The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 22

I am jerked awake the next morning when someone grips my shoulder and shakes me roughly.

My eyes shoot open and I instinctively slap the hand away. I roll across the mattress and onto the floor, landing in a defensive position between the bed and the wall. A second later I gather my bearings, adjusting to my plush and now-familiar bedroom. I stand up slowly and find Sera standing on the other side of the bed, her offended hand clutched to her chest as she stares at me incredulously.

"Rough night, miss?" she asks, pointedly.

"Oh gods, Sera, I am so sorry," I say, pushing my tangled hair from my face.

She rolls her eyes and begins stripping the sheets off my bed, pulling them into a pile on the floor.

"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing my eyes as I walk over to the balcony, blinking sleepily in the bright sunlight.

"Past breakfast," Sera answers from behind me. "Most of the ladies are already gathered in the parlour."

I groan. "Why didn't you wake me? I'm starving."

"I figured you would be. I took the liberty of scrounging up some food from the kitchen."

I turn around and smile delightedly, crossing over to the silver bowl of strawberries on my desk.

"You're a saint." I tell her, stuffing a berry into my mouth. "Now I feel particularly bad about slapping you."

I offer her the bowl and she takes a couple of berries before turning back to the laundry. I wander into the closet and absentmindedly flip through the hanging dresses as I turn over in my mind the events of the previous night.

"Uhh, miss?"

"What is it?"

I step back into the bedroom. One glance at Sera and I gasp audibly, sucking the partially chewed fruit back into my throat. My handmaid is holding up a guard's uniform.

I cough, pounding my chest as I fight for breath. I feel rather than see Sera rush across the room. She grabs me by the shoulders and steers me firmly back toward the bed, where she sits down next to me and rubs my back as my lungs gradually clear.

"Those clothes..." I begin, then choke on another cough in my struggle to explain. "They aren't mine."

To my surprise, Sera starts laughing. I stare open-mouthed as my sullen, timid handmaid doubles over, clutching her stomach and laughing so hard I think she might begin choking as well.

"Not yours," she says eventually, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. "No, Miss Abby. I didn't gather they were yours." She begins giggling again at my shocked expression.

"Not to worry." She pats my knee playfully. "You aren't the first lady to have a guard visit her quarters and I daresay you won't be the last."

"Right," I breathe, fighting to keep from wrinkling my nose at the thought of sharing my bed with one of the King's dimwitted lackeys. "You won't say anything, then?"

"Of course not." Sera winks and rises from the bed; she stoops to gather the offending garments and attempts to hide them among the rest of her gathered laundry,

"Wait!" I reach out a hand, grabbing her wrist.

She stops what she is doing and eyes me curiously.

"Could you... leave those here?" I ask, feeling a blush creep up my throat. "You know, just in case he, uh... comes back."

Impressively, though visibly struggling, Sera manages to keep her face perfectly straight. "Certainly, miss," she acquiesces smoothly, the consummate professional. "I will just put them somewhere a little... more discreet."