Royal Christmas Baby

by Renna Peak

  He pecks the tip of my nose. “Are you certain? I know the doctor said it was safe tonight, but if you aren’t sure—”

  I shake my head, barely able to contain my excitement. “Oh, I’m sure. Take me to bed, Your Highness.”

  He grins as his grip around me tightens, and he backs me toward the bedroom. “With pleasure, Princess.”

  Andrew

  I stay awake for a long time after we finally join for the first time in months, just holding her. Her back is pressed against my chest, her soft, warm skin right up against mine. My hand slides over her belly, tracing the curve. It still amazes me sometimes what her body is doing, how she’s growing a miracle inside her.

  I hope my gesture tonight was enough to assuage her fears, at least for now. But I know that neither of us will breathe easy until our child is here and we know he or she is healthy and safe.

  And there’s nothing I can do but wait. My life and future happiness hinge on the fate of this child. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens. But there is nothing I can do. I’m completely helpless in this situation. My child’s health is out of my hands.

  Victoria is sleeping soundly beside me, her breaths moving slowly and evenly in and out. She seems to have found some peace, but somehow, easing her fears has only seemed to increase my own.

  I push the sheets off of me and climb out of bed, suddenly unable to sit still. After tucking the blankets carefully around my sleeping wife again, I quickly pull on my pants and shirt and slip my feet into my shoes.

  The air outside is colder than ever, the wind sharp on my face. The twinkling decorative lights are still on, casting soft orbs of light on the surrounding layer of white.

  I don’t know where I’m going. I just walk. My headache is worse than it was earlier, as is the ache in my back. My stomach, for once, is more or less settled, but I don’t know how long that will last. I crack my knuckles as I trudge across the grounds, trying to take my mind off my unborn child and onto something I can control.

  Like my relationship with my brother. I haven’t spoken to Leopold since Victoria told me Eleanor’s wishes, and I’m still frustrated by this entire situation. Victoria’s pregnancy was a surprise to all of us—it’s not like we were trying to steal the role of heir away from Matthew. Yes, it’s an awkward situation, but unlike my brother, I’d rather get everything out in the open, not to let our emotions fester. Is that so much to ask? Why can’t we just let everything out and then do something about it?

  I drag my hand through my hair. That’s what it all comes down to—I want to do something. Anything. Whatever it takes to feel like I’m in control of my life again. I hate treading water.

  My headache is almost blinding by the time I reach the gymnasium. I push on anyway, too frustrated and restless to go back to bed. My shoes don’t offer nearly enough protection against the snow, and my pants are soaked up to the knee, but the chill helps to clear my head, somewhat. I reach into my pocket out of habit, feeling around for the piece of Atalanta, but then I remember it’s in a more important place now.

  I walk into the gardens beyond the gymnasium. Past a fountain that’s been shut off for the winter, around a bed of trimmed-back roses. When I reach the edge of the orchard, I pause.

  In the dim glow from the palace lights, the leafless trees look eerie against the white snow. For a long time, I just stand there, staring at their dark, spindly forms.

  At the beginning of Victoria’s pregnancy, I was so thrilled that I let my hope overcome everything else. I told myself that everything was going to be fine because, otherwise, what was the point of this miracle happening for us? I held onto that hope. When Victoria suffered, I reminded her of it again and again. Now I wonder if I was really trying to convince her or myself.

  And there’s nothing I can do…

  I lean against a tree, all of the energy draining from my body. My head is pulsing now, throbbing in pain, but all I can do is rub my temple as I stare down at my feet.

  Tears well in my eyes—tears I didn’t realize I’d been holding back. I press the palms of my hands against my eyes, trying to keep them in, but that only makes my headache worse. It feels like my skull is about to explode. The back of my throat burns with the effort.

  So I stop trying. I pull my hands away and let the tears fall. They run down my cheeks, freezing on my skin, making my face feel tight.

  I can’t remember the last time I cried. It’s not a luxury I can usually afford.

  I stand there, leaning against the tree, until some of the tension in my head releases. It’s not enough, but it’s all I can allow myself. I’m not making anything better by standing here feeling sorry for myself.

  I rub my cheeks with my stiff, nearly frozen fingers, brushing away any of the frozen trails of evidence. I’m not helping anyone, least of all myself, by wallowing in self-pity. That’s worse than doing nothing at all.

  Convinced that I’ve pulled myself together, I trudge back across the grounds toward the gardener’s cottage. If I’m going to help anyone, it’s going to be by getting some sleep.

  The wind is picking up now, the sharp gusts seeming to cut right through my clothes. Snow has started falling again, big, thick flakes of it. We’re definitely in for a harsh winter, if we’re getting snowfall like this in early December. Even with the faint, foggy glow cast by the lights, I can hardly see ten feet ahead of me. This is beginning to get dangerous.

  I slip on a loose cobblestone on the path, proving my point. I groan as I land on my ass. Sharp pains shoot up my back as I stumble to my feet again.

