The moment I get to my feet, the wetness gushes from me, and I push Skarth, desperate to get inside.
He doesn’t stop me, but with my back turned, he whispers, “I’m sorry for whatever it is I did.”
I don’t reply. I can’t because I am the one who should be apologizing, not him.
However, now I must go to my chambers before anyone sees me.
I run from the stables, each step I take confirming my worst fears. When I enter through the back door of the kitchen, I don’t explain why I’m here, not that they would ask. They simply go about their chores, ensuring the king’s table is never bare.
When I enter the hall, the burning candles illuminate the red droplets trickling onto my shoes. I run past the guards, who don’t ask questions, and the moment I enter my chambers, I slam the door shut. Turni
