Her Royal Physician

by McKenna James

  I pulled my phone out and opened up a tab in an Internet browser, pulling up the same article about Giselle that I had the other night. I scrolled down to the image of her reading in front of the little children, smiling warmly at all of them. My heart twisted in my chest when I realized I might never see her smile at me like that again. The air in my lungs caught in my throat when I realized I’d never get to hold her again.

  I had to turn my phone off. I had so much work to do, and the overbearing weight of our situation felt like it was crushing my shoulders into the floor. When the Obsidian Vow’s horns blasted three times in quick succession, I knew I was out of time. We were about to disembark.

  I abandoned my station and ran. I didn’t know how I was going to get past the royal guards, but I promised I’d think of something when I got there. I sprinted past senior officers, nearly knocked one of the Navy cadets right overboard as I made my way across the deck. The Obsidian Vow had docked quickly, ropes tying us down. I’d normally be ecstatic about finally being back on dry land, but this time, I would have given anything to stay on the ship with Giselle for just a few more minutes.

  A huge crowd of eager shipmates had grouped together on the deck, preventing me from getting any further. They all stood close together, shoulder to shoulder, so there wasn’t any room to push past them. A line of royal bodyguards stood before us to keep any of us from moving any further, effectively creating a barricade so that King Maximillian and Giselle could part the ship first. There was a team of guards already stationed on the dock, vehicles ready to whisk them away.

  I was a couple of rows behind, but I could still manage to see Giselle and King Maximillian as they passed. Her eyes were red, and there were dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept a wink. She still had to hobble on her crutches, but was accompanied on either side by a guard to help her down and off the ship. I cried out to her, but so did every other sailor standing next to me. She couldn’t hear me calling her name over the joyous roar.

  “Giselle!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I could feel the walls of my throat tearing from the sheer volume, followed by the ache of my vocal chords. I tried to elbow my way past, but nobody would budge. I was trapped, but so distressingly close. If only she’d stop for a moment so that I could catch up. If only Giselle would glance over her shoulder and spot me.

  She descended down the ship’s plank in a hurry, quickly swept away by a circle of royal guards into a waiting car. The last thing I saw was the back of her long brunette hair, sweeping gently from side to side as a cool breeze whispered past us. To my dismay, she didn’t once look back for me. She kept her eyes cast down and refused to look at anyone.

  I’m sorry.

  Maybe I really had meant nothing to her, after all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LEO

  ONE YEAR LATER

  War was an incredibly brutal thing.

  No words could really describe the atrocities that I’d seen. No matter where I looked, there was pain and suffering. While I tried to help as many people as I could, there was only so much that I could do while trapped aboard this ship. The Obsidian Vow had only been on patrol, making sure that the Idolian seas were free of Pramorian influence. But we found ourselves caught in the crossfire, mistaken for a Welesian ship bound north. A misinformed Pramorian sub fired a torpedo at us, grazing the starboard bow. Luckily, thanks to the Obsidian Vow’s sturdy build and material, we didn’t sustain enough damage to worry about taking on water, but several of our technicians had been thrown about as a result of the impact. Some were even hit by stray pieces of shrapnel and were now bleeding all over my medical bay.

  “Stay put,” I snapped to the technician. We were running incredibly low on anesthetic, so I couldn’t provide the poor man with any painkillers. He’d taken a scrap piece of metal to the eye. He kept wriggling and writhing in agony, making it near impossible for me to get a better look. I sighed in frustration, “I’m trying to save your eye, here.”

  “What if I lose it, doc?” he whimpered. “I can’t lose my vision.”

  “If that’s the case, stay still. I need to remove it and see how bad the damage is.”

  “It hurts,” he groans.

  “Do I need to tie your hands down to the cot?”

  With that, the technician set his jaw and lay as still as he could, gripping at the thin white bed sheets. I dove in immediately, knowing full well that I had other patients to get to. By the looks of things, the piece of metal—which was sticking out of his brow—had just grazed his cornea. With the amount of blood that was dripping from his wound, it was difficult to tell just how long it was going to take for his eye to heal. Full recovery was obviously impossible, but at least he wouldn’t lose his vision.

  “I’m going to remove the shrapnel,” I explained as calmly as possibly.

  “Will I still be able to see, doc? Please, give me some good news.”

  “You’ll be able to see,” I said slowly. But not well enough to keep your position, I bit back.

  With a pair of tweezers, I managed to pry the foreign object from the man’s face in one piece, but it was obvious that the damage had been done. The problem with shrapnel was that it never left a clean wound. The pieces tumbled through the air, shred whatever stood in its way to cause as much injury as possible. That was why grenades, mines, and bombs were a military doctor’s worst nightmare. The best-case scenarios were always bullet wounds, preferably with higher-caliber bullets. Provided the patient didn’t take a direct hit to a vital organ, the piercing nature of a bullet was easier to deal with and clean up than that of a concussive explosion.

  “Doctor Pratchett?” one of my nurses called from the other side of the medical bay. “We need your help here.”

  I sighed and quickly applied a bandage over the man’s eye, taping it in place. “Don’t touch this,” I warned. “I’ll be back with an eyepatch for you later.”

