Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I walked just as Lady Crane and I had practiced, toward where the queen and prince regent stood, before curtsying deeply to them both.
“You are my cousin’s fiancée?” the prince regent questioned.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“They say you were with him at that cursed moment.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And you have not returned to your family?”
I frowned at that. “He is my family, Your Highness.”
“Lady Hathor—”
“He would want her here, so she is here,” the queen stated matter-of-factly. No one else said another word.
I turned to the door, waiting, wanting to know if there had been any further news. But I was not sure whom or when to ask. Nor did I wish to push my luck and be forced to leave. So I stood there quietly for all of ten more minutes. Just as I was getting restless, the door opened, and out came a short man with a thin nose and white styled wig. He immediately stepped to the queen and shook his head.
“We stopped the bleeding and have done all we can for him, Your Majesty, but it is not likely he shall see the morning.”
I understood his words, but I did not really feel them. Like he was speaking of another person.
“This will not be good for us politically.” The prince regent sighed, then looked to his mother.
What did that mean?
Why were politics in this?
Why were people leaving the hall?
I did not understand any of them.
“Can he have visitors?” the queen asked the doctor.
“Yes, it might give him some comfort in these final moments.”
“Hathor, go to him,” the queen replied, turning to leave as well.
Why were they all leaving him? But again, I did not want to be excused from their home as well.
“This way, my lady,” the short man said, and I followed him. When I entered the room, the first thing I noticed was how many doctors were inside: seven, not including Sir Darrington, who stood off to the side for some reason that was not as important as Wilhelm. He was upon the bed, his skin so pale he already looked dead. He was shirtless, with a large bloody bandage around his waist, breathing so very slowly.
They all moved away, allowing me to move beside his bed. I sat down, staring at this…person, who looked like Wilhelm, but could not possibly be him. Wilhelm was full of energy and life. He was not sickly. Reaching up, I laid my hand on his forehead, and then took his hands into mine.
Leaning over, I kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear, “Just so you know, I abhor tragedy, and so forbid you to make my life one.” I bit back the tears trying to fall again. “You are not dying. Stop being silly. You’re not allowed to die. I will not allow you to die.”
Because if he died, I died, and I very much wanted to live.
26
Hathor
They were arguing.
Sir Darrington and one of the royal doctors.
I could not hear what the nature of their argument was, but it was stern, and the gestures toward Wilhelm clearly showed it was about him. Sir Darrington looked completely frustrated, while the other man looked annoyed.
“Are you sane? This is not some street dweller for your experiments. He is the prince of Malrovia, we cannot do something so—obscene!” the royal doctor snapped at him.
“Sir, at this point—”
“