I’m tired, but I’m happy.
I text Dahlia again around dinnertime, telling her that I probably won’t be at the castle for at least another day. If the hospital is as busy tonight as it was last night, I’m not sure when I’ll see the outside world again.
My phone rings a couple minutes later.
“Hey,” she says. “Stuck at the hospital?”
“Yeah.” I’m sitting in the cafeteria, watching the other doctors, nurses, and hospital staff shuffle from one side of the room to the other. Everyone looks tired.
I take a deep breath. “What was this big news? I don’t think I can wait a whole other day.”
Dahlia laughs, and the sound soothes my soul. I don’t know what I did before her—everything is easier with her in my life. A smile drifts over my lips, and I let out a sigh.
“Well,” she says slowly, savoring the drama of the moment. “Charlie and Elle asked me to be little Charlie’s godmother!”
I smile, leaning my head in my hand as I listen to her. Dahlia’s voice is full of life and love, and it gives me strength.
“That’s great,” I say. “I wonder who they’ll choose as the godfather.”
“I was thinking that maybe we should tell them we’ve been seeing each other.”
I straighten up, my eyebrows arching in surprise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s been a couple of months and nothing disastrous has happened.” She laughs and I can imagine her scrunching her nose. “My parents seem really happy to be back in Farcliff. I think it might be a good time to tell them about us.”
“I agree,” I say. I’ve been waiting for this. As much fun as sneaking around is, what I really want is for everyone to know that Dahlia is mine—and I’m hers.
I want to scream it from the rooftops. I want a royal decree sent out to every house in Farcliff, declaring my love for her to the whole Kingdom.
Dahlia lets out a long sigh. “Thank you for being patient with me.”
“It was easy.”
“Still,” she says. “I appreciate it.”
“I’d better go. My shift is starting soon and I have to take a quick shower. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah. Hey, Damon?”
“Uh huh?”
“I… I’m proud of you.”
My heart skips a beat and I swallow past a lump in my throat. For a second, I thought she was going to tell me she loved me.
The fact that she’s ready to tell our families about us is almost as good.
“I’m proud of you, too. Have fun staring into your microscope tonight.”
She laughs. “Trust me, I will.”
“See you tomorrow.” I hang up the phone and take a deep breath. My lips tug up into a smile and I lean back in my chair, savoring these last moments of calm before my shift.
This period of my life—with medical residency, the controversy with my father, and my relationship with Dahlia—has been the most chaotic time I’ve ever experienced, but it’s also been the most rewarding. I can’t help but feel like I’m heading in the right direction, and that once we make it through this, everything might just work out.
29
DAHLIA
I HANG up the phone with Damon and bask in the happiness of the moment. Things are going to work out—I know they will.
Before Damon and I tell our friends and family we’re together, I’m going to tell him about the baby. I make a vow to myself that the next time I see him, I’ll sit him down and say it to him.
It’s the right thing to do—it’s been too long already. He deserves to know.
Whatever happens after that, happens. I need to trust that he cares about me, and that he’ll care about this baby. I can already feel my love for the child growing, and carrying it on my own is becoming difficult. With my parents here, and being named godmother, it seems like as good a time as ever.
I spend a couple of hours in the lab. By the time I make it back to the castle, the sun is starting to set. Texting Elle to see where she is, I find her in a sunroom at the back of the castle.
She lifts her head when I walk up to her. Baby Charlie is in his stroller, asleep.
“Hi,” she smiles. She looks exhausted, but happy.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down on the bench next to her. I glance around the sunroom, and at the winter scene in front of us, and I sigh. “It’s nice back here.”
“I’m still finding so many new corners in the castle that I didn’t know existed,” she smiles. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see it all.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“It’s been nice having you here,” Elle says, glancing at me. “It makes the castle feel like home.”
“I never thought I’d say it, but I agree,” I laugh. “I actually feel good being here.”
