Swearing loudly as my door closes behind me I grab my right wrist and hold it to my chest. My hand is shaking and beginning to ache from punching Bobby.

I flick on the lights and look down at my knuckles. Examining them closely I swear again. In mere minutes my hand has already begun to swell and I can't move my fingers. 

"Kennedy?" I call out. "Hello?"

There is no reply. My room is empty, Kennedy is probably still downstairs helping clean up the mess left in the wake of wedding guests. Still holding my right-hand limp by the wrist I walk into the bathroom.

I turn the tap on and let cool water run down my hand. My skin is hot to the touch. I winch when I rotate my hand to fill my palm with the clear liquid. After letting my hand bask in the cold water I go to wipe it off.

As I'm wrapping the towel around the back of my hand pain shoots up and down my hand like hot wax was poured on my bones. I cry out, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I pull my hand close to my chest.

"Isn't today just great?" I mutter to myself as I walk out of the bathroom. 

Undressing poses another challenge. I'm unable to flex my right hand at all, so after it takes me four minutes to undo my zipper with my left hand I have to shimmy out of my dress while pushing it down with one hand. Which is entirely ineffective. 

After kicking off my shoes I stand in front of my closet in my undergarments. I select an oversized flannel nightshirt. 

As I slide the sleeves on I look down my front to realize my shirt has buttons. After groaning very loudly with my head thrown back I shake the sleeves from the tips of my fingers and slowly bend my pointer and middle fingers. 

It's slow going but I am able to fasten all of the buttons with minimal swearing and tears. 

"Not to pry, but is there any particular reason it just took you seven minutes to button your shirt?" Kennedy stands in my doorway with their head cocked. 

"See for yourself," I whimper. Holding out my hand Kennedy walks forward and takes it into their palm gently. 

"What did you do?" They whisper. 

"I punched my brother." Kennedy's head snaps up. "In the face." They drop my hand. "On his wedding day."

Kennedy turns around in a circle emitting a low murmur. "Oh my land, Emmalyne! You did what?"

"If you had heard what he's done you probably would have punched him too," I say defensively. "He messed up my trail. He made sure the Court was going to dismiss Logan. The bastard."

"But I thought you were-" Kennedy begins. 

I hold up my good hand stopping them short. "Logan was the best option in my, situation. I could've been happy with him, but now we'll never know. Because of Bobby."

"We can talk about him later," Kennedy says picking my hand back up. "I need to take a better look at this. Go sit down."

They point to my bed and I am forced to comply. I sit on top of the duvet with my legs folded beneath me as they rummage in the cabinet in my bathroom.

Coming back Kennedy grabs my hand and inspects it more closely. They go to bend my ring finger but I flinch back, air hissing through my teeth. 

"I'm sorry," Kennedy says quickly. "I don't think you have any fractures, but I want to tape your fingers just to make sure."

I reluctantly hold out my hand as Kennedy tears off a strip of white medical tape. They bind my pinkie and ring finger together. Once it's finished I can only move the top knuckle of my ring finger. 

"There," Kennedy says putting the medical supplies. "You're going to want to keep that iced and elevated. I'll send for some. Please try and get some rest, it's been a long day, and tomorrow with Logan-" Kennedy's words trail off. 

I raise my eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Just try and get some rest," Kennedy says. 

They turn to leave and before I know what I'm saying I called after them. "Kennedy, wait!"

They stop and turn to look at me. "Is something wrong, Princess?"

"No-" Why did I call after them? "I just, I don't think I can be alone right now." 

Kennedy turns to fully face me, with their head cocked. "Princes, I don't know if that's entirely appropriate."

"Please?" I beg. 

Princesses don't beg.

Kennedy walks up to the foot of my bed and looks down at the kelly green fleece blanket that they must have dropped across the duvet just this morning. 

"Well sit down," I say my voice tired. 

Kennedy begins to speak but the words die in their mouth. "As I said, all due respect, I'm a servant. There are rules if anyone saw you treating me as your equal-"

"I'm changing the rules!" I interrupt. "Sit!"

