“Maybe I could take up with his brother,” Magnolia muses. “Imagine that. Two royal sisters.”
“Not likely.” Lavinia shoots laser beams into the competition. “I’m going to be queen someday, which means you would be there to serve me. I’d get to tell you what to do, and you’d have to do it. Same with you, house bitch.”
“Maybe your job at the palace can be tending the fire,” Magnolia adds bitterly. “Since we know how much you love it.”
Fear licks at my throat, and warmth tickles the mangled skin on my arms where white-hot pain once singed my nerves. I can still feel it every time I see a flame, and much to their amusement, I’ve never fully recovered from the incident. But reacting would just give them what they want.
As far as I’m concerned, Lavinia can run off with her prince and take the whole lot of them with her. Even though the idea makes my chest feel weird, I refuse to give it too much thought. I won’t be going anywhere. In fact, it would be the best day of my life if they moved away.
“Do you think she’s gone mad?” Magnolia snaps her fingers at me. “She looks odd.”
“She hasn’t gone mad.” Lavinia sighs. “She’s just a moron, like you.”
I put away the broom and finish the rest of my chores for the afternoon, and by some miracle, I have an hour to spare before dinner. It isn’t much, but I know exactly where I want to go.
“Hello, Alfred.” The tiny kitten greets me with a head bop, purring as he nestles into my arms.
I find a comfy place on a hay bale in the barn, letting Alfred snuggle up against me as I close my eyes and soak up his comfort. People have often accused me of being too much of a bleeding heart when it comes to animals, but I can’t help who I am. Something about how these innocent creatures depend on us wrings every ounce of love and compassion from my heart.
My mother told me when I was young that when the world carries on around me, I should look for the magic. Love blooming between a new couple, the breeze stirring the leaves, a butterfly emerging from the cocoon. What she didn’t realize was she never needed to tell me because I inherited her empathic heart too. I see everything. I feel everything too, often much too deeply for my own good. It’s exhausting to live in such a shallow world when I can only ever swim in deep waters.
It has been many years since I’ve felt love. So long, I can’t even remember what that was like. I often find myself wondering if I merely dreamed about having a family who cared for me, but then I look into Alfred’s eyes, and I know that I am loved. When I’m here, feeding the horses or playing with the dogs or cuddling the kittens, nothing else in the world matters. And to me, these pets are my family.
I know they’ll all have to go to new homes eventually, and I’m heartbroken every time they do. But I’m also happy for them because they deserve the best, and right now, I simply can’t give that to them.
Tears streak down my cheeks, and it hits me all at once how helpless I feel. For so long, I’ve barely kept my head above water, and now I’m certain I might drown. I don’t have anything else to look forward to. I don’t have anything else of value in my life. This place is it. These furry babies and Olivia’s kindness in letting me be a part of it. And I’m failing them.
Last week, she told me again she can’t keep it up anymore. She’s trying to find other shelters for the animals because she can no longer afford to feed them, and she’s going bankrupt as it stands. Every source of funding has dried up, and my pathetic little fundraisers have only managed to buy a little food every now and then. It’s so depressing I can’t bear the thought of not having this place around anymore. It isn’t just their sanctuary. It’s mine.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do, Alfred.” I stroke his fur and kiss him on the head. “I wish more than anything I could take you home with me.”
He meows, and my heart shatters a little more. We might not have much longer together, but I’m going to cherish every moment we do. Curling up into a ball, Alfred and I both close our eyes, and I soak in his warmth as exhaustion settles into my bones. I should probably set the alarm on my phone. It’s the last thought I have before sleep swiftly carries me away.
9
Thorsen
From the shadows, I watch her sleep, the scraggly gray kitten curled against her like it’s his favorite home. He opens his sleepy eyes and blinks at me, dazed but completely unaware there’s a predator in his midst.
It’s been two weeks since the ball, and for the entirety of that time, I’ve been thinking about what I would find when I came back here. After doing my research, I concluded this was one of a handful of animal sanctuaries in Kent, and over the past few days, I’ve already been to all the others.
I came here with little hope. But there she was, asleep in the hay like the furry critters she seems so intent to protect. At first glance, I wasn’t quite convinced this is the same woman I chased from the ball. In place of the blue gown is a faded sweatshirt that looks like it’s on its last life and a pair of jeans two sizes too large for her slight frame. Her shoes have holes in them as well. Half of the rubber soles are worn off the bottoms. But beneath the grime and obvious exhaustion, her champagne hair and ivory skin are still the same.
As if she can sense me, her eyes snap open, and my heart beats wild, rattling its cage when she looks up at me in distress.
“What are you doing here?”
She cringes at the sight of me, and all the blood in my body courses toward my cock, reminding me how much I’d like to fuck that hate right out of her.
“I think you left something behind.” The heel dangles from my finger, and she eyes the glittering shoe with a nervousness that betrays her wish to escape this situation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “That isn’t mine.”
The vein in my neck hums. If there’s one thing I refuse to tolerate, it’s a liar, and I can’t figure out how in the matter of a few moments, she’s already sentenced me to her dishonesty.
“If it’s not your shoe, then you won’t mind me testing that theory.” I take a step forward, and she shrinks beneath my shadow.
“But why?” she challenges. “What does it matter one way or the other if it is my shoe?”
“Because you’re a little liar.” I glare down at her. “And I don’t have patience for liars.”
“I’m not,” she declares, shaking her head so righteously, I’m tempted to beat her ass black and blue right now to teach her a lesson.
“So, you’re telling me that you didn’t use a ticket with someone else’s name to gain entry to the ball?” I demand. “You didn’t lie to the palace guards, and me, about who you really were?”
Her face pales, and when I kneel before her, reaching for her leg, she tries to scoot away from me. My fingers clamp down around her ankle and drag her back, and she shrieks about the same time the kitten darts away.
“This won’t take long.” I pry off her pathetic little shoe and slip the heel onto her right foot. Sure enough, it fits like a glove, and she’s practically quaking with fear when she opens her mouth again.