The bruises on my wrists were the first thing he noticed.

I was one of the maids for the wing where his study was located. It was very rare that I ever saw him, being it the household mistress always reminded us to clean quickly and make sure to be out before any of their majesties should decide to visit the room.

But there were always mistakes.

I was dusting an especially enchanting looking volume of books in the far corner of his study, debating if I would get caught if I decided to flip through the pages for a minute.

The thought hadn't long to simmer in my mind before the heavy door swung open, the hinges squealing to announce the arrival of non-other that High King Peter himself.

I immediately slid to the floor from my ladder, taking cover behind a half-bookcase that wasn't built into the wall. It didn't possess a backboard, so I could see through it.

When I finally settled my adrenaline, I peeped out from my covering to see if there was an exit I could take.

It didn't look likely.

He was sitting, pensively reading over a document, brow furrowed. His desk was positioned just so that I couldn't make my escape without being seen.

With no hope of getting away at the moment, I decided to satisfy my curiosity and watch just a little. I doubted I would get another chance. Upon the occasion we did make the mistake of being in their majesties presence, we were not to look them in the eye.

I recalled my training, "Curtsy low, and keep your eyes down. Don't speak. You're not to draw any attention to yourself."

I had never seen any of their majesties. I scooted my eyes up above a row of books.

The whisperings and giggles of the other maids that had seen him didn't go unheard by me. So I thought I knew what to expect.

I didn't.

They said he was handsome, and that he was. Tall, masculine frame. Golden, tousled hair. I wasn't close enough to see his eyes, but, supposedly, they were blue.

But that wasn't what surprised me.

When I looked up again, he sat this time with his head in his hands, fingers gripping just a smidge too tight on his scalp.

Restless. That's the word for it.

I moved my foot from under me, as it had begun to fall asleep. But the bottom of my shoe caught in the grout of the marble tile just so, and it made a faint squeak.

I went dead-still. I heard a shifting of paper.

"Who's there?" came the voice of the High King. If I weren't so frightened, I might have lingered on the fact that the giggled gushings of the other maids about his voice being nice weren't entirely wrong.

I heard his chair shift back, and then footsteps. I quickly decided it would be better for me to reveal myself then for him to find me hiding. I didn't want any accusations or suspicions.

So as I gingerly but determinedly stood up and stepped out and forward, I found myself immediately in front of his majesty. Too close.

I stepped back and dropped into a curtsey, keeping my eyes down.

Swallowing my fear, I spoke up. "I apologize, your majesty. I was cleaning, and I hadn't any idea you were to return here. I'm terribly sorry."

I could feel his eyes boring into me, assessing.

"It's quite alright. You just gave me a bit of a fright, that's all." If the humor that laced his statement was anything to go by, I wasn't in trouble. I sighed in relief. I still kept my eyes down.

"Oh, and please rise. I've never curtsied myself, but it seems much more uncomfortable than bowing," he said with a small laugh. I let a hesitant smile take over my lips. The thought of him curtsying was certainly not dull.

As I came up, I spoke again. "May I get you anything, your majesty?"

He seemed to sink a little. "No, but thank you. You're free to continue your work in here or go wherever else you are needed."

I hesitated. I had heard that their majesties came from a different world, and that they were still learning the customs of ours.

Apparently, his majesty didn't know the scandal of being alone in a room with one of the opposite sex if you are unrelated or unmarried.

But cleaning his study was my favorite job, as I loved all the books, and the main library was never a task given to me. I desperately didn't want it to be cut short. Besides, I would have to join Betsy after this, and she annoyed me deeply.

And no one would expect a king with a maid. It wasn't as if I was a courtier lady or anyone of elevated rank that deserved to be guarded closely.

No one would know if I stayed to finish, right?

"Will I not disturb your majesty if I continue here?"

"No," he said, "I'll be just fine, but please, just for this afternoon, forsake calling me 'your majesty.' This is the one room I can be relieved of formalities."

I looked up. The smile that accompanied his request didn't reach his eyes.

Oh! I just looked him in the eye! I quickly turned my head back down.

I nodded. "What would it please you for me to call you, then?"

"Call me Peter," he said with a tired smile. "I am aware that it goes contradicts protocol, but just this afternoon, please." His eyes held a pleading that somehow demanded compliance more than a firm command would.

I nodded.

We both returned to our tasks. Before he reached his desk, he turned back around.

"And what might I call you?"

I blinked.

I heard myself answer with my name, but my mind was busy attempting to comprehend why on earth he would care.