  It feels like a miracle to reach the cottage again, and I’m grateful for the rush of heat that hits me when I open the door. My entire body is so stiff with cold that I’m clumsier than usual as I make my way inside. Quietly, I undress in the sitting room, trying not to bump into any furniture as I awkwardly try to remove my frozen pants.

  When I’m done, I sneak back into the bedroom, silently crossing the floor, and I climb back into bed. Once the covers are safely around me, I reach for Victoria, meaning to pull her against my body again.

  But my fingers meet empty air.

  “Victoria?” I sit up, feeling around in the darkness, but the other side of the bed is empty.

  She’s probably just gone to the washroom, I tell myself. I get up and go over to the washroom door, gently rapping my knuckle against it.

  “Victoria?” I call again. But there’s no answer.

  I twist around and turn on the light. The bedroom is empty. And her clothes are gone from the cottage floor.

  “Victoria?” I call, but I already know there will be no response.

  She’s not here in the cottage, which means she’s somewhere out there.

  Victoria

  When I woke up, I was sure I must have been dreaming. But there was no mistaking the pain that shot across my belly—it would have knocked me over if I hadn’t already been lying down.

  And Andrew was gone.

  I know the stress is getting to him. We’ve been counting down the days until we could truly be together again, and while having him near me tonight was wonderful, part of me knew all of him wasn’t there. His mind is elsewhere—the same as it’s always been.

  And now I’m trudging through the snow alone, on my way back to the palace. But before I get even half-way, I’m doubled over with another contraction, this one even stronger than the first.

  It’s too early, I think. I know the doctor said it was safe now, but there are still three weeks before the baby is due. Three weeks until Christmas, and part of me is sure that if she or he arrives even a second before the due date, disaster is going to strike.

  I should call him, but I didn’t think to bring my phone. I thought… Well, I suppose I thought he would be with me for the night—that I wouldn’t need my phone since my husband would be by my side. But I should have guessed that he’d go off on one of his walks as soon as I fell asleep.

  As soon as the contraction passes, I start
again for the palace. The cold wind bites at my face as I carefully make my way down the path. I’m thankful for the small lights that illuminate the walkway—the snow is falling so hard now that the path is difficult to make out from the surrounding landscape.

  I follow the lights back to rear entrance, stopping every now and then to breathe through another contraction.

  I don’t hesitate—and I don’t stop to search for where Andrew might have gone. He could be anywhere—his office, the gym, our suite. I’m not about to try to hunt him down, not considering I’m having a contraction every two or three minutes.

  God, every two or three minutes? I really must be in labor…

  I make my way to the small hospital area located deep inside the palace. They don’t normally staff it in the middle of the night, but there’s a nurse there now, almost as though she was expecting me.

  “Your Highness?” Her brows draw together as I stumble into the entry. “Is everything all right?”

  “I…” I’m overtaken with another contraction at that moment, and I hunch over my large belly, grabbing at it with both hands.

  She waits with me as the contraction passes, and takes me by the elbow. “Come with me.”

  I nod, letting her lead me back to one of the examination rooms.

  “Is the baby moving?” She looks at me with concern in her gaze.

  “I…I don’t know.” I clutch at my abdomen again, almost willing the child to move inside me. I can’t remember the last time I felt it move—was it before the last contraction? Or maybe the one before that?”

  She gives me a small nod, pulling a machine from the drawer. She lifts my shirt to place the end of it against my belly, and a moment later, the reassuring sound of my baby’s heartbeat fills the room.

  She smiles at me, putting the machine away. “The heartbeat sounds good. I’ll notify the doctor that you’re here. She should be along in a few minutes.” She nods at me again as she leaves me alone.

  I should have asked her to contact Andrew. But how would she be able to do that? He might have his phone on him—I’m sure she could call him and let him know. But what if he doesn’t? It wasn’t as though I checked with him before he left me alone in the middle of the night.

  It’s only a few minutes—and another contraction—later when the doctor enters.

  She doesn’t say a word, just looks me up and down for a moment. “Today was the first day I said you were allowed relations with your husband.”

  “I know. And we didn’t do anything before today, I promise.”

  She motions for me to lie back on the examination table, and I do.

  “If you’re in labor, everything should go smoothly. The baby is in the right position, it’s big enough—”

  “But it’s three weeks early.” I try not to let tears fill my eyes at the words. It just seems too early.

  She nods. “I know. And we’ll get you to the hospital in the city if we need to. But for the moment, we need to do a few checks.”

  It takes a few minutes, but she completes whatever it is she needs to do. She snaps her gloves off and smiles down at me. “How much water have you had to drink today?”

  “Water?” I can feel my forehead wrinkle with confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…I think you’re a little dehydrated. It’s what’s causing the false labor.”

  “False…labor.” I shake my head. “How can this be false labor when it hurts this much?”

  She smiles at me again for a long moment. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but it will feel much different—much worse—when it is real labor.” She pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to give you some intravenous fluids tonight, and after that, I want you drinking plenty of water until this little one is ready to be born. Okay?”

  I nod. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Good.” She looks around the room, almost as if she’s noticing for the first time that Andrew isn’t there. “Where is your husband?”