Kennedy tentatively sits on the edge of the bed, their feet still firmly placed on the ground. 

I can't help but laugh. "Kennedy! You're impossible."

"I've never really done this before!" Kennedy cries. "This job has been my life since I was twelve. I haven't had much time for making friends."

"And you think I have?" I scoff. "I've been a little busy preparing to lead a kingdom. The only friends I've ever had were Prince Philip and Prince Travis."

"That's two more than I ever had." Kennedy retorts. "Emmalyne, I'm sorry if you don't realize this, but you are a full-time job."

"I am not!"I cry out. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Really?" Kennedy counters, crossing their arms. "If you can tell me where I found that first aid kit right now, I'll believe you."

I don't know that. Kennedy knows I don't know that. "That's not very nice." I finally say.

"That's not an answer to my question," Kennedy replies. They lift their feet from the floor and cross their legs, facing me from the opposite end of the bed.

"Okay fine!' I concede throwing my hands in the air. "I don't know! Are you happy?"

Kennedy laughs. I've never heard them laugh, it's nice. "Very."

"So we've established I can't take care of myself," I state. "Can we move on now?"

"And talk about what?" Kennedy askes. "How your siblings can't take care of themselves?"

I scoff and wave my hand. "Please, I already know my siblings are helpless. What about you? Do you have any siblings?"

"Oh, I probably shouldn't," Kennedy murmurs rubbing their neck, "I've already broken so many rules-"

"Ah-ah-ah!" I slice my hand through the air, stopping them short. "Indulge me." 

Kennedy sighs. "I have two older brothers and a younger sister." 

"What are their names?" I prod.

"Okay!" Kennedy slaps their fist down on the bed cover, "I definitely can't tell you that!"

"Why not?"

"You're the princess, all you would have to do is type their names into some database of the entire kingdom and their information to find them! Then you could find me!"

"I didn't know citizens knew about the database," I mutter. 

"AHA!" Kennedy exclaims. "I knew it was real; Sawyer owes me ten points!"

"Who's Sawyer?" I question with my eyebrows perked.

Kennedy groans, realizing their mistake. "Sawyer is one of my brothers. It goes Spencer, Sawyer, me, and our sister Cherry." 

"Cherry?" I ask. 

"Don't" Kennedy shakes, their head shuddering. "I was told her conception involved cherries, I've never run out of a room so fast in my life."

I throw my head back and laugh. "Sounds like an intriguing story." 

Kennedy shrugs. "Would know, as I said, I didn't stick around to hear it."

"Do your siblings work in the castle?" I ponder. "Because I know servant work is the same as the royal line when it comes to jobs."

"Yeah," Kennedy nods, seemingly unbothered by my uncensored use of the words 'servant's work'. "Spencer is one of the window washers, Sawyer works in the stables, mostly with the horses, and Cheery is next in line to be a nanny. So if Lady Geneive and Prince Robert have a daughter Cherry will take care of her."

"And your parents?"

"My dad washes the clothes, and my mom chops the fruit in the kitchens."  

"Weird," I whisper. "Out families have been in the same place our entire lives. Yet mine doesn't know yours exists." 

"Oh, your grandfather knows we exist," Kennedy says, their tone dark. "Some of the servant families that work here are new, but the ones that have been in the castle since reconstruction are enemies of your grandfather."

"What?" I whisper. "My grandfather doesn't have enemies. He led the nation into peace and prosperity, there's no way he could have enemies."

"Well, I suppose he wouldn't have told you." Kennedy muses. "After the war was over some people didn't agree with the idea of saviors. Thought we should go back to democracy, others thought that your grandparents were the wrong people for the job. My grandmother was one of them."

"That doesn't make any sense," I say. "My lessons told me that the original saviors were chosen because they each lead a battalion that ended the fighting."

"That's only half of the truth. Where their final battles stopped the war they were still corrupt with power. They had been leading the rebellion for a long time. They thought that power should transfer over into the new world. Most people agreed with them. Those who didn't have two fates, becoming servants, or the Exile."

