by Casey, Ember
I clear my throat. “I just wanted to spend some time with you. Man-to-man,” I tell him. “And to assure you that I only want the best for your daughter.” I spread my arms, indicating the view below us. “And what better place to do that than here? You deserve a break, Your Majesty. And I, for one, am always happy for the chance to take in more of your beautiful country.”
“Get to the point, Mr. Donovan.”
“The point is…” I take another quick sip of my drink. “I want to be the man you believe your daughter deserves. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do it.” I set my glass back down on the table. “I know you don’t respect my career, Your Majesty. And I can understand why. But I thought, perhaps, I might show you another side to my music.” I grab the guitar case and pull it open. Inside is one of my favorite instruments—an acoustic guitar with the purest sound I’ve ever heard. I’ve had it for years, and though I’ve owned dozens of guitars in that time—some much more expensive than this one—nothing has ever matched it for pure beauty.
“I understand that I’m a little untraditional,” I tell him. “But I think that’s why Sophia and I work so well together. We balance each other. Your daughter teaches me new things every day.” I risk a glance in his direction, but his expression is perfectly blank.
Whelp, I might as well keep going.
“I wrote a song for her,” I say, pulling the guitar into my lap. “About her and Montovia. And I want you to be the first to hear it. Would you do me that honor?”
I shoot another look at him, and this time his mouth has twisted slightly. He’s not going for this at all. Fuck.
But there’s no stopping now. I might as well play the song and hope it wins him over. I softly strum the first couple of chords, and the king makes a choking sound.
Fuck. He hates it already.
My fingers are still on the strings, and I look up. But instead of seeing disgust on the king’s face, I see distress. Fear.
His hand goes to his chest. “Get…my…horse…”
With a jolt, I realize what’s happening. His heart is giving out again.
I leap up and run over to the horses, grabbing the reins. But I tied the knot too tightly. I can’t get it undone.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
I glance back at the king, who’s staggered to his feet. “My…horse!” His voice is raw.
I can’t get the reins undone, and I didn’t think to bring a knife out here. But if I don’t get him back to the palace soon, I don’t want to think about what will happen.
Which only leaves me one choice.
I run over to him and bend over in front of him.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” I say, and then I grab him and lift him over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
And then I turn and run, as fast as I can.
Sophia
Summer is my favorite time of year, and there is no place I’d rather spend it than in Montovia. My mother has spent years cultivating and planning the gardens here—not just those surrounding the palace, but also many of the parks in the city.
This is why I need to be here, I think as I make my way to the small stream at the edge of the manicured grounds. This is what I want to share with Pax and our children.
I smile to myself at the thought of having a child. My father might want me to wait ten years to bring a child into our marriage, but I don’t think I want to wait that long. I’ve never seen my brother Leopold so happy as when his son Matthew was born. And even though William is nervous about the coming birth of his twins, I’ve never seen him happier. Andrew, of course, hasn’t changed much, but I suspect that once the day of his child’s birth draws a bit closer, even he will be ecstatic.
Surely, my father can’t keep that happiness from Pax and me.
I pick up one of the smooth stones lying at the edge of the stream. I have so many memories here from when I was a girl—skipping rocks, catching frogs. All things I want my child to do, perhaps with his or her cousins.
I’m about to toss the stone into the water when I hear something in the orchards across the way. My eyes widen as that something comes into view—it’s Pax, carrying my father over his shoulder.
They collapse at the edge of the trees, and I hear a scream. It takes me a moment to realize it came from me.
* * *
I don’t really remember the journey to the hospital. We’re in a small room now, probably one of those reserved for bereaved families. Nicholas sits beside me, holding my hand. Leopold and Elle are sitting across from us, and William is over on the side of the room, flipping through a magazine. Andrew sits stoically opposite him, his hands folded together in his lap.
My mother is with my father, presumably. Whatever is going on, they still haven’t allowed me to go to see my husband.
The strange silence in the room is making everything worse. Even in the worst of situations, my brothers are usually making jokes or at least picking at each other to lighten the mood. But now, everyone—even William—seems to think better of it.
Nicholas squeezes my hand, almost as though he can read my thoughts.
I look up at him, and he raises his eyebrows, almost a silent question about how I’m doing.
I shrug, looking away. Not well, I silently telegraph to him. Not well at all.
I still have no idea what it was my husband was up to when he was out with my father. No one has told us anything, and I’m sure we’re all sitting here thinking the worst. It isn’t as though medicine in Montovia is any different than it is in America, but here, they do seem to feel less of a need to keep families informed than they do in Pax’s country.
After another long, awkward, silent few hours, the door to the small room finally opens. Everyone in the room stands at the sound.
The head physician from the palace is here, and she looks at me, giving me a nod. “Your Highness. You may see your husband now.”
“How is our father?” Andrew takes a step toward the woman. “Is there any news?”
