The 7th Lie

by Tamara Grantham

  “He doesn’t like my cooking?” she challenged.

  “He didn’t like the ingredients that were being added.” And that was the total truth. “I haven’t gotten in your way yet, have I? I can make eggs.”

  She huffed. “Go on, then.” She waved her wooden spoon. “I hated cooking for that spoiled mutton head anyway. But I’ll not be helping you, and you’d better not expect it of me.”

  “Fine.” I’d gotten along just fine without her anyway.

  I turned to the skillet as she marched away. Eggs popped and sizzled, the rich scent curling into the air on puffs of steam.

  “Are you going to let them burn or what?” a maid said as she rushed past me. I’d seen her before. Justine, wasn’t it?

  I turned back to the eggs. The edges were curling and beginning to brown. Sighing, I picked up the skillet and slid them on a plate.

  Justine eyed the platter. “You’ve been preparing the food for the prince, haven’t you?”

  I added a pinch of salt and pepper. “Yes,” I answered.

  “I’m sorry you’re stuck tending to him.” She smoothed her blonde braid that hung to her waist. “We all know how he is.”

  I grabbed a few slices of rye from a basket and placed it on the plate. “He’s not so bad sometimes.”

  She laughed mockingly. “You must be joking. He’s horrible. You are funny, Miss Sabine.”

  “I think he’s only rude because he feels trapped here. If you get to know him, he’s not so bad.”

  Her eyes widened. “Not so bad?”

  “He’s nice, actually,” I explained. “And he’s exceptionally intelligent.”

  “Careful, Miss Sabine.” She narrowed her eyes. “It almost sounds as if you fancy him. The queen regent wouldn’t take kindly to such a thing—what with you as his tutor.”

  “Justine,” I said confidently. “I promise, I would never fancy him.”

  Her lips protruded in a sulky pout. “Then I suppose we’ve nothing to worry about.” She sniffed before turning away, her shapely hips swishing as she pushed her way through the crowd of servants.

  “Not that it’s your business anyway,” I mumbled.

  I turned away from her. On my way out, I grabbed an apple from a basket and a jug of cider, then escaped the kitchens as Mrs. O’Connor gave me an evil glare. I exhaled a sigh of relief as I paced through the cool air in the hallways. It was no wonder Mrs. O’Connor was constantly barking at everyone and being sour. I wasn’t sure I would’ve been much kinder if I’d been stuck in that hellish place all day.

  When I got to the prince’s doorway, I went through the usual motions of knocking and entering, then balancing the tray as I crossed into the room.

  An empty bed greeted me. The blankets were tucked neatly, and pillows were arranged. As I scanned the room, I spotted Prince Morven’s tall frame by the window. He’d dressed in his usual all-black attire as he stood with his arms folded across his chest.

  Standing.

  I almost dropped the tray.

  “Morven?”

  He turned around and looked at me, his face revealing no emotion.

  “You’re standing?” I said, shocked.

  He gave a slight nod, but he offered no further explanation. I placed the tray on the bedside table.

  “Eggs today?” His face brightened as he focused on the food.

  “Yes.” I motioned to the food. “I also grabbed some bread, an apple, and cider. No porridge ever again, thankfully.”

  His wheelchair was arranged next to him, and he sat, his movements cautious.

  “You must be feeling better?” I asked as he wheeled up to the food.

  “It’s hard to tell. As I said before, some days are better than others.”

  “Let’s hope you keep improving—which, you now will, because I’ve been making sure you’re not eating poisoned porridge.”

  He gave me a slight smile. “You still believe it was poisoned?”

  “No. I know it was. But the eggs are safe, so you should eat them.”

  He poked them with the fork. “They look... delicious?”

  I laughed. “They’re only burnt a little around the edges. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

  He shoveled in a bite, and finished them off in less than a minute, then ate the bread before taking a long drink from the mug of cider.

  As he took a bite of the apple, he nodded at me. “Delicious. When I’m King, I’ll replace Cook with you.”

