Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Yes.” I called after him. “But what about your heart?”
He looked over his shoulder. “That would never be up for grabs.”
“Then you have your answer, I guess. When something you desperately wish for is offered in sincerity, you don’t take it lightly.”
His eyes widened. “What? What did you say?”
“Goodnight, Frederick.” I did a slight curtsy in my towel. “And thank you for your pivotal words on why you would suddenly want me more—all because you like to win.”
His eyes go wide like he’s horrified. “That’s not what I—I don’t want the crown!”
“Seems to me like you want too much that isn’t yours to take.” They were heated words, and I knew it was my fault he even went there, that I confused both of us out of my need to get out of the marriage.
He nodded his head and walked off. “Goodnight, future highness, I hope your sleep is filled with the dread of having to smile on your engagement day.”
“And I hope,” I said with viciousness. “That you regret the day you ever doubted two of your dearest friends.”
I know I have him there.
He gaped at me. Mouth open. Mouth shut. “You’ve become as bold as he.”
“I like it.”
He shook his head and walked off and I was left staring at my ceiling after getting ready for bed later that evening, like I was about to go crazy. One am, two am, and then once three am almost hit, I charged toward my joint door, opened it to go find a probably sleeping Zautland when he was up in his bed, shirtless, wearing black spectacles reading.
“You read and you cook?” He looked up with a smirk, his glossy dark hair was all messy around his face and he looked so charming I just jumped onto his bed and laid down with my silk pajama pants and long sleeve silk shirt.
“Comfy, are you?”
I nodded. “Can’t sleep.”
“Same.” He slammed the book shut. “So, what do you want to do?”
I thought about Frederick’s words, then I thought about Zautland’s heart and said the first thing on my mind as my stomach rumbled. “Do you want to build…”
“A snowman?” He guessed.
I laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “No… a um, sandwich, maybe start our own tradition.”
His face lit up, and he didn’t hesitate, he leaned down and kissed me on the mouth, the nose, and then the forehead. “Just don’t be extremely upset and what do you say, vexed with me, when I win.”
“You’ll lose.” I jumped into the air and ran back to my room. “I need my slippers and robe.”
He put on his robe, still no shirt, figures, but at least put on his slippers, he was getting ready to take off the glasses when I shoved them back up his nose. “Nope, those you keep.”
“Because I don’t look like myself?” He frowned.
I messed up his glossy thick hair with my fingertips. “No, because I like seeing you in them.”
“Ah, should have busted out Clark Kent two years ago.”
“Could have saved you so much grief over the grumpy princess with a thorn in her side.”
“Nah, she just had one in her finger, like most princesses do, should I take it out for you?” He leaned down and slid his mouth over my thumb. “Nope, not that one,” He grabbed my pointer finger and shoved it into his mouth, his tongue smooth around it. “Nope, not that one either.” He winked. “But I’m patient, I’ll find out soon.”
My knees weakened so much I almost stumbled onto him.
“Well then.” He grabbed my hand. “Should we make a run for it to the kitchens?”
“Think we’ll get caught?”
“That’s the…” He started pulling me closer against him. “Whole, point.”
We ran down the hidden corridor, and then out into the open foyer before making a run for it toward the kitchens.
“Okay.” He pointed. “We have two options, servants’ kitchen or the main kitchen.”
We nodded our heads and said in unison. “Servants.”
We ran down the next flight of stairs and into the servants’ kitchens while we both glanced at the clock on the wall above one of the freezers.
He whistled low in his throat. “We have two hours before they’re up.”
“We can make sandwiches in two hours.”
“Right.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, where is everything?”
We both started laughing when we realized we had no idea, and began searching for bread, which he found, meat, which I found, condiments which we both found, and enough fixings to make something great.
“All right, this is only fair”—he stared at all the ingredients—“if we pick one special ingredient that will throw the other one off, so all of these are good to go,” He pointed at what we found. “But we each have to find something special to add, you know, to make it a competition.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t lose at those.”