"Oh my God," I whisper, "I never knew. What- What did your grandmother do? My grandfather couldn't have done that to her for just speaking out against him." 

"I don't know," Kennedy shakes their head. "She never talked about it. Some say she had a connection with Queen Kelly that King Daniel didn't like, others say she was vying for power. Whatever the truth she became a maid."

I shouldn't be surprised I didn't know this. There is always a side of history people don't want to remember. But my grandfather forced his political enemies into submission by making them slaves to his royal court? 

That's low, even for him. 

"Why don't you hate me?" I ask looking up at Kennedy. "You could be the one who lives in a place and I would be the one folding your clothes. Don't you loath my family for taking the chance of ruling from yours?"

"Oh I used to hate you," Kennedy readily admits."But I was naive and twelve. I didn't know anything."

"Wait a minute!"I say holding my hand up. "Back up. Did you just say you hated me when you were twelve?"

Kennedy chuckles. "People of the Court often forget that servants are life-long assistants. From the day a prince or princess turns ten they are given a servant, that servant could be ten as well or thirty-six. It varies. But we stay your servant until one of us dies."

How is there so much I did not know? 

"It's the same for me," Kennedy continues. "I was twelve when I was assigned to you. As a twelve-year-old, I was spiteful towards the entire Faust family. But as I spent time with you I realized you were so bad. You're a little stuck up and you went through a pompous phase when you were fourteen. But I don't hate you. You're going to be a good queen."

"Oh," Of all the explanations I was expecting that was not one of them. "Thank you, Kennedy. You're a good servant. The best a princess could ask for."

"I'm glad," I can't see it, but I think Kennedy is smiling. "Besides my family would be terrible rulers. It's good to know we make good palace staff."

Laughing to myself I look down at my hand, the pain has lessened to a dull throb. I don't regret punching Bobby, but I do regret hurting my hand. 

"Does it hurt?'Kennedy asks, suddenly becoming my servant again. "I can get you some medicine." 

"No, it's fine," I answer. 

"Then what's wrong?" 

"I have no idea how I'm going to tell Logan he has to leave," I whisper. "I was so sure it was going to be him."

"Well, traditionally speaking, a guard is usually sent to dismiss a person who has been deemed unfit for a royal marriage. You don't have to do anything." Kennedy replies.

"I can't do something that heartless." I gasp. "I'm not some insertive jerk like my father. I respect Logan too much to just send him away without saying goodbye. I'm better than that." 

"Of course," Kennedy says hastily. "I wasn't implying anything. I was simply saying that if you think it would be too hard for you there is a second option."

"Don't fret, Kennedy," I say. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to marry a man at all."

"Oh, um..." Kennedy fiddles with their fingers. I've made them uncomfortable.

But what's the point of having a servant who knows your secret if you can't even talk about it?

"At least with Logan we could have established a relationship of mutual respect and friendship. I would have been able to tell him at some point. We would have been able to uphold our courtly duties. I might have even been able to grow to love him. But with John of Gregory, I don't know if I'll ever be able to let my guard down again."

Kennedy places a hand on my knee. "I'm sorry, princess. It pains me to see you like this. If there is something I can do to help make it better please tell me. I want to help."

"Well, the first thing you can do is start calling me Emmalyne," I answer. "I can't have my own servant knowing I prefer women and still referring to me as your highness."

"I can do that," Kennedy nods. "But only in private."

"Of course," I reply. "I don't want to be the reason you lose your job. But don't think I haven't heard you use my name before."

"Awe!" Kennedy coo's, their voice mocking that of teenage girls. "You do care about me."

"False, I actually care very little for you," I reply sniggering. "I just keep you around for when I need the first aid kit."

Kennedy scoffs offended and stands up. "Well in that case you can spend the rest of the evening alone."

"No!" I call. "Please don't leave."

I'm still not ready to be alone with myself. But I don't tell Kennedy that. 

"Please," I repeat. 

"I guess a little longer won't hurt." Kennedy sighs. 

And they stay.