All rights to Kiera Cass
Chapter Four
The ball was pretty cool, but now it's time for normal work to begin again. I've been sent back down to the kitchens to work and I don't mind. I mean, I have to use the steaming hot water and it's started to burn my hands, but I don't mind.
One of the calling bells goes off and I'm the only one in the kitchen. I strut over to it. It's coming from The Prince's room. I look at the camera placed by his button. He looks down, his brow furrowed and his eyes shut tight. He needs some ice cream.
I grab the carton, who knows how much he'll want, and some pain killers for the headache I just know he has.
I head upstairs and knock on his door. He answers immediately.
"Pam," he says.
I curtsy. "Your Highness."
I had him the ice cream, a spoon, and a couple pain killers. Oh, and I brought a glass of water.
"Oh! Thank you! Really I was just looking for a snack, but this is perfect!" He exclaims. I smile.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" I ask, my accent slipping ever so slightly.
"What?" The Prince catches that immediately.
"Is there anything else I could help you with?" I ask, completely disregarding me accent. It was getting annoying anyways.
"Oh my, Alaina?" He asks.
"Uh-no."
"Oh," Glenn's face falls and I wish I could be there for him.
"So, I asked around about those papers," I say, changing the subject.
"And?"
"They were Alaina's."
He looks downcast.
"I figured as much," he replies.
"Sorry," I say.
He just nods and I feel another headache happening. I try to excuse myself, but it just comes out as a mumble of sorts. I try. Really I do. I don't like collapsing in front of The Prince. It just sort of happens.
I lean with one hand on his doorframe and the other on my head. I shut my eyes, even though it doesn't help.
"Pam?" Glenn calls. He seems to be overly loud.
"Hmm?" I ask.
"Are you alright?" He asks.
I'm about to respond but this one is so bad, I fall to the floor on my knees. I struggle to get back up, but I eventually do. It hurts like its never hurt before. I nod, barely.
I mumble what I think is an "excuse me" again, and scurry off. I need my medication. But stairs have other ideas. I trip on the first step, and fall to the very bottom, hitting my head way more times than necessary.