Slowly I open my eyes, feeling sluggish yet more relaxed than I have in days. There’s nothing like the endorphins created by a few orgasms to relax both body and heart. In my defense, the little sleep I’d had the night before definitely contributed to my exhaustion. I turn my head but don’t expect to see Thom—I vaguely remember him kissing me gently and murmuring to me about another meeting before hearing the door click shut. The memories of Thom’s talented mouth and fingers wringing such pleasure out of every inch of my body begin to fade as the fog of sleep blows away. Thom had made multiple assurances that he would not marry Callista and we’d be together no matter what, but if being king meant you got your way in everything, Stephen wouldn’t have run away. Still, I want to believe Thom, so I push the doubt to the back of my head.

I stretch out my body cramped on the sofa and glance at my watch. And then shoot straight up, gasping in horror at the time. Holy shit! I’ve been in the library for hours—fuck, Thom should have woken me up instead of letting me nap!

Muttering curses while I scramble to pull my clothes back on, I glance wildly around to make sure the room looks tidy enough. I spy a couple of sadly squashed cushions on the ground and grab them and plump them up before placing them back on the sofa (thank god there aren’t any visible stains), and quickly make for the door. Thom had thankfully locked it after him, so after sticking my head out and making sure the hallway is deserted I very quietly close the door behind me. And only then do I realize my mistake—I’d gone out the main library doors, not the hidden one in the back used by the servants. Fuck!

Quickly I turn the doorknob only to have it resist—I try the handle again and still no luck, and no amount of my increasingly desperate rattling budges the door. Shit shit shit. It must have locked behind me.

I close my eyes and gently thump my forehead against the door, trying to think through my options, which are sadly limited. From the library there’s no way to access the hallway back to the staff quarters without using the main, very public, staircase. I’ll simply pray that not only do I not run into anyone but also that the security guards will have something better to do than to wonder why a maid was upstairs in the public spaces after being very specifically told to stay downstairs today.

“Pen? Is that you?”

OMG. It’s Mrs. Holloway, the absolute last person who should be catching me in this state. I stiffen my spine and plaster on a demure smile, prepared to brazen my way out of this situation. I turn as she walks towards me along the long hallway with a puzzled frown on her face. I watch as the frown turns into a fierce scowl as she scans me head to toe, and too late I realize that my hair is mostly out of its regulation bun. Too late I remember Thom tugging the knot free so that he could run his fingers through my hair. As I glance down at my blouse I see several buttons misbuttoned despite my best efforts. My faces burns, and though it’s from mortification rather than residual pleasure I’m sure it adds to my overall slutty vibe. I don’t need a mirror, just Mrs. Holloway’s face, to know that I look like I’ve been thoroughly fucked.

When Mrs. Holloway speaks, her voice gives me frostbite. “Do you care to explain yourself, Pen?”

Oh God, what can I even say? There’s no way I can tell her about Thom—if a story about us leaked right after Stephen’s abdication the scandal would rock both Crown and country right to its core.

Despite how mortified I feel I meet her icy gaze squarely. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Holloway, it’s not what it looks like.”

“What it looks like?” Mrs. Holloway’s voice gets even icier if possible. “What it looks like is you’ve been fornicating in the Royal Library after I told you to clean up in there. Are you telling me that isn’t what happened?”

My entire face is burning hot, but I can’t lie to her. “All I can say is that I’m so very sorry and I promise it will never happen again.”

She barks out a laugh. “It will certainly not happen again because you’re fired.”

My heart feels like it’s going to explode. Fired? Kicked out of the only home I’ve known? To leave Thom? “Please, Mrs. Holloway, please give me another chance,” I beg.

She looks at me like I’m dirt, her lip curling in disdain. “Of course I’m not going to give you another chance. You’re lucky I’m not throwing you out immediately. You may have two weeks’ notice as is your due. Please go to your quarters. For your benefit I won’t tell Waverly or the other staff members the cause of your dismissal. I suggest you not bring it up either. It will only hurt you to talk about it. Now get out of my sight.”

Tears fill my eyes and all I can do is nod. Maybe in the next two weeks I can convince her to keep me on. There’s no one that knows this place as well as I do.

I move to walk past her down the hall, but she reaches and grabs my arm. “Where do you think you’re going? You know to use the back stairs!”

“The door is locked,” I point out.

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Mrs. Holloway reaches for her keys and unlocks the library door. I open and slip inside, ready to find my room and bury myself in my bed for oh, the next decade or so. But before I can escape, Mrs. Holloway says, “I hope you know how disappointed I am in you, Pen.”

I duck my head in shame. “Yes, I know.”

“I had such high hopes for you, I really thought you had what it takes to be head housekeeper after I retire. I thought you were better than your mother, but I guess in the end, blood will out.”

