Janelle
The bandage around my leg felt tight as I limped down the narrow corridor toward the servants' quarters. Each step sent a dull ache through my injured limb, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my chest every time someone stared at me.
And they were all staring.
"Look, there she goes," whispered Martha, one of the older kitchen maids. She didn't even try to lower her voice. "The reject who thinks she's special."
I kept my eyes on the stone floor, counting each step. One, two, three...
"I heard the Prince sent his own medics to treat her," said another voice behind me. "Why would he do that for someone he publicly rejected?"
My cheeks burned with shame. I quickened my pace, ignoring the sharp pain in my leg.
"Maybe she faked the whole thing," came a cruel laugh. "You know how desperate some girls get for attention."
