by Geneva Lee
“Alexander Cambridge, King of fucking England,” I snapped back.
“Sir,” the man’s frustration immediately shifted to panic, “you can’t go up in this storm. We can’t allow—”
“Then arrest me,” I shot back, “but first give me my goddamn flight clearance.”
The blades sliced through the air, sending rain ricocheting across the windscreen as I opened the throttle and pulled on the collective, pressing my foot to the left rudder petal. I’d flown in worse conditions, but I’d had a much cooler head. Partly due to my training with the Royal Air Force and partially because I hadn’t cared if I returned from any of the missions I flew. I tried to find that place of detachment now.
Focus on the mission objectives.
Work from your list.
Don’t think too far ahead.
In weather like this I needed to stay in the moment or I was fucked. The thought of Clara, bloodied and soaked on the pavement, swam to my mind and I shoved it deep inside me.
“Focus.” Fear couldn’t control me. Fear couldn’t save Clara. Only I could do that. Her life was all that mattered, even if she walked away from me after.
The helicopter shuddered when I shifted from ascent to forward motion, but I adjusted smoothly despite the rain. I knew that only good pilots could land in the dark. Only great pilots could land in a storm in the dark. For the first time in my life I thanked God that I’d been sent to Afghanistan. Had every moment of my life been leading me to her? Had my mistakes actually served a purpose?
Edward’s voice filled my ear, relaying information about the status of the rescue team with air traffic interrupting every few minutes to remind me that touching down was going to prove difficult—and that getting back up in the wind might be impossible.
I beat on against the rain, slicing a path through the storm. Of course she had to be in the middle of fucking nowhere with no true trauma center nearby. Not one that I trusted to treat her. I wanted to hold her and shake her and kiss her at the same time. I sucked in a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the reality that I’d be unable to do any of those things immediately.
A burst of wind swiped at the side of the chopper, rattling the entire vessel. If my calculations were correct, I would arrive any moment, but there were no flares on the ground yet.
“I hope one of you bastards has the sense to put down some flares,” I muttered, forgetting my headset was on.
“Norris has been in contact with the local police,” Edward reassured me over my headset. “He’s given them strict instructions for handling the scene. He was about half an hour out from the scene and should arrive shortly after you.”
It hardly made me feel better. I should have sent him after her immediately. Then this would never have happened. But I hadn’t expected her to leave London, because I hadn’t realized until it was too late that she was really leaving.
“Hey, get everyone off this line,” I told him. “I want to talk to you.”
A few moments later, my brother spoke again. “Just me, Alex.”
“If I don’t make it out of this. Marry David. Two Kings aren’t going to destroy the monarchy.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” Edward said wryly.
“Who the fuck cares. You’ll get to make the rules.”
“Sorry, I’m not interested in the position,” he informed me. “You’re coming back after you take care of my sister. Get her and that baby back here in one piece.”
“Will do,” I said in a clipped tone, unwilling to allow the emotions brewing inside me to boil over. I shut off my headset and shut down my brain. No one could help me land this now. It was up to me. Wind caught the rudder and I clutched the cyclic, white-knuckled, fighting to maintain control as the helicopter threatened to spin.
A vision of Clara, her porcelain skin glowing, flashed through my mind. Sunshine fell in sheets over the room, brightening the tranquil space and lighting upon her. She smiled shyly and glanced down at the bundle sleeping peacefully in her arms.
I jerked back on the cyclic, regaining control but losing the image. A moment later I armed the brake for descent and began to lower the aircraft. “I’m coming, Poppet. Just hold on.”
The helicopter touched down roughly and my head whipped forward. I might be a little out of practice, but I would take it. On the ground the storm had abated, lifting the cloud cover enough for me to get a handle on my position as soon as my feet hit the soggy ground.
Asphalt glistened in the moonlight and I slogged toward it, battling the wet, overgrown grass of the countryside. I couldn’t risk blocking the road for incoming emergency crews, but I was within a mile of the accident if all the information fed to me in the air was accurate. I was close to her, but the thought did nothing to soothe the savage fear flooding through me. Emergency lights blinked just over the hill.
Focus.
Don’t think too far ahead.
I locked my panic into the darkest recesses of my mind and forced myself forward.
When I reached the road I saw it. The 4x4 rested on its roof, completely flipped onto the shoulder, a pool of shattered glass surrounding it. It wasn’t tall enough. The frame had bent in the crash. Before, it had comforted me that she’d taken the Range Rover—but seeing it now I knew it didn’t matter. Bracing myself, I raced forward but the closer I got to the violent scene the harder I fought to focus as old memories seeped into the moment.
The other car burst into flames and I ran to it, pushing past a fireman, but when I reached it there was nothing but the crushed remains of an older four door. The entire driver-side had been peeled back like tin can. Sarah’s dead eyes bored into me from the driver’s seat. I stumbled back with a gasp but when I forced myself to look again, a stranger stared blankly at me. He was dead. There was nothing I could do for him.
Clara. Focus.
“Sir!” A police officer hauled me away from the car, but it only made the rift between reality and the past worse.
