the one constantly serving; still, I knew things could be much, much worse.

I tried to keep the smile on my face, but he saw through it.

“What’s wrong, Marlee? You’ve seemed down lately,” he whispered, still holding me.

“I really miss my parents, especially now that Christmas is so close. I keep wondering how they’re doing. If I feel this sad without them, how are they managing without me?” I pressed my lips together, as if I could mash the worry out of them. “And I know it’s probably silly to care about this, but we won’t be able to exchange gifts. What could I give you? A loaf of bread?”

“I’d love a loaf of bread!”

I giggled at his enthusiasm. “But I wouldn’t even be able to use my own flour to make you one. It’d be stealing.”

He kissed my cheek. “True. Besides, the last time I stole something, it was pretty big, and I got more than I deserved, and I’m already happy with what I have.”

“You didn’t steal me. I’m not a teapot.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Maybe you stole me. Because I distinctly remember belonging to myself once, but now I’m all yours.”

I smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Don’t worry. I know it’s a difficult season, but this isn’t forever. And we have a lot to be grateful for this year.”

“We do. I’m sorry I’m so down today. I just feel—”

“Mallory!” I turned at the sound of my new name. “Where’s Mallory?” a guard asked, coming into the kitchen. He was with a girl I’d never seen before.

I swallowed before answering. “Here.”

“Come, please.”

His voice was urgent, but the fact that he said please made me less frightened than I would have been otherwise. Each day I fretted more and more that someone would tell the king Carter and I were living secretly in his home. I knew that if that ever happened, the caning would seem like a prize instead of a punishment.

I kissed Carter’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

As I passed the girl she gripped my hand. “Thank you. I’ll just wait here for you.”

My forehead scrunched in confusion. “Okay.”

“We’re all counting on absolute secrecy,” the guard said as he led me down the hall.

“Of course,” I answered, though I still didn’t understand.

We turned down the officers’ wing, and I became even more confused. Someone of my rank shouldn’t be allowed in this part of the palace. The doors were all closed except for one, where another officer was standing just outside. His face was calm, but his eyes were worried.

“Just do your best,” someone said from inside the room. I knew that voice.

I pulled myself around the threshold and took in the scene. America was lying on a bed, blood streaming out of her arm while her head maid, Anne, inspected the wound and the prince and these two guards watched on.

Anne, not breaking her gaze, barked orders back to the guards. “Someone get some boiling water. We should have antiseptic in the kit, but I want water, too.”

“I’ll get it,” I offered.

America’s face perked up, and she met my gaze. “Marlee.” She started crying, and I could see she was losing her battle with the pain.