This morning when Edmond lowered my breakfast before me, every ounce of my blood rushed to my face. The action wasn't different or new, but his close proximity had my heart beating frantic.

He still smelled of spice like the night before.

To be sure, his pace was measured but I needed him away from me far faster than he moved.

My lightheadedness was because I'd held my breath but began to breathe heavier once I'd noticed and started counter measures.

Finally, my eyes closed, I prayed he'd leave my proximity.

When he was gone, putting down the plates for everyone, my posture sagged.

My daughters regarded me in confusion.

Cinderella was particularly concerned. "Stepmother, your face is so flushed. It's been this way since yesterday." She leapt to her feet, touched my forehead, and declared, "You're burning up! I'll get medicine right away."

She stumbled out in a hurry, making the most terrible ruckus. Poppy and Piglet waited, waited for me to admonish her behavior but I felt dazed. That was the last thing on my mind.

Within minutes, Cinderella returned, fear and panic creased in her face as she took a spoon and scooped up whatever was in that fancy faux medicine bottle and mixed it into my soup.

"I know the right dosage. I'd done this for Mother toward the end. But I promise, this time I'll give you twice as much. Don't worry."

I caught her hand because she started to tremble. Once our eyes met, I assured her, "I am not ill. It's just the weather getting me flustered."

Cinderella's expression changed. "But it's nearly autumn."

This time when my face heated, I fought to compose myself.

I guided her to her chair and patted her arm.

"Here. Enjoy your meal, and I will enjoy mine."

The worry wafting off that pretty face was why I sought to assure her by picking up the medicine bottle.

"But I'll keep this just in case."

Her eyes lit up and I smiled. She was the only one in high spirits. My other two daughters ate their food as if they'd just been assigned to abandon their family for war.

Poppy was the first to finish, followed by Piglet who barely ate a bite.

Seeing Edmond's hard work go to waste concerned me.

Once they were gone, I stood and gathered their plates close. I'd do what all mothers did eventually, eat after her children like a scavenger.

Cinderella still watched me so I explained, "We should not waste food." I was quick to add, "But never do this in polite company."

She nodded. Today, her perfect posture abandoned, she wiped her face with the back of her hand; I was heartbroken.

"So you no longer want to be a lady?"

Cinderella picked at her food. "It's a hopeless endeavor. Best if I resign to this." Her big eyes pleaded when she asked, "May I stay with you instead?"

I wanted to say no but I was touched. "Don't give up just yet, all right?"

She finished her meal then took my soup. "Should I help you eat everything."

The sentiment was sweet, but I shook my head. "No. Go and find your sisters and see what they have planned for today."

Cinderella lumbered to her feet. "But I don't want to do a lesson. Must I?"

At my nod, she left.

My intent was to eat but I hardly had the appetite.

Instead, I sat making lazy circles in the soup.

The door to the kitchen opened and closed and my body reacted before my mind could calm.

Edmond said nothing as he reached across me to gather the plates. I held his hand before he could take the ones in front of me.

That act sent a shot of panic and longing throughout my body.

He waited, however, unmoving, so I whispered, "I am not yet finished."

Due to my posture, a strand of my hair fell into my face. I meant to brush it back. When Edmond did the honors, I gripped the table.

"If you'd give me a moment."

He still stared down at me and I wondered if his sensibilities were betraying him at all like mine.

After clearing his throat, he complied. The silence then made me pick my head up. He observed my uneaten food. "Was it not to your liking?" Finally, his dark eyes settled on me. "I'd made it especially for you."

My hands went numb. I wanted to answer.

He looked genuinely embarrassed as he took a spoon and sampled it.

The face he made meant he wasn't pleased.

And then it occurred to me.... Cinderella's medicine.

I nearly stumbled in my rush to intercept him.

"No. It's—it's hard to explain."

My footing slipped and I took a tumble, right into his arms. He immediately looked around but didn't let me go.

The kiss was brief, and my breath caught for different reasons.

Our eyes met. He wanted to say something but eventually, he helped me up and walked around me to gather the plates. He took my uneaten soup with him as well. And he was gone, leaving the phantom of that kiss on my lips. He'd kissed me.

The clicking of the door came with a part of me dying inside.

My body sagged and I used the table for support. It was a struggle to compose myself.

After staring at the table for a long moment, I sucked in a deep breath and marched to that kitchen. We needed to discuss this.

I entered to the sound of plates falling. Edmond's knees buckled and he crashed to the floor.

"Edmond!"

In his struggle to stand again, he over-corrected his footing and spun around, nearly colliding with the table. He was disoriented so I grabbed hold.

As soon as he steadied, I tried to look at him, but he didn't focus.

"What is wrong?"

He lost power and I made a difficult decision to leave him there and fetch the girls. Within seconds, panicked chatter erupted throughout the hall as we raced to the kitchen.

"Help me get him up!" It took everything in me to pick up his upper body, but it was to no avail. The three of us weren't going to be able to move him. Still, my daughters tried to get his feet. Everyone was in motion but one person.

Cinderella.

She stood by, watching, eyes wild. "You're not supposed to touch servants like him. Father said."

I stared at her, awestruck. "He's our friend."

One step back was her only response.