  “Thanks.” I shrugged. “But I think I’ll pass.”

  “I’m serious. The food is amazing. You really are a talented chef.”

  I couldn’t hide my smile. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely.” He motioned to me with his apple. “Where were you yesterday?”

  I gave him a quizzical glance. “Yesterday?”

  “During dinner?” he clarified.

  “Oh...” I answered. “Mrs. Jennings was putting the finishing touches on a dress for me.”

  He cocked his head. “What for?”

  “What for?” I placed my hands on my hips. “You seriously don’t know? It’s for the ball, you idiot,” I said teasingly.

  He placed the apple on his lap, eyeing me with his calculated gaze, which seemed no less menacing than when I’d first met him. “You’re going to the ball?”

  “Yes, that was the plan, wasn’t it? We’re going to steal your aunt’s key and all. By the way, I found someone to do it for us.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Cade.”

  He knit his brow. “The gardener?”

  “Yes. He’s talented at sleight of hand, so I asked for his help. He only asked for me to dance with him, and he agreed to do it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You agreed to dance with him?”

  I nodded. “Is something wrong with that?”

  He gazed out the window. “Nothing,” he muttered.

  “You don’t like the gardener?” I prodded.

  He shrugged, then took another bite of the apple. “I don’t like anyone.”

  “Not even me?” I winked.

  “Of course, not you.” He smirked. “You just called me an idiot. Do you enjoy calling me names?”

  “Yes, I do—which is why I do it. Now.” I sighed. “With all those pleasantries out of the way, what’s on the schedule for today? More lessons?”

  “No, thankfully.” He took another bite of the apple, and I supposed he’d let the whole being-offended-that-I’d-called-him-an-idiot thing slide. I didn’t know why it stung when he’d said he didn’t like me. He was teasing about that anyway, right?

  “My aunt wants me in the ballroom to discuss the night’s schedule. She’s domineering when it comes to this sort of thing—wants everything to be perfect, so she demands I be there all day.”

  “All day?” I asked, stunned.

  “Yes, unfortunately.” He placed the apple core on the tray. “And she wanted me there five minutes ago.”

  “Fine.” I crossed my arms, annoyance clawing at me. “But I don’t like how she controls your life. What is she planning to do with herself once you’re king?”

  “To be honest, I don’t think much will change.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  “She’ll still be my advisor,” he answered. “Depending on how capable I am, she could retain most of her power.”

  Meaning Morven’s handicap would allow her to keep her control over him.

  I went to the back of his chair, grabbed the handles, and pushed him out of his room and down the hall. As we walked, with no one passing us by, I decided now was a good time to question him about his nightly activities. I’d found him missing from his room more than once in the last two weeks I’d been here, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  “Morven, I came to your room a few nights ago to check on you, but you were gone. Where were you?”

  He glanced back at me. “You came to check on me?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “
Why on Earth would you do a thing like that?” he asked sharply.

  “Because I’m your caretaker,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s my job.”

  “First, you’re not my caretaker,” he explained. “That may be your title, but I’m a grown man, and, not to be offensive, but I have more than enough servants to push my chair around. I have no need for you. Second, what I do at night is my business.”

  “You really won’t tell me?” I asked. “I thought we were getting to be friends.”

  He glanced up at me, dark eyes narrowed with confusion. “Friends?” he said the word as if it were something foreign.

  “Yes, friends,” I repeated. “I thought we could be honest with each other. Why won’t you tell me where you go?”

  He crossed his arms. “No,” he muttered. “That’s not something I care to tell you.”

  “Fine,” I murmured.

  He remained quiet, and I pushed him toward the ballroom in silence.

  When we entered, servants bustled around the enormous room, carrying armloads of green and gold streamers or vases of flowers. Tables had been arranged and were in various stages of being decorated. Shuffling feet and hurried voices echoed through the domed space.