“Your parents seem to have adjusted.”
“They’re happy. Thank you for welcoming them back.”
Elle shakes her head. “It was a no-brainer.”
“Any news on the investigation into the Queen’s death?”
“Charlie doesn’t tell me much,” Elle sighs. “With the baby being born, I haven’t really asked. I know it’s hard on him.”
I nod.
“We know that the Queen was murdered, and we know that the former King was involved,” Elle says. “Beyond that, not much.”
“What about Malerie Farcliff?”
Elle sighs, shaking her head. “No proof of involvement. She was out of the Kingdom at the time.”
“She makes me uncomfortable.”
“She’s strange,” Elle agrees.
I open my mouth to say something, but I’m interrupted by the sunroom door opening. Malerie Farcliff steps through as if summoned by the sound of her own name.
She glances at us and gives Elle the slightest of curtsies. Elle inclines her head. Their greeting is as frosty as the January weather outside.
“Cold day to be in the gardens,” Elle remarks.
“I was checking on the honeybees after last week’s cold snap,” Malerie says, shaking the snow off her shoulders.
I frown. “I thought bees hibernated.”
“Not honeybees,” Lady Malerie says, pinching her lips. “That’s why they make honey—to survive the winter.”
“Huh.” I nod. “I didn’t know that.”
“I brought those bees back from Yemen over a decade ago,” Lady Malerie says, leaning over the stroller to stroke baby Charlie’s cheek. Elle stiffens beside me. “That’s why Farcliff honey is renowned now.”
“Oh, Prince Damon told me that,” I say, remembering my first evening at the castle.
Malerie takes a hand and pushes her sleek, waist-length hair over her shoulder and narrows her eyes at me. “You’ve been spending lots of time with my nephew.”
An uneasy silence falls between us. I clear my throat. “Beekeeping is something I’d love to get into, but I can’t.”
“No?” Lady Malerie says, arching an eyebrow. She shrugs her jacket off and a single bee buzzes out from the sleeve. So she was telling the truth—they don’t hibernate.
I freeze, watching it.
“No, I’m allergic.” My pulse quickens the tiniest bit. I have my EpiPen in my bag, don’t I?
“How unfortunate,” she says, holding out her hand. “Honeybees are some of the loveliest creatures on the planet.”
The insect lands on her finger and starts crawling over the back of her hand. She twists her hand over and cups the bee in her palm. Lady Malerie watches it, and then lifts her eyes to me.
“I believe congratulations are in order.” Her eyes flick to my stomach, and my blood turns to ice. “You’re going to be little Charlie’s godmother.”
Relief floods through me. I thought she knew about the baby. Having Malerie Farcliff spill the beans to Elle was not how I’d envisioned telling everyone.
I nod, keeping my eyes on the insect she’s holding in her hand. My pulse is hammering, and my mouth has gone dry. Did she not hear
me when I said I was allergic?
I don’t mean slightly allergic—I’m not talking a few hives and a swollen throat. I mean I’m anaphylactic. That bee could kill me…
…and my baby.
My hand flies to my stomach, and Malerie’s eyes widen. Her gaze flicks up to my face, and anger blazes in her eyes.
She knows.
“Lady Malerie, if you wouldn’t mind taking that bee outside,” Elle says, pulling the baby to her breast. “Dahlia is allergic and I’d rather not have it so close to the baby.”
“I’d better get going, anyway,” I say, stammering. I stand up and nod to the two women before turning toward the door.
I’ve only taken one step when I hear Malerie say a soft ‘oh’.
A moment later there’s a sharp prick on my finger. Bringing my hand up, I see a bead of blood on the tip of my finger. I frown, staring at it.
What could possibly…?
Then, the dizziness hits. My throat feels itchy and breathing becomes difficult. Still, I don’t understand. I turn slowly toward the two women, still staring at my finger.
Movement on the ground catches my eye.
The bee, writhing around on the floor.
