Page 26 of Scars and Crowns

The knife stills in my hand. For one suspended second, even the kitchen seems quieter.

Then I feel it. Every single pair of eyes turns toward me. Some curious. Some sympathetic. Some openly alarmed, as though they've already decided I've accidentally committed some unforgivable mistake on only my second day.

Exactly what I had been trying to avoid.

Attention.

I lower the knife onto the chopping board before anyone notices my fingers trembling. Beside me, Radha gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry," she murmurs with an encouraging smile.

It feels absurdly similar to the way teachers used to pat students before difficult exams. I smile back because I don't trust myself to speak.

By the time I untie my apron and step out of the kitchen, my heart has already raced several corridors ahead of me. The walk to his study feels impossibly long. Every corridor gives my mind another opportunity to imagine disaster.

Maybe he wants answers. Maybe yesterday left as many questions in his mind as it did in mine. Maybe he simply wants to know why the girl who once disappeared to chase impossible dreams is suddenly serving coffee inside his palace.

Or perhaps . . . Perhaps this has nothing to do with yesterday at all. Maybe I broke some palace rule without realizing. Maybe I addressed someone incorrectly. Maybe staff aren't supposed to leave before being dismissed.

Maybe—No. Don't spiral.

Breathe.

Another possibility slips in anyway. Perhaps he's going to ask me to leave.

Not cruelly, because he doesn’t have that in him, even after so many years I could tell. Maybe . . . politely. The sort of gentle conversation powerful people have when they're trying not to make someone feel small.

It'll be better for everyone, Anamika.

Given our history . . . perhaps another workplace would be more appropriate.

The thought settles heavily inside my stomach. By the time I stop outside the familiar wooden doors, my palms are damp enough that I discreetly wipe them against my apron.

I knock. Almost immediately, his voice reaches me.

"Come in."

I push the door open.

He's standing by the window. Not behind his desk this time. The afternoon sun spills through the glass behind him, wrapping the room in warm amber light while leaving half his face hidden in shadow.

For a moment . . . I simply look at him. He used to wear every emotion on his face.

Annoyance.

Embarrassment.

Excitement.

Jealousy.

Everything.

Now . . . Nothing.

Years have carved restraint into him so completely that I wonder if this is what his parents always wanted. A king who never lets anyone see what he's feeling. The thought makes my chest ache unexpectedly.

I quietly close the door behind me. My hands instinctively clasp together in front of me. Staff posture. The exact posture Maa stood in for years. Eyes lowered. Back straight. Waiting.

Silence stretches between us. It isn't awkward. It's heavy.