Something flashes across her expression, but she covers it immediately. “We’re still awaiting a few test results.”
“May we see him?” William looks as worried as I’ve ever seen him.
“I’ll leave that up to your mother.” The physician gives a shallow curtsy as she backs out of the room.
I turn to Nicholas, who is still holding my hand. “Come with me.”
He gives me a single nod and walks with me out of the room.
We’re led into the intensive care unit of the small hospital. I can only guess that the room with the people rushing in and out belongs to my father—the walls of each room are made of glass, but curtains have been drawn around that particular area, rendering the contents completely private.
Pax is in the room next to it. The wall is also glass, and I can see him lying in his bed with his eyes closed as we near.
He’s pale, perhaps not quite as much as after he was shot, but my stomach clenches at the sight.
The doctor follows us into the room, sliding the door closed behind her. “He’s going to be fine. He’s exhausted. From what I can tell, he carried your father on his back for a dozen or so kilometers, and he hasn’t yet regained his strength from his previous ordeal.”
I say nothing, but I drop Nicholas’s hand and go to my husband’s bedside. My chest tightens as I sit in the chair beside him. It hasn’t been that long at all that it was exactly like this—me sitting next to his lifeless body, praying that he would wake up.
“We had to sedate him. He was insistent that he didn’t need help. But he’s severely dehydrated, and we’d like to monitor his heart overnight.”
I nod as I take his hand in mine. To my surprise, he squeezes my fingers, and his lips tick into the slightest of smiles.
The doctor walks to the opposite side of the bed. “Mr. Donovan, try to rest.”
“Mm.” His smile widens a bit as his eyes flutter open. “I’m just glad she’s here,” he mumbles.
The
physician shakes her head as she tries to fight her own smile. “As I said, he’s been fighting us the entire day.”
The door of Pax’s room slides open, and a young man steps into the room. “Doctor.” He glances between us, his gaze finally coming to rest on the physician. “We have the results. It’s…it’s what we suspected.”
The physician frowns. She nods at the man, dismissing him, before she looks back over at Nicholas and me. “I’ll need to speak to your mother.”
* * *
I sit at Pax’s bedside, watching him sleep until I’m summoned to the room next door. My family is gathered there, my mother at my father’s bedside, much as I had just been with Pax.
I look over at Elle. She looks back at me, and her eyebrows draw together slightly. As a physician herself, she probably already knows what’s going on.
My mother’s eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, and she clutches my father’s hand as she looks down at him, though he seems to be completely unconscious.
The doctor finally enters the room, sliding the door closed behind her. She walks to the side of the bed opposite my mother, turning back to look at the rest of us.
“There have been some complications.” She looks down at the clipboard she carries in her arm. “Your father has suffered another heart attack—”
“The idiot took him horseback riding,” Andrew grumbles. “He should have known better.”
“Regardless of what happened today, your father’s heart was already very weak.” The doctor looks over at Andrew. “It’s entirely likely this event would have occurred no matter what activity he was performing today.”
Andrew glares over at me, and then looks back at the doctor. “But if that man so much as—”
“Mr. Donovan was not the cause of your father’s heart failure, Your Highness.”
“Heart…failure?” William’s voice cracks. “What exactly is going on?”
“As I was trying to say, your father’s heart is very weak. Very weak.” She glances down at her clipboard again. “He’s on the list for a heart transplant, but with medications, he can likely go a few weeks—perhaps even a few months. It should give us enough time to find him a heart.”
My mother closes her eyes and sucks in a breath, almost as though she’s bracing herself for what comes next.
The doctor frowns, looking over at her. “Of greater concern at the moment is that your father’s kidneys are also failing. And his heart is far too weak to undergo dialysis.” She blinks a few times, glancing down at the damn clipboard again.
“What does this mean?” Andrew looks at her before he looks around the room at the rest of us. “What is it you’re saying?”
“What I’m saying is that your father needs a kidney transplant. Immediately. And if we can’t find one within the next day or so, he’s going to die.”
Pax
I feel like death.
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I practically was dead recently, and this feels nothing like that. There are no naked women this time. No weird dreams about Kayla and Abby and searching for Sophia. I just feel exhausted and weak.
I’ve drifted in and out of sleep. Sometimes when I wake Sophia is next to my bed, sometimes it’s someone else. It’s a long time before I can keep my eyes open for more than a minute or two, and when I do, I’m relieved to find my wife sitting next to me.
“Hey,” I say, trying to reach for her.
She gives me a weak smile and takes my hand. “You’re awake.”
“It takes more than a little exercise to kill me.” I attempt a grin.
She squeezes my fingers. “I’ve been worried about you.”
I can tell. She looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes, but the rest of her face is pale. She desperately needs some sleep and some food.
“Have you been eating?” I ask her. “And sleeping?”
