Page 23 of Scarred
So, I’ll go find my little doe.
If only to get off on her hate before I toss her to her king.
CHAPTER10
Sara B.
There must be a dozen different kitchens throughout the castle, but the one I’m in now is the largest.
Before coming to Saxum, I’ve always been free to roam where I please—within reason—and then retreat to my room and bask in the solitude. But now, the only time I get to myself is in my bed at night.
I never realized how insane it makes me to be surrounded by people.
It’s now been four days since I’ve seen or heard from my husband-to-be. And while my mind should be focused on the future and everything I came here to accomplish, I’m finding it… difficult. But not for the reasons it should be.
I can’t even sleep without visions of Prince Tristan making his way into my chambers and forcing me onto my knees, except this time for adifferentreason.
It’s disgusting. Not because I’m a stranger to the act—although if anyone knew of my dalliances, I most likely wouldn’t be sitting here—but because out of all the people I’ve met in my entire life, I’ve decided Prince Tristan must be the worst.
Him invading my dreams is an unfortunate turn of events.
Earlier, while playing bridge in my sitting room, Ophelia recommended an afternoon nap, no doubt noting the deep circles beneath my eyes. I took her up on the offer, although I wouldn’t be using the time to catch up on sleep.
Instead, I grabbed the opportunity and made my way here, hoping to find someone working in the kitchens. I want to meet the people who are the true eyes and ears of the castle. Ingrain myself in their loyalty, so when the time comes, I can depend on them. And that’s how I ended up sitting at a large metal table in a room the size of a house, with Paul, one of the castle’s cooks, banging on pots and pans while he makes me tea and an afternoon snack.
“Honestly.” Paul wipes his brow, his auburn hair held back beneath a netted cap. “You’re gorgeous, milady, but your pretty eyes make me nervous when you watch me like that.”
I smile, tapping my nails on the table’s top. “No need to be nervous, Paul. I like your company already.”
“You do?” he asks, spinning around from the stove. “Of course you do. I mean—” He huffs before throwing his arm across his belly and bowing at the hips. “Thank you, milady.”
Amusement bubbles in my chest. “You know, you don’t have to be so proper when it’s just the two of us.”
“Forgive me.” He smiles. “I’m not used to royals coming down here to socialize.” He walks toward me, plopping a plate down on the table and gesturing toward the dish.
I grin back, leaning across the metal surface. “Well… I think you’ll find I’m not quite like the other royals.”
“Technically,” a smooth voice cuts in. “You’re not a royal at all.”
My spine bristles, every single hair follicle standing on end as Prince Tristan appears out of nowhere, his lips tipped up in that infuriatingly lazy grin, his eyes zoned in on me.
Paul gasps, dropping to a knee. “Your Highness.”
“Hello, Paul. Keeping our soon-to-be queen company?”
Surprise flickers through me. I hadn’t expected him of all people to be on a first name basis with the servants. Most people aren’t.
“So what if he is?” I cut in.
He turns to me, his eyes flashing. I sit straighter in my chair.
“Then I suppose he’s the lucky one today, isn’t he?”
My stomach flips as he steps in close. “Always in places I shouldn’t find you, aren’t you, little doe?”
My shoulders straighten. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know the people who breathe life into the castle walls.”
His brows rise. “I agree.”