  “That’s a good question.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. But I think maybe we need to be more worried about him than about me or this baby.”

  Andrew

  I’m frantic.

  She couldn’t have gone far, I know. It’s the middle of the bloody night. But it’s also snowing outside, coming down heavier with every passing second.

  I charge back out into the cold. I don’t know where she’s gone, but I’m going to find her if it bloody kills me. What was she thinking, going out into this weather on her own?

  But I already know the answer to that—she must have woken up and found me gone. For all I know, she’s out there looking for me.

  I curse to myself, running a hand through my hair to dislodge some of the snow. She still should have known better. She knows I can take care of myself—and I’m not the one who’s pregnant.

  There are footsteps too small to be mine just outside the cottage. But as soon as I’m past the protective cover of the eaves, they disappear, already filled in with fresh snowfall. I have no idea which way she’s gone.

  I stand on the path, looking in both directions. Everything is dim and gray. The garden lanterns offer just enough light to show me the mounds of snow stretching away in either direction.

  “Victoria!” I call.

  The crisp breeze carries my voice away. I stand still, listening for a response, but I hear nothing.

  The question is, where would she go at this hour? Back to the palace or somewhere off the grounds? For the time being, I don’t let myself think about the possibility that she might have headed off the grounds—Victoria might be struggling right now, but I don’t think she’d leave the palace—or the country—without telling me.

  I rub my hands together for warmth, trying to make a decision. If I’d thought ahead, I would have brought gloves and a scarf and some proper boots out here to the cottage, but I’m stuck with what I’ve got. I can worry about warming up again when I’ve found Victoria. And in the meantime, at least the cold distracts me somewhat from the pressure building up in my skull again.

  Making a decision, I take a sharp right and head off down the path. When Victoria is troubled, there’s one place I can almost always find her. I move quickly through the darkness and the snow, ignoring the throbbing ache in my left buttocks that shoots down my leg from when I fell earlier. I’ll be covered in bruises and frostbite by the end of tonight, but I don’t care.

  When I reach the gymnasium, I practically spring through the doors. But the building is dark inside.

  “Victoria?” I call, just in case. My fingers find the light switch and flick it on, illuminating the large, high-ceilinged athletics room. But there’s no one here.

  My stomach tightens, but I refuse to give up this easily. I flip off the light and return outside.

  If she’s looking for you, where would she go? I ask myself.

  The answer to that doesn’t help. She knows I often take walks around the grounds, making wide, sweeping circles through the gardens and around the orchards. If she’s looking for me, she could be anywhere.

  I’ve lost feeling in the tip of my nose and at the ends of my fingers. The chill in the wind makes my eyes water, but I brush the back of my sleeve across my brow and keep going.

  I don’t know where I’m heading. But I’ll stay out here all night if that’s what it takes to find her.

  “Victoria!” I call into the darkness again. “Victoria!”

  God, if anything has happened to her… I try not to let myself think of that. It makes me ill even to consider it.

  “Victoria!”

  The golden garden lights no longer seem warm and helpful. Instead, they look ghostly. Panic has made my throat tight, but I call again. I’ll call for her until I can’t speak. My head is throbbing again, and this exertion isn’t helping.

  And then, just when I’m about to start losing my mind, I hear something on the wind.

  I twist around on the path, nearly slipping again.

&nb
sp; “Victoria?” I call once more. My voice is raw.

  Again, I hear a voice calling to me.

  I move toward the sound, hurrying along the path, my shoes sliding on the icy stones beneath the thin layer of snow. The voice continues to call out, pulling me along.

  I’m heading toward the palace, I realize as the large shape of my home rises above me.

  And then I hear footsteps coming toward me.

  “Victoria,” I call again.

  But it’s not Victoria who appears in the snow ahead of me, but rather a handful of Royal Guards.

  “Your Highness,” one of them says, managing to execute a quick bow while still moving toward me. “Thank goodness we’ve found you.”

  “Found me? Victoria—”

  “Is safely inside the palace, Your Highness,” he assures me as he takes me by the upper arm. Another guard attaches himself to my other side.

  “I don’t need your assistance,” I tell them. “I just want to see my wife.”

  Both seem reluctant to let me go, but I wriggle from their grasps and hurry toward the palace. They’ve said she’s safe, but I won’t believe it until I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

  One of the guards keeps pace with me.

  “She’s in the physicians’ quarters, Your Highness.”

  I nearly stumble. “The physicians’ quarters?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. She…” The rest of his words are lost as I pull ahead, racing toward the palace. When I reach the steps, I take them two at a time. Then I sprint toward the physicians’ quarters. When I reach them, I charge through the doors.

  And I find Victoria lying in a bed, an IV hooked up to her arm. All my worst fears hit me at once.

  “Victoria,” I say, falling to my knees next to the bed, my arm around her. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her.

  “You’re freezing,” she says.

  “I’m sorry.” I force myself to straighten, even though it pains me not to be closer to her. “God, I thought you were…” My voice is scratchy and rough. “Why did you leave the cottage?”