She gives me a look. “You are the one in the hospital for exhaustion. I’m fine.” Her eyes take on a distant look for a second, and I can’t tell whether she’s thinking about something else or if she’s simply too tired to keep talking. Finally, she says, “What happened out there? What were you doing?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I’m still convinced it might have worked perfectly, under different circumstances. “I just took him for a ride. I had some brandy and snacks set up…a little place we could talk. I was giving him my best charm…” My words trail off. “How is he? Was it his heart?”
“He’s… It was his heart. But that’s not the most pressing thing right now.” She’s not looking at me anymore, and I realize this is what’s weighing on her so much. “His kidneys are failing. He needs a transplant immediately.”
“Oh. Fuck.” I don’t know much about kidney transplants, except what I’ve seen on medical dramas on TV. “Well, he’s the king. He’ll get bumped to the top of the list of people waiting for kidneys, won’t he?”
“That’s not the problem. The problem is finding a match.” She looks at me again, and her eyes are full of tears. “The physician said due to his past medical issues he has a high PRA, which means it’ll be hard to find him a compatible kidney.”
“What about one of your brothers? One of them has to be a match.”
She shakes her head. “They’re testing all of us, but the initial assessment isn’t good. None of us inherited his blood type. This is already going to be so risky—the physician said we need to find as close a match as possible or it won’t do him any good.” She surreptitiously tries to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen, Pax. Andrew is considering making an announcement to the public, asking for volunteers to come forward and be tested… I think we have a lot of good citizens who’d try to help. But it’s still a long shot.”
I squeeze her fingers. “Better a long shot than no shot at all. Don’t lose hope, Sophia.”
She sniffs. “I’m trying not to.”
“For that matter, have them come in here and test me.”
She shakes her head again. “You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.” I lace my fingers through hers. “Besides, I’m already here in a hospital bed. What do I have to lose? If finding him a match is a numbers game, then every person counts.”
She looks at me with those big, expressive eyes, and my heart aches for her. Finally, she rises.
“I’ll go tell the physician,” she says. Then she leans down and kisses me before sweeping out of the room.
* * *
Time has a way of going all wonky in hospitals. I’ve had enough experience with it now to say that as a fact. Minutes and hours and even days seem to lose all meaning. It’s just you and the bed and the nurses, punctuated by the occasional meal and, if you’re lucky, visitors. Sophia splits her time between me and her father—at my insistence—so that leaves me a lot of time to lie around. Nurses and doctors come in and out—checking monitors, drawing blood, doing whatever tests they need to do—and I eventually find the remote to the little TV bolted to the wall. I’m amazing to discover that Montovians get channels in at least five different languages, and even though some of those channels are in English, I end up watching some weird German show about a detective. At least I think he’s a detective. He might be a serial killer. Or a spy. It’s hard to tell.
Sophia comes in again when I’ve flipped to a French game show. She glances at the TV as she takes her usual spot beside the bed. She looks more exhausted every time I see her, but no matter how much I badger her to get some rest, she refuses. At least I saw her eat an apple earlier.
For a while, we sit in silence, both too tired to say much. And what is there to say that we haven’t said already? No words will make her feel better about what’s happening to her father. No jokes will lighten her mood. So I just reach over and take her hand and we sit like that for some time.
Eventually, a man in a white coat wanders in. I think I met him earlier, but so many doctors and nurses have com
e in and out that I can’t remember them all.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” he says to Sophia. “I’m glad you’re here. I have some news about your husband.”
She suddenly goes very stiff, and my stomach sinks. A doctor telling you he has news is rarely a good thing.
But it’s not myself I’m worried about—it’s Sophia. I don’t think she can handle hearing there’s something else wrong with me.
And the doctor seems to be dragging this out, taking his time getting to the point.
“Well?” I say. “Spit it out, man. Am I dying or something?”
The doctor blinks at me, and then frowns. “No, actually. Not at all. I just have news about your donor compatibility test for His Majesty’s kidney.”
Sophia has gone very still. The doctor seems to be waiting for her permission to go on, but I can’t wait that long.
“And?” I prompt.
“And…you’re a match,” he says simply. “Not a perfect match—that’s rare except in the case of identical twins—but as close a match as we can hope for under the circumstances.”
I let that sink in for a minute. “So I can give the king one of my kidneys?”
“Yes, you can. You might be his only hope.”
I glance over at Sophia, grinning. “Well, look at that. It worked out.”
But Sophia doesn’t look happy. If anything, she looks scared.
“I didn’t think you would actually be…” She turns back to the doctor. “Is it okay for him to do it after everything he’s been through? He was just shot a few months ago.”
“There’s always some risk involved in surgery,” the doctor replies. “But we’ve been monitoring Mr. Donovan closely. His vital signs are good. He’s as strong as a horse.”
“Hear that?” My grin widens. “Strong as a horse. I always thought so.”
Sophia still looks worried, though, so I squeeze her hand.