The scene bombarded me, overwhelming my senses with latent memories of the crash that killed my sister. The cloying smell of spilled petrol hung in the air and I fought a wave of revulsion. This wasn’t six years ago. This was now.
But the weight of the moment collapsed onto my shoulders—the acrid scent of blood and burnt rubber nearly proving too much.
There were going to be questions. How would I explain this to my father?
Jonathan tugged at me, but I held her tightly as if I could breathe life back into her. Why hadn’t I driven? They shouldn’t have been at the club.
A strong arm jerked me onto my feet, and I snapped out of the flashback to find Norris pulling me out of the street.
“Get yourself together!” But I didn’t wait for him to continue. I wrenched free and sprinted the last few meters to the 4x4.
“Hey.” A medic caught my arm, trying to hold me back, but I shoved him out of the way. It was surrounded by first responders, one of which was rushing forward with a hydraulic cutter.
Norris caught up to me as I reached the 4x4. “Don’t let the past come between you. Not now that you have promised ‘til death do us part.”
His words tore through me. I had promised her. And all I’d done was make her question the sanctity of my vow.
I fell to my knees at the side of the crushed vehicle, barely aware of the glass and metal I landed on. Behind me, Norris intervened on my behalf with the first responders as I crawled through the battered window.
Clara’s head hung like a rag doll. Blood ran jagged across her face. She wasn’t moving, but she was wearing her seatbelt
Good girl.
I squeezed inside and reached for the hand that rested protectively on her belly.
It wouldn’t look like this if she was… It would be limp.
But all the logic in the world didn’t make it any easier to press my thumb to her wrist. Clara uttered a soft cry when my fingers closed over her skin and the tiny shred of hope I’d tucked away inflated.
But she didn’t stir again.
“Don’t move her,” an impatient, unfamiliar voice admonished me from outside the car. I’d ruffled someone’s feathers. “We’re going to cut away the door.”
“How long?” I barked, knitting my fingers through hers.
“Not long. Please come out.”
“I’ll come out when she’s out.”
“Your Highness…”
“Exactly.” That put an end to it.
When they were ready for the saw, I reluctantly shimmied free and a rough hand closed over mine, helping me to my feet.
“They say they won’t know until she’s out,” Norris said in a low voice.
“Did you inform them about the baby?”
He jerked his head in the affirmative. “You won’t be able to keep the pregnancy a secret after tonight.”
“I don’t care,” I murmured, my eyes glued to the extrication in front of me. “As long as she makes it, we’ll handle the fallout.”
Norris paused and regarded me for a moment with wise, sad eyes. “Pray, for her sake, they both make it.”
A flurry of activities startled us apart, and we rushed forward as the last of the car gave way to the saw.
“Gently,” a medic yelled as they freed her from the seatbelt. She sagged against them when they cut the buckle.
I pushed my way forward as they tethered her to a stretcher. “What now?”
“We’ll take her back to city and hope –”
“No hope. No try. She makes it tonight. Got that?”
“Unfortunately she’s lost a lot of blood and there’s the possibility of internal bleeding. I need you to prepare yourself. I can’t guarantee your wife or your child will survive this.”
My hands were around his shirt collar before I processed what I was doing. “Unacceptable!”
Norris shoved me back.
“How can we help?” he asked.
“Just follow the ambulance.” The medic glared at me as he adjusted his shirt.
“How far is it?”
He hesitated. “An hour.”
“Does she have an hour?”
“We don’t have a choice, sir.”
“I can get her there. If you can keep her stable.”
“Civilians generally don’t—”
“Do I look like a civilian?” I stopped him. I whipped around to Norris. “Make sure she’s secure and stable. The helicopter is half a kilometer due north.”
“I have to protest,” the medic interjected. “Despite your experience, flying a patient takes—”
“I learned to fly when I was fighting for something I didn’t believe in—and I never lost a soldier.” I stared him directly in the eye, for once grateful to be born King. “She’s safe with me.”
Chapter Thirty
“Your Majesty,” the doctor bowed his head in formal greeting.
I waved my hand, losing patience with everyone’s formality. “Alexander. How is my wife?”
“She suffered a fairly traumatic brain injury that’s caused her to slip into a coma.”
I sank into a chair and nodded for him to continue. “This isn’t uncommon following severe trauma. The good news is that we’ve got her oxygen levels stabilized.”
“When will she wake up?”
“That’s difficult to say. Some patients come out of comas in hours or days…” He trailed away but I knew what he was leaving out.
Others never came out.
“The hospital has been placed on lockdown to ensure…”
He prattled on but I didn’t care. It was too much to wrap my head around. Hours ago I thought I’d lost her and it nearly killed me when she walked out. Now…
“And the baby?” I forced myself to ask. I’d seen the car, so I expected his answer.
“It’s too early to say. We focused on your wife’s condition, because, frankly, the baby can’t survive without the mother at this stage.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, but it was anything but comforting. “Call your family. Don’t be alone.”
Alone. The concept echoed through me.