At some point he smiled and went back to whatever needed his attention on his desk, and I went back to my work, too stunned even to admire the lovely books as I cleaned.

Mindlessly dusting for some time, I didn't take care to mind my feet for the second time that day.

Before I could catch myself, I fell a few steps down, knocking some books down as I tried to grab the shelf in my fall.

I could only imagine the racket that I was making. So much for not distracting him. This is why they didn't let me clean the main library.

"Are you alright?" he called.

I sat up from the floor, fixing my skirts to the best of my ability, annoyed with myself.

"Yes, I'm just clumsy. I apologize, your maje…," I closed my eyes, "Peter, I mean."

Calling him by his first name made me endlessly uncomfortable. Did he not know my rank? Or the implications of his request?

He offered his hand to me, and I hesitantly gave mine up out of politeness, knowing full well I could get myself up.

He was showing me too much attention for what I was. What's his game? What could he want with me?

A hand that dwarfed my own pulled me up.

Even though I was still avidly avoiding his eyes, I could feel him tense.

He turned my wrist around in his hand, and it suddenly washed over me. The bruises in the very obvious shape of fingers that had gripped forcibly.

Oh, no.

I quickly snatched my hand away, bringing it to my side, hiding it behind my apron.

He said my name softly. I closed my eyes, trying to mentally be anywhere else. If I weren't so terrified, I might have taken a moment to realize his caring to remember my name.

A thousand different scenarios of how he might react flashed across my closed eyelids.

Would he release me from working here? The rumors went that he was kind, but the head maid said other things. Did she say those things just to scare us into obedience, or were they legitimate warnings?

"Who did this to you?" His question came hoarse, soft and concerned.

I shook my head, starting to feel myself go into mental hibernation. I couldn't do this.

"Please open your eyes."

I swallowed and mustered up all the courage I could. Slowly, my eyelids complied.

"Who did this to you?" he repeated.

"I don't see why it matters."

"I don't' see why on earth it wouldn't. _, tell me."

I shook my head.

"Is it the household mistress? Does she treat you poorly? I swear she'll be gone by tomorrow if so."

"No." I swallowed. "No, she does not."

"Then who?"

I can see from my downturned eyes that his hands are fidgeting, knuckles white. He wants to do something.

But he can't.

I shake my head again. "Your highness, I… can't ask you to assist in my affairs. My rank is not..." I'm cut off.

"Peter. I'm just Peter in this room. Rank is fickle. And this is a matter of justice, not of stupid social status. I can bring whoever did this to you to the due punishment."

His stance shifts closer to me, breaking the barrier between "out of reach" and "within arm's length."

I call all my gumption to my side to utter the next phrase I said. When I look back on that day, I really don't know how I managed to say it. My eyes turned back upward to meet his.

"Perhaps rank is truly fickle. But power is not. Otherwise I could have brought him to justice myself. Power is very tangible, thus why I cannot inform you any further, lest any harm be inflicted upon you or your family in return."

He seemed greatly taken aback at my speech.

"Are you implying that whoever did this to you has the capacity to threaten myself and my siblings?"

My eyes fell back to their position of sweeping the floor with their vision.

"Because if you are I must no longer ask out of respect for your privacy and freedom of choice but rather demand out of concern for the entirely of Narnia an answer from you."

"I mean not that he is a menace to the monarchy. I simply mean he inflicts great damage on those who rise against him."

I would know.

His majesty eyed me in question and let out a breath that sounded somewhat like a laugh, but had no humor in it.

"Even I was worried about myself alone, you are aware of the fact I have an army behind me, yes?"

"He's slippery. He's in and out and has done his damage before anyone even knows of his presence."

"Our guards are top on the line, _. It will take a very skilled man indeed to evade them."

I shook my head and turned around, putting my back to him, forsaking all manners.

"_, I need you to…"

I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I immediately tensed and turned around, ready to defend myself. It was just second nature.

But I had miscalculated how close he was, and I had definitely not planned for him to be leaning down, so my forehead bumped right against his. The pain of the bump was never even a thought, as I felt a rush of emotions wash over me that I knew not to be my own.

Anger. Concern. Frustration. And… Hurt?

I knew immediately from the unfamiliar feel of them that these were not my own emotions, but rather his.

Then came the memories in flashes. What he ate for breakfast. A conversation with his brother. A discussion over the borders.

Memories from today.

His today, not mine.

Then a thought hit me. Oh, no.

I looked to his bewildered face and I immediately knew the answer.

"_…"