  “An eyepatch? Like a pirate?”

  “Just until your eye heals,” I confirmed. I rose quickly and dashed over to the nurse who’d called me. She was nervously hovering by the door. “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s Captain Stanley,” she blurted out. “He wants to see you.”

  “Now? Doesn’t he have any idea what kind of mess I’m dealing with here?”

  “He said it was important. He mentioned something about our rudder not working. We might be stranded here a couple of days.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. That wasn’t good news at all. If we were caught in another attack, deliberate or no, we wouldn’t have enough manpower or supplies to take care of the crew. We’d already been delayed by several days due to terrible storms, and there was no telling how long it was going to take us to get back to port. I closed my eyes and did my best to think, pushing past the throbbing in my head and the pressure building up in my eye sockets.

  “Okay,” I grumbled. “I’ll go see him. Can you watch over my station until I get back?”

  “Yes, Doctor Pratchett.”

  I hurried down the narrow hallway of the Obsidian Vow. People were rushing past one another, barking orders at each other in confusion and disarray. It was easy to get lost in the ruckus, but I kept my mind as focused and clear as possible. No matter how dark the coming days would be, no matter how stressful and hectic, I could always rely on my memories of Giselle to get me through the worst of it. As I hurried across the deck to meet with the captain, I thought of her.

  I sometimes had a hard time remembering the sound of her voice or the shape of her face. But I was luckily able to pull up articles and news interviews that Princess Giselle had been featured in. She was more of a public figure these days, stepping out into the world as a capable young princess. I didn’t think she ever thought of me as much as I did her, but she was my secret weapon against the madness that was war and conflict.

  Overhead, the screaming of jet engines tore through my thoughts. Everybody on deck looked up in horror as a trail of
black smoke tailed a pilot who was now in a tailspin. My eyes widened in horror as I realized the plane was crashing.

  And it was headed straight for us.

  “Take cover!” I shouted at the top of my lungs to the crewmates standing nearby. “Everybody, take co–”

  The terrifying crash rattled the entire ship. I could feel the heat of fire on my face, singeing the tips of my hair. Smoke swelled in my nostrils, stung my eyes. My head was spinning wildly, and I was left feeling disoriented and nauseous. My joints felt like they were swollen and bruised, and the muscles in my back ached with a vengeance. I’d somehow fallen over. Or more accurately, I’d been knocked back by the explosion of the crash, right into the guard wall of the ship. Had I been standing anywhere else, I would have been knocked right overboard.

  The corners of my vision were beginning to blur as frantic shouting eventually overcame the awful ringing in my ears and the rush of blood through my head. I blinked a couple of times to get my eyes to refocus. I couldn’t make out any hard objects, only motions, lights, and shadows. My body kicked in before my brain did, drawn to the screams of my trapped crew members. I pulled together what little strength I could muster and dragged myself onto my feet. There was nothing but pain and suffering, and my overwhelming need to help, even at the cost of my own safety.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Giselle

  I liked formal parties like this one. It was my cousin Alexandra’s birthday. She wanted to turn it into a grand charity event to raise money for medical missions in Weles, especially in regions hit hardest by the war. It was a great cause and a great time, so really, what was there for me to complain about?

  The party was hosted in the Idolian palace gardens at Father’s insistence. With all of the craziness going on, Idolia had become a bit of a safe haven in the world of political engagement. The Idolian Crown and parliament had decided to take a neutral stance. We would neither engage with the Pramorian Empire, but we wouldn’t help Weles in their retaliation either. We could, however, support charitable groups and indirectly assist Weles that way, but that was a sort of unspoken secret. Since Idolia didn’t have to worry about Pramorian attack, we knew Alexandra’s birthday wouldn’t be met with any unexpected—and potentially violent—interruptions.

  I was sitting on a stone bench by one of the topiaries. It was shaped like an elephant with two giant tusks that curved out before it. Little solar-powered lights illuminated the gravel path, along with the twinkling stars and the silver moon above. I had a champagne flute in my hand, but I wasn’t really drinking. I was drunk on the pretty fairy lights the house attendant’s had set up about the gardens and lulled into a state of sleepiness by the sweet jazz music the live band was playing.

  I shivered against the evening chill, pulling my black cardigan closed over my light blue silk evening dress. The silk was embroidered with fine golden threads, a hypnotizing floral pattern running down the side. I had matching sapphire earrings dangling from my ears, along with a delicate string of pearls around my neck. I fiddled with my necklace absentmindedly, a little dazed and more than ready to turn in for the night. But as the hosting family of the party, I couldn’t leave just yet. Since Alexandra’s birthday party and accompanying cause had garnered so much attention, a number of news outlets and reporters had been invited to cover the story. If I left, it wouldn’t look very good.

  Alexandra skipped over and sat next to me. I envied her sixteen-year-old level of energy. I was only four years her senior, but I felt exhausted all the time for some reason. It might have been a good idea to consult the palace physician. Maybe I wasn’t eating right or getting enough exercise. Either way, I was impressed that she was still as bubbly and electric as she was at the start of the evening.

  “Are you having fun, Giselle?” she asked sweetly.

