He just stood there, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
After a moment, he finally shook off his shock and looked down at the woman in his embrace.
“Annabelle?” he asked, his voice uncertain.
Princess Annabelle nodded, tears of joy streaming down her face. “It’s me, Napier. I’ve come to take you
home.”
They stared at each other, lost in their own world, as if the donkey and I didn’t exist.
To assert my own presence, I stepped forward and tugged on the princess’s silky sleeve. “Excuse me, miss,”
I said helpfully, “but you’re hugging the wrong man. This is my husband.”
Only then did Princess Annabelle seem to notice me.
“Husband?” she repeated, her voice laced with doubt.
When I nodded, she turned to Napier, her face a mask of shock.
“Napier,” she stammered, “you’re… married?”
And that’s how I learned his name was Napier. For two years, he had refused to tell me what it was.
Naturally, Napier denied it. “No. She is… merely my employer.”
I felt a twinge of guilt at his denial. He was right; he had never once agreed to be my husband.
When my mother had first threatened him–either be my husband or be our laborer–he had walked out the door without a second thought, his body still weak from illness, and started pushing that stone mill.
Over the past two years, I’d tried everything–threats, bribes, you name it.
But he simply would not marry me.
Now, hearing Napier’s denial, Princess Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. She looked me up and down with disdain. “You coarse wench,” she said slowly, “how dare you covet the Grand Tutor of the court?”
Her accusation stung. When I bought Napier, he was just an exiled convict. I had no idea he was a Grand
Tutor. Besides, officials exiled to our remote corner of the world almost never returned to the capital.
Who could have guessed Napier would be the first?
Napier paid no mind to her insults. He simply looked at me and said, “Miss Jane, I’m afraid I won’t be able to work today.”