  Queen Regent Tremayne stood talking to a group of servants near a cluttered table at the back. Her eyes snagged on me and Morven. She dismissed her servants and stalked toward us, her wide skirt rustling, her gown’s dark hue contrasting her chalky skin.

  “Morven,” she snapped. “I told you to arrive ten minutes ago.”

  “Yes.” He motioned to his legs. “But as you see, I’m incapable of walking.”

  She held up a bony finger. “Don’t be high-spirited with me,” she argued. “I’ve had enough of that from the servants.” She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. “They’ve brought in the wrong flowers. White roses when I ordered red tulips. I had to have them tossed out. Now I don’t know if we’ll get the arrangements set up in time.”

  “Would you like me to help?” I didn’t know why I offered. Getting into her good graces seemed a pointless goal, but it was the only thing I could think to say.

  “No.” She shook her head. “You’re to help Morven learn his place.” She crossed to the table and rifled through a pile of scrolls, then handed one to me. “This is tonight’s program. You’re to make sure Morven is where he needs to be at certain times, and at those times only. He can only be seen when necessary. Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked, her voice sharp. “His appearances are to be closely monitored, and I need you to make sure that happens. Read through the instructions carefully. There can be no missteps. Do not fail at this.”

  I stood tall. “I understand.”

  “Good.” She clasped her hands. “Now, go over the program as many times as possible so there aren’t any slip-ups.”

  She bustled away.

  “I don’t like her,” I mumbled.

  Morven sighed. “She’s family.”

  I opened the scroll and scanned the schedule. Queen Regent’s entrance. Queen Regent’s welcome. Royal dinner. (Morven to sit at the end table near the doors. Must be able to enter and exit room without aid of the chair.) I skipped ahead. Introduction of Prince Morven. (MUST BE ABLE TO STAND while being announced, then return to chair where HE WILL SIT for the rest of the evening!!)

  “Well, it looks like your aunt is expecting a miracle.” I rolled up the scroll. “Any idea how you’re supposed to walk across a room when you can’t even stand up most of the time?”

  “She expects me to walk?” he questioned.

  “Yes, I believe so.” I thumped the scroll. “There’s the whole must-be-standing thing. And the two exclamation points at the end.”

  “If I fall, she’ll blame me.” He heaved a deep sigh. “It’s happened before.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yes, but I expected it.” He gripped his chair’s armrests. “Wheel me to the dining table. I might as well start practicing now.”

  I tucked the scroll under my arm, then pushed him over the marble floor to the end of the row of heavy oaken tables. I stopped when the archway overshadowed us.

  “I’m assuming this is where we’ll put your chair. You’ll only have to walk from here to the table, then back again.”

  He tapped his fingers on his knee. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  I stepped to his side, then held out my hand. He eyed it. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you stand up,” I explained.

  He paused, observing me cautiously, as if not sure he could trust me. Did he have the same problem with touching people as me? But he clenched his jaw. Determination shone in his eyes, and he didn’t argue as he put his hand in mine. As we touched, his firm grip made me catch my breath, shattering my urge to push him away. That had never happened before, and I was left bewildered and exhilarated. Usually my extra perception made it hard to touch anyone. But now...

  Our eyes locked.

  Words escaped me as I looked into dark, knowing eyes. I could’ve gotten lost in their depths.

  Keeping his hand in mine, Morven stood up straight.

  “You’re doing it,” I said encouragingly.

  “I stood up, yes. Wow,” he answered with sarcasm. “Now comes the part where I have to actually try.”

  Holding my arm, he shuffled one foot forward, then the other. He made it halfway to the table when his legs buckled. He fell, pulling me down with him. My tailbone took the brunt of the impact on the stone floor.

  Ouch.

  I sat up, looking at Morven who lay on the floor. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” His chest rose and fell. “I’m used to it.” He sat up. “How about you?”

  I rubbed my back. “Just a bruise. I’ve had worse.”

  He nodded. “Shall we try again?”

  “Are you sure you want to?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said with determination.

