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.