Confusion turns to horror as I stare at my finger again. I try to say something, but no sound comes out. My hand flies to my throat as I try to take a breath. I wheeze, clawing at my neck.
Elle says something panicked. I can’t make out the words. I try to breathe in again, but nothing can make it through. Falling to my knees, I scratch my throat as if that will help me inhale. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. I’m drowning even though there’s no water.
I don’t have my EpiPen—why would I? It’s winter. I collapse onto my side as the dizziness becomes too much. The room is spinning and I can’t think.
Elle screams. I hear the thumping of boots.
My vision goes black, and I’m gone.
30
DAMON
I STUMBLE home after more than fifty hours at the hospital and collapse straight into bed. I haven’t heard from Dahlia all day, but I’m too tired to message her. I’m too tired to talk to anyone.
At least I’m on the day shift now.
One good thing about residency is that the exhaustion lends itself to amazing sleep. I don’t have time to think, or worry, or do anything except shovel some food into my mouth and pass out.
When I wake up again, after only a few short hours, I drag myself out of bed and take a quick shower. I need to be back at the hospital for another shift in less than an hour.
Everything is always rushed, and I don’t have time to think about much. It’s been almost a full day since I heard from Dahlia, so I send her a message to make sure she’s okay. When I walk out of my bedroom and make my way to the garage, the castle is eerily quiet.
Worry tickles the base of my skull. Something doesn’t feel right—but, then again, I haven’t slept more than four hours a night for over two weeks, so how would I know what feels right and what doesn’t? Everything feels like a dream these days.
I hear some heated voices in one of the living rooms, but I don’t have time to stop. I make it to my car and drive back to the hospital.
My shift starts as normal. After a handover from the night shift, I start making my rounds. It’s quieter than it has been all week, and for once the emergency department isn’t overrun. After a few hours, Dr. Adler calls out to me.
“Farcliff!”
I turn to see my attending physician striding down the hall. She waves me toward her. When I reach her, Dr. Adler’s eyes are bright. She nods down the hall.
“Farcliff Royal had a really interesting case come in last night. It’s an incredible learning opportunity, and I think it’s worth going over there. We’ve got enough cover here before the afternoon rounds. Come on.”
My attending motions toward the door, and I fall into step with her.
“I’ll drive,” she says.
“Who’s the patient?”
“Young woman, twenty-three years old,” she starts. “Came in going into anaphylactic shock. She arrived with the Queen of Farcliff, can you believe that?” Dr. Adler glances at me. “Right—of course you can believe that. I forget who you are sometimes.”
Alarm bells start ringing in my head. I touch my phone in my pocket, but it still hasn’t buzzed all day. My heart rate increases and I struggle to take a breath.
“So, the patient?”
“Allergic to bees and got stung by one up at the castle. Talk about unlucky. I thought bees hibernated.”
Didn’t Dahlia say she was allergic to bee stings? Was I imagining that?
Dr. Adler continues. “This way. She’s stable now, but was comatose when she made it to the hospital. That’s not what’s most interesting, though.” Her eyes are gleaming, as if she’s happy about this. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
We drive in silence—the other hospital is only a short drive away. Farcliff Royal is another teaching hospital, and we often have patients and residents transfer from one to the other. When we get there, Adler parks in the staff parking lot and leads me toward the Farcliff Royal Hospital’s ICU.
Last time I was here was for my nephew’s birth. Now…
Adler motions to another hallway and I breathe in through my nose. I need to calm down. It’s not Dahlia. It can’t be. There are many, many other people at the Farcliff Castle—it’s definitely not Dahlia. She’s probably in class or something, and that’s why she hasn’t answered my phone calls. Maybe she’s in the lab with her nose stuck in a book.
Yes, she’s allergic to bees—but so are other people! She wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the hives. It’s probably one of the beekeepers or one of the gardeners who got lost.
She came in with the Queen.