There were people to call. People who would help and those who needed to know. But without her, I would always be alone. I tugged my phone out of my pocket and stared at it. Norris was addressing any possible hospital security issues. I should call Belle and her parents. But maybe it was because of the hopelessness yawning inside me, draining every bit of fight I had left, I couldn’t bring myself to dial. It seemed impossible that the whole world didn’t already know on some subconscious level.
The door to the waiting room opened and I sucked in a deep breath. More news already couldn’t be good. But when I saw my brother I began to cry.
Edward took the chair beside me and just waited. No questions. No status updates. Having him here made me feel better and worse at the same time. His presence comforted me but it also meant this was real.
It meant I was losing her, too.
I was losing everything.

I resisted Edward’s suggestions that I rest, choosing instead to split my time between pacing the halls and staring blankly at the waiting room door. We’d been informed that they were running a blood panel and I could see Clara soon. The minutes stretched interminably, each ticking past in a vacuum of emotion, as we waited for news that never seemed to come. Edward excused himself to take calls and handle the matters that I’d normally oversee. He ghosted to and from the waiting room without a word, and I was only barely aware of his presence.
When Dr. Sullivan finally reappeared, dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he smiled reassuringly. “Your wife is doing well. All of her vital signs are strong. We’d like your permission to run an ultrasound to check on the baby.”
“Of course,” I agreed, quickly adding, “on the condition that I can be present.”
He hesitated and a fresh surge of fear tightened my chest. “If that’s your wish, you certainly may be present. However, you need to prepare yourself. The baby’s heart rate is strong on our external monitors, but the baby’s situation is unstable.”
I nodded my understanding, even though the warning was a moot point. No amount of preparation could ready me in the event that something happened to either of them. But I owed it to her to be there, and more than that, I wanted to be there. Clara was the source of my strength. Now I needed to be strong for her.
Edward stood and clasped me in a tight hug as Dr. Sullivan waited for me by the door. No words passed between us, but when he pulled back our eyes met and he jerked his head tersely in a sign of silent solidarity. I didn’t ask him to come with; I needed to face this alone.
The hospital room was spacious, but the bulk of it was occupied by the bed and a number of machines quietly analyzing and recording Clara’s condition. It was eerily quiet, but the sight of her slammed into me with brute force. I’d braced myself before entering but I hadn’t truly been prepared for the sight of her, small and pale, surrounded by tubes and IVs. My stomach flipped as I drank in the sight of her, at once relieved to see the slight movement of her chest as she breathed and also horrified by how utterly still the rest of her body was. The left side of her face was swollen purple from the head trauma, providing a garish contrast to her waxen skin. Every impulse in my body compelled me to go to her, rip out the needles, and scoop her into my arms. I fought the urge to carry her away. This was what she needed, no matter how difficult it was to ignore my instinct.
Dr. Sullivan gestured to a chair next to the bed, and I walked to it slowly, taking my place at her side.
“Can I touch her?” I asked in a soft voice, unable to take my eyes off the woman I loved.
“Yes,” he assured me before turning his attention to the nurse as she wheeled in the ultrasound machine.
The others faded into the background as I laced my fingers through hers. Her hand was soft and fragile in mine. It was alarmingly cold, devoid of the comforting warmth that I usually
found in the simple gesture. A machine by her bed chirped frantically and my gaze flew to the doctor, who was studying her heart rate.
“That was…interesting.”
I swallowed hard, my mouth and throat dry, and waited for him to continue.
“Comatose patients sometimes show increased vitals in the presence of a loved one.” He smiled encouragingly. “I’d say she knows you’re here.”
I squeezed her hand, hoping for another sign but her pulse remained steady. It was selfish to hope that I could somehow draw her out of this, but it didn’t stop me from trying.
The doctor continued to speak, explaining what we would see and what he was doing with each step as he prepared for the test. A nurse squeezed in next to me, drawing back the bedclothes and rearranging Clara’s gown, but I didn’t budge.
My eyes stayed on her, watching for the flicker of her lashes, willing her lips to part.
Say something.
But there was no further sign that she felt me. I was adrift. Unmoored. I clung to her hand—the brittle thread that connected me to this world.
A hum filled the air followed by a gentle whooshing, but I didn’t turn away. I lifted her hand to my lips and pressed it there, desperate to fill the void that stretched between us.
“Alexander,” the doctor called my attention back to him, “there is someone I’d like you to meet.”
It took every ounce of determination I had to turn away from her, but when my eyes landed on the screen, the heavy weight on my heart suddenly lifted.
“She looks perfect,” Dr. Sullivan said, relief coloring his voice.
“She?”
“She,” he confirmed.
“You were wrong,” I said to Clara, my vision still locked on the tiny creature dancing on the ultrasound monitor.
She.
She.
She.
Warmth flooded through the emptiness I’d been carrying. It burst through my chest, coiling around my heart and anchoring me to this world—to my family. I’d found the meaning I’d searched for in a place I’d feared to tread. The darkness that had shadowed my life lifted and there was only her. And I finally knew, beyond a doubt that, of all the things I’d done wrong, of all the mistakes I had made, I must have done something right.