I spin around. “What did you say?”

It’s one thing to call me out for screwing around on the job. That was wrong and I deserve my punishment, but to insult my mother who has been dead for five years?

The housekeeper tilts her chin upward and looks down her nose at me. “I said that you didn’t fall far from your mother’s scandalous tree.”

I step toward Mrs. Holloway. “My mother was a saint. Say what you want about me, but keep my mother out of it.”

“You should have kept your legs together if you didn’t want to sully your name.”

This sanctimonious prig! How dare she? “One more word about my mother and you’re the one who is going to have to avoid uncomfortable questions,” I say through clenched teeth.

Alarm floods the older woman’s face. “Are you threatening me? Consider your two-week notice revoked. Get out!” She points a quivering finger toward the back of the house.

“Gladly.” I hurry away to the hidden door and the back stairs, hoping I won’t fall down the stairs since I can’t see for the tears of anger and unhappiness blinding my eyes. Mrs. Holloway was out of line to say that, but she’s right—I’m the illegitimate daughter of a house maid who flew too close to the sun, like Icarus. Like my mother. Blood will out.

Despite having lived in this small suite my whole life, I don’t have a lot of things I own. Much of the stuff in my room belongs to the royal household. The furniture, the art on the walls, even the pots and pans in the small kitchenette were supplied by the monarchy. The only things that I really own are my clothes, the books that Thom had given me and a heavy gold pendant my mother wore under her uniform every day. I should’ve sold this years ago.

All but the books fit into one bag. Part of me wants to take those books while the other part of me wants to leave them behind so that Thom can be reminded of me every time he sees them. I slip the necklace over my head and opt to make a decision about the books at a later date.

Zoya comes flying into my room just as I’m zipping my suitcase closed.

“I just heard you quit!” my friend exclaims. “Mrs. Holloway came down to make the announcement. Is it because of the wedding?”

“Not exactly.” I avert my red eyes and pretend to be busy with my pile of uniforms. I won’t need these outside the royal grounds. “I got caught outside the library.”

“That’s why she fired you? That’s bullshit.” Zoya screws up her pretty face. “She can’t fire you over that. Let’s go talk to Waverly.” Waverly’s technically the head of the entire downstairs, but Holloway does all the hiring and firing of the wait and maid staff.

Zoya’s halfway out the door in her rush to defend my honor. I drag her back in and shut the door. “No, that’s not why she fired me. She caught me doing the walk of shame.”

“The walk of—Ohhhh,” Zoya’s eyes grow big with understanding. Then a sly smile spreads across her face. “What’s so shameful about getting worked over by big Thom? You should be proud of that. He’s a prince. It should be a strut walk.” She places her hands on her hips and sashays around the room.

I laugh in spite of my shitty mood. “I am proud, but Mrs. Holloway puts a different spin on it. Besides, she doesn’t know that it was with Thom. I couldn’t tell her, the timing would hurt Thom.”

Zoya halts and waves her hand. “You have two weeks, right? Mrs. H will come around. This place can’t run without you. The second she has to ask one of the chambermaids to redo Thom’s bed because they use the wrong pillowcase or someone can’t find the platter that the King of Sweden gave at King Gerald’s fiftieth birthday, she’ll be crawling back on her knees.”

“I wish,” I sigh. “It’s not just that I got caught. I might have threatened her, too.”

Zoya’s jaw drops. “You threatened the old battleaxe? I would’ve paid good money to see that.”

“I’m not thrilled I went there,” I admit. “She made some shitty comment about my mom and I lost it.”

Zoya comes over and drops an arm around my shoulders. “That sucks. But, look, you can’t leave. We need you here and Mrs. H knows it. Stay out of her way and eventually, she’ll forget she fired you.”

“Maybe.” I pause then because the faint whir of helicopter blades reaches my ears. Zoya and I rush to the window in time to see a chopper land on the west lawn. Royal Guardsmen rush out to open the door that is emblazoned with the crest of Callista’s family. The Duke of Frederick, her father, emerges followed by his wife, Adina. I stare at him for a long moment before I force my gaze away. Out of the corner of my eye, a procession of dark-suited men and women appear with a sober-looking Thomas leading the way. He stops in front of the duke and makes a short bow.

I hold my breath. Did Callista’s parents come to take their daughter back? Has Thom already severed the marriage contract? The duke raises his arm, but he doesn’t swing it at Thom. Instead, he curves it around Thom’s shoulders and drags my man in for a hug.

That’s not the action of a father who has been told his daughter has been jilted. That’s a father welcoming a new son into the family.

The boulder reappears in the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” Zoya says quietly.

I slump back and lean my head against the wall. “Or maybe it’s for the best that I leave.”