  “Okay, then.” I stood, then helped him do the same. He held tightly to my arm as we walked, one step in front of the other, the warmth of his body near mine, though only our arms touched. I inhaled the scent of his cologne—of spiced amber and mountain forests, reminding me of the wilderness.

  With one final step, we made it to the dining table. He collapsed in the chair.

  “You did it.” I sat next to him.

  “No.” His shoulders slumped. “I did what everyone else does all day without even thinking. It’s nothing you should congratulate me for.”

  “Morven, you should be proud. Just because everyone else can walk without thinking doesn’t diminish your achievement. You did something that was challenging for you. Don’t compare it to what everyone else does.”

  He gave me a curious glance. “You really believe that? All I did was walk a few steps.”

  “Yes, I do believe it.” I sat tall. “And it is worth congratulating. Once you figure that out, this will get easier.”

  He sighed, not meeting my gaze, perhaps pondering my words.

  “Fine,” he said. “Let’s walk back to my chair.”

  “Are you sure?” I questioned. “You don’t want to rest a moment?”

  “Yes.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sure.”

  “All right.” I stood, then helped him do the same, his hand gripping my forearm. He shuffled forward, moving with slow, deliberate actions. When we reached the halfway point, he stopped.

  “I think I’ll try it by myself.” He straightened his back.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yes,” he answered with a determined nod. “I need to do this.”

  “Okay.” I released his arm, then took a step away from him.

  His chest rose. He took one step, then another. As he walked, he glanced at me. A smile stretched his lips.

  “You’re doing it!”

  He nodded. His face filled with concentration as he finally made it to the chair.

  I walked back to him. “That was amazing!”

  H
e nodded. “I think that’s it for today.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his thighs. “I don’t think I could make it again. I should probably save my strength.”

  “All right. If that’s what you want. Good job, by the way.”

  He hesitated before answering, as if he were ready to downplay his accomplishment and tell me it wasn’t a big deal. Instead, he gave me a slight smile. “Thank you,” he answered, sincerity in his voice.

  When our gazes connected, his eyes softened, and I wondered if anyone had ever genuinely praised him. With the way he’d reacted, I doubted it.

  Standing behind his chair, I grabbed the handles and pushed him away from the table. As we crossed through the room, Cade entered. He carried a box of tulips in crystal vases. He smiled when he saw me, pausing to place the flowers on a table.

  Morven stiffened. “What’s he doing here?”

  “He’s the gardener,” I answered. “I’m sure he’s got plenty of chores to do with getting all the flowers arranged.”

  Morven snorted. “Flower arrangements. Right. Why’s he coming over when he’s obviously got such a huge blunder to fix?”

  “Maybe he wants to talk to us,” I offered.

  “Talk to you, more likely.” He crossed his arms. “That man doesn’t give one whit about me. He’s always pretended I don’t exist, like I have the plague. Won’t even acknowledge me half the time.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem right. That’s certainly not the attitude of the gardener I know.”

  “Well... I can only assume he hates people in wheelchairs.”

  “Really Morven, I think you’re reading too much into it.” Morven was probably just sensitive about being in the chair, but I decided not to mention it.

  Cade shot me his rakish grin as he stopped near us. “Prince Morven, Sabine,” he said with a nod. “I’m glad I’ve found you here.”

  “Still working on fixing your mistake with the flowers, I see,” Morven said in a bored tone. “Too bad you can’t tell red tulips from white roses. Have you ever been tested for color blindness?”

  His smile faltered.

  “Cade,” I said as politely as possible. “We were just headed outside, but I’m glad you’ve found us. Morven, Cade’s helping us with tonight’s task, remember?”

  “How generous of him. But he wasn’t doing it for nothing, was he? What did he want in return?” He brushed his hand through the air. “Oh, yes. A dance. With you. Perhaps if he’d been concentrating on his work instead of ogling you, he wouldn’t have made such a blunder with the flowers.”