It’s not Dahlia. It can’t be.
I keep telling myself these things, trying to keep my panic at bay. My mouth is dry and I flex and unflex my hands as we ride up the elevator. My vision tunnels and I can hardly see straight. Dr. Adler doesn’t seem to notice. She’s rattling on excitedly. It’s the case of a lifetime, apparently.
When the doors ding open, Dr. Adler motions down the hall.
“Now, the interesting thing is that when she first came in, we weren’t aware that she was pregnant. We only found that out about six hours ago. That’s why I want to show her to you. Obstetrics has seen her, and the baby is fine, even though the mother is in a coma. She’s about two months pregnant. Incredible!”
My heart is racing. My vision starts to blur. Pregnant? In a coma? No way. No fucking way.
She’s not pregnant. We’ve been careful. It’s not her. I’m swinging between total panic and the certainty it isn’t Dahlia in that hospital bed.
We reach the room where the patient is being kept, and I pause just outside the door. Glancing at the whiteboard beside the door, I notice that no one has written the patient’s name. Typically, the patient’s name is displayed outside the room.
Maybe they do things differently at Farcliff Royal Hospital.
Maybe they do things differently for members of the Farcliff Royal Court—people like Dahlia Raventhal.
I’m going to throw up. Cold sweat is dripping down between my shoulder blades, and my vision is going blurry. I can’t face it. I can’t go in there.
If it’s Dahlia, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath.
When I open them back up, Dr. Adler is staring at me funnily. “Everything okay?”
“Didn’t get much sleep,” I answer weakly.
She nods. “Get used to it.”
I look at the door and take a deep breath. It’ll only take me two steps to walk inside, and then I’ll know who the patient is. I’ll know if Dahlia is on that hospital bed.
I’ll know if she’s carrying my child.
My mouth is dry and I clench my hands into fists. I take the first step, sucking a b
reath in and strengthening my resolve. I take another step…
…and my stomach bottoms out.
Dahlia.
My Dahlia. My love.
She’s pale. Her eyes are closed and her arms are laying limply by her sides. Machines beep all around her, but I can’t hear anything. Dr. Adler’s voice fades into the distance and all I can do is stand there and stare.
I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to smash every window in this room and shake Dahlia until she wakes up. My stomach rolls, and I feel like I’m going to vomit.
I can’t make any sense of it.
Anaphylaxis. Coma.
Pregnant.
My breath is coming in short, ragged bursts. I stumble, catching myself on the wall as I bend over double and try to fill my lungs. I can’t get enough oxygen. I can’t think straight. I squeeze my eyes shut and put my head between my legs.
Dr. Adler’s hand appears on my back and vaguely, I hear her calling for help. She drags a chair over and forces me into it, propping my head up and staring into my eyes. A nurse rushes in and I snap back to the moment.
“Damon!”
“I’m okay,” I wheeze. “I’m okay.”
“What the fuck just happened?”
“I know…” I’m still panting. I can’t get a full breath in. My tongue feels too big for my mouth and I can’t string words together properly. I point to the bed. “Dahlia.”
“You know the patient?”
I inhale sharply and squeeze my eyes shut, digging my fingernails into my legs to try to get myself together. The pain sharpens my senses and I finally take a full breath.
“I know Dahlia,” I say. “I’m the father.”
Dr. Adler’s eyes widen. She stumbles backward, staring at me as if I’ve just sprouted another head. I swing my eyes over to Dahlia’s bed, and panic starts to rise in my throat again.
Then, someone clears their throat in the doorway. My heart sinks even lower when I see Mr. and Mrs. Raventhal staring at me with the same expression Dr. Adler has on her face.
I struggle to my feet, opening my mouth to say something—anything. I want to apologize, but what am I apologizing for? I want to tell them I love her—I’ve loved her for months, but how will they believe me? I want to tell them I care about her, and I’ll do anything to bring her back…
Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2) Page 15