  I forced a polite smile onto my lips. It was friendly, but not genuine. Anything for the numerous cameras about me, right? “Of course, I am. Are you?”

  Alexandra clapped her hands together and squealed. “I am! Best sweet sixteen ever.”

  “Did you happen to open my present yet?”

  “No, not yet. Which one is it?”

  I tipped my head in the direction of the massive pile of gifts next to the marble fountain. “It’s the biggest one there.”

  “I’ll be sure to open that one first. Mother doesn’t want me to open them until the press leaves.”

  “Why not?”

  “She doesn’t think it’s polite to broadcast to the world all the luxuries I’ve been given. Especially with the war going on. She says it’s too boastful and insensitive.”

  I nodded. “Your mother’s a very smart woman.”

  Behind us, somebody giggled. Alexandra and I turned to see her mother, Queen Martha of Brirus. She was dressed in all red, an incredibly lucky color in Brirusian culture. “You’ve got that right, honey,” she cooed. She sat next to her daughter on the bench. “You look more and more like my little sister every day, Giselle. How have you been?”

  “I’ve been fine, Aunt Martha. Thank you for asking.”

  “You’ll never guess who I ran into.” She giggled as she fondly played with Alexandra’s long black hair. “Steve and Joanna. Did you know that they’re getting married?”

  Alexandra gasped. “Really? I hadn’t heard.”

  “They just announced their engagement. They think they’re going to have a spring wedding next year. You didn’t hear that from me, though. Nothing’s been set in stone.”

  “That’s…” I had to remind myself to keep my smile. Talk of marriage wasn’t exactly my idea of fun. “That’s great,” I finished.

  “What about you, Giselle?” asked Aunt Martha. “Do I hear wedding bells for my favorite niece?”

  I laughed and tried to brush it off. “No, no. I’m not even thinking about marriage yet.”

  “Really? I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you’re not getting any younger, honey. Teresa was about your age when she married your father.”

  My smile stiffened.

  Alexandra patted her mother excitedly on the lap. “Did you hear Bartholomew and Wynona are having another baby?”

  Aunt Martha gasped. “Another one? That makes seven, doesn’t it? Goodness gracious! Their house must be an absolute mess.”

  If it were up to me, I’d like a house full of babies so I can spoil them every one rotten.

  I smiled as the old memory popped into my head. It had been quite some time since I’d thought about a particular Navy physician. I couldn’t recall his voice or his pronunciation of words, just the fact that he had said them. Part of me wondered what Leo was up to. After almost a year had gone by, was he still with the Navy? Had he gone on to assist with medical efforts in Weles like he said he wanted to? If I recalled correctly, Leo had a niece. Was he finally back home to spoil and love her like the good uncle I no doubt knew he was?

  All this talk about marriage and babies had me wondering if I missed my chance at something real. Nathanial and Father had been in talks for quite some time now about setting up an appointment with the royal matchmaker. Yes, that was right. We had a royal matchmaker, maker of royal matches. It was an archaic position, but apparently my father thought it was a necessary one to keep around.

  I wondered how Leo was doing. What was he up to? Had he met someone else?

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he moved on. A lot could change in a year. Maybe he found himself a nice wife who wanted as many children as he did. Maybe he opened up a private practice and was helping locals manage their health. I wondered if his imaginary new wife woke up every morning in his arms knowing she was the luckiest woman alive.

  “Giselle?” called Alexandra. “Are you okay?”

  I took in a sharp inhale through the nose and nodded, finally noticing that a reporter had walked up to the three of us. “Oh, yes. I’m alright.”

  “I’m with the Times,” explained the reporter. “I was wondering if it would be okay if I took a couple o
f candid shots of the three of you for tomorrow’s headline?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  The reporter pulled out a massive camera with a comically large lens and pointed it in our direction. I smiled a practiced smile. I’d gotten pretty good at looking pleasant. The more I did it, the easier it became. It was simpler to put on a mask than let everyone know how truly miserable I was deep down inside.

  Alexandra wrapped her arm around my shoulder and grinned. “Smile for the camera!”

  I did so with great, but painful, ease.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Leo

  The Idolian Medal of Honor. I sometimes had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  Roughly three months after disembarking from the Obsidian Vow, I decided to sign up for the next available tour on a much larger aircraft carrier. Physicians at sea were always in high demand, so I was brought aboard almost as quickly as I volunteered for the position. It hadn’t been in my initial plan to return to sea so quickly, but I hadn’t been thinking straight then. I still had thoughts of Giselle plaguing my mind, and the thought of accidently running into her was just too much for me to deal with. I set sail as soon as possible, knowing full well that a mind preoccupied with work was better than sitting alone at home thinking about the princess.

  We wound up getting into a bit of trouble while out at sea. Our aircraft carrier was supposed to be patrolling the waters between Weles and Idolia, ensuring that the Pramorian Empire didn’t sneak too far into our territory. On a routine patrol, one of our fighter pilots was mistaken for a Welesian and shot down by Pramorian dogfighters. The pilot tried to get back to the ship for emergency assistance, but wound up losing control at the last minute and crashing right into our deck.