The nerve. The very nerve. "You are nicer to rats than people! Then imagine he's one of your blasted rats and help us!"

Her face colored. "You promised you wouldn't tell."

Poppy stepped before her and said to me, "Wouldn't it be best if we made a gurney? Wrapping a sheet around two poles would do. We need only roll him onto it."

The suggestion didn't seem too farfetched. It was a chore getting Edmond into the house, but we managed. Once he lay sprawled on the settee, I came to a different conclusion. "Bring him to my room."

My girls obeyed without question but Cinderella, who'd been a curious bystander thus far, looked horrified.

"But Father—"

"To the devil with your father. I can look in on him better there and he cannot go into any other bedroom. We must fetch a doctor and I won't leave him on the floor."

Thanks to the night before, the sheets were changed. Poppy and Piglet, though reluctant, rarely questioned my rulings.

Cinderella remained composed until Edmond lay in my bed. "Father'll be furious!"

I ignored her and went to get Edmond's shoes but paused upon remembering his caged behavior with regards to his appearance. Poppy and Piglet might not mention the toes. Cinderella certainly couldn't be trusted. Therefore, I left his feet and told them, "Leave."

Worry anchored me here but the need to find a doctor was of far greater importance. Once we were alone and Edmond was secure, I hurried around for my things with the intent to ride into town myself if I had to.

He caught my arm and begged, "No. No doctor. Please. I'll be all right. I'm all right now."

But he didn't appear all right at all, breathing labored and movements stiff. His protests fell on deaf ears; I'd get him a doctor.

And then I remembered what I'd felt of his body and it gave me pause.

The cuts weren't that of beatings. Raphael had even boasted about some of his scars, much to Arabella's chagrin. Edmond's were different. They were precise, deliberate, the sort someone did to test the limits of an animal, perhaps. It was the patches of white along his bicep, skin pulled away, that finally broke my resolve.

Everything in me said to throw away those reservations and seek out help but Edmond's pleas worked. I gave up.

Instead, I kicked off my shoes and climbed up into the bed with him.

He held me as I pressed my face into his neck.

"Please," I begged, "I cannot lose anyone else."

Today's grip was far weaker than those of the night before. And so, I held onto him instead. I wanted his words of assurance—I must have looked pathetic there pleading with him to be all right but that couldn't be helped.

His heartbeat was erratic and at times, his breathing shallow. After some minutes, tentative fingers touched my face, raking through my hair, ruining the neat bun I'd put there to carry myself proud.

I puzzled about the chasm in my chest, gaping wider and wider at the prospect of his injury. And as I puzzled, desperate to think of what may have caused this illness, I heard a voice.

"I shouldn't be in your bed."

My muscles tensed. Now it was my heart beating erratic as I sat back.

"That is your first thought? About what is proper?"

Our eyes locked and his mortification incensed me all the more. I never understood Edmond as a person. Raphael had a casual disposition, down to the very loose-fitting clothes he'd worn. Edmond was always properly dressed, even when doing chores that would eventually require him spending the better part of a day cleaning said clothes.

He never whined nor complained. But it wasn't only that. We were only two years apart, and yet it had always felt like a million years cast between us.

The one thing he always had were his wits, so to rob him of his composure to the point that all rebuttals faded, meant a wronging.

I held his face and when his eyes closed, I put our foreheads together.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, for I did not understand him and I wanted to. And he'd been right. Having him in my bed was foolish. What if Gareth came back this very moment? What would I say? How would I explain this? He'd already made up his mind about Edmond and I seventeen years ago. What would happen to poor Edmond upon recovery?

Despite his weakened state, I felt safe tucked beside him, his arm around my shoulder, holding my wrist, pulling me close.

Once his heart rate slowed, I said, "I want you to sleep in the house tonight—"

"No."

"It is not up for discussion."

The tension in his body told me he planned for a fight. A knock at the door took that. Now he was unmoving for other reasons.

I zeroed in on the key on my bedside table, a key he also noticed. The door was unlocked.

The knock came again but I met his gaze, challenging him to turn me down once more.

Finally, he sighed. When I received a nod, I kissed his cheek and slid to the floor. My shoes slipped on without trouble and I brushed myself off before opening the door.

The face to greet me wasn't one I expected to ever see again.

Cook looked beyond me to the bed. Anyone else might have stumbled back surprised, instead, she set her gaze on me.

I shrunk away.

"Was coming up the drive and saw the girls racing around in a panic. Something about Edmond dying," she grumbled, "if Cinderella's to be believed."

Though I tried to respond to her, Edmond cut me off as he struggled to leave the bed. "Oh, you've come. I thought you were still angry."

Cook set her mouth in a straight line then admitted, "Never manage to stay angry at you for long."

Edmond was unsteady. Each time he bobbed, I longed to hold him up but the cook's stern expression, daring me to try it, stole all my courage.

When she held him around the waist and he allowed it, a part of me broke off from my fuller form.

Each shaky step had me flinching. Soon he was out of my bedroom, but I could do nothing but follow.

The cook arrived with two new cats. Poppy and Piglet were quite taken with them while Cinderella worried. And that was not all she had for us.

"An invitation for the royal ball."