Oh my gosh, thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, and favorited. You have no idea how much it means to me. Even if it's not a ton, I really appreciate it!
A few days passed without much commotion. The cook kept Abbigail busy, so much so her hands started to callus. Abbigail wasn't against it, but she wasn't used to it. It seemed like the cook was working her harder than a cart horse. She went to sleep hours after the sun had set and she woke hours before it rose. All of it was so new to her, but she was determined to do anything she could to stay here.
Abbigail would go to the garden in her free time, which wasn't often. The garden was beautiful, with blooming red roses and soft pink snapdragons. In her childhood, Abbigail's governess took her out to the garden for lessons and taught her about each and every flower that bloomed, about the butterflies that floated through, about nature in all it's splendorous beauty. Abbigail never forgot those days, before her mother's death. She wondered what the people she left behind were doing. Did they miss her? Did they think she was dead?
Deep in her thoughts, Abbigail didn't notice someone sit beside her. They simply sat, didn't speak or move. When Abbigail noticed and looked over, she saw it was the king. She didn't say anything to him, but stood to go back to the kitchens.
"Do you like the garden?" the king suddenly asked.
"Yes," Abbigail replied.
The king smile slightly. "You're quite frank," he chuckled. "Which is your favorite flower?"
"I like snapdragons the best. My... mother used to make them speak to me when I was a child," Abbigail admitted. It wasn't really her mother, but her governess, although she couldn't very well say that. Servants didn't normally have governesses.
"How?" the king asked, perplexed.
Picking a flower, Abbigail pinched the sides and made flower pop open, looking like a gaping maw. She squeezed and released, making the blossom open and close. The king laughed, the sound coming from deep in his chest. Abbigail was unsure how old he was, but it looked like he was in his early twenties. How did he become a king so young? Abbigail was familiar with the only reason. His father and mother must've died, leaving him, as the only heir, king.
The thought made Abbigail wonder. When her father died, who would take over the kingdom? She could travel back when he died, but how would she know? What if he was already dead? Abbigail was never particularly close with her father, especially after recent events, but she would never wish him ill. The idea of it made her want to run back to her kingdom and beg forgiveness; however, Abbigail was hesitant. Did her father still want to marry her?
"What's on your mind?" the king asked.
Abbigail shook her head, "It isn't important enough to worry the king."
"I'll just have to decide that myself."
Sighing, Abbigail sat back down beside the king. She couldn't very well tell him was was actually on her mind, so she made up a lie on the spot. "I was just thinking I don't know your name," Abbigail blurted out.
"It's Damian." The king, Damian replied. The king smiled, causing Abbigail's heart to twist. Her stomach seemed to float and heat rise in her cheeks. Stop this foolishness, Abbigail told herself, he thinks you clean ashes and make his supper. He could never think you pretty.
"I'd better get back to the kitchen's before cook gets angry." Abbigail backed away before catching herself in an error. She curtsied deeply, saying, "Thank you for the conversation, your majesty."
The king smiled again. "Call me Damian. I never was one for formalities anyway."
Abbigail nodded before hurrying to the kitchens. Cook was at the stove, cooking away, turning around every once in while to chop vegetables.
"Where've you been child?" Cook asked sharply. "I asked you to pluck the chicken."
Abbigail sighed deeply. "I'll do it right away."
BTW, the snapdragon thing is a real thing. Also snapdragons ARE my favorite flower.
I updated this chapter, because I realized I hadn't named the king yet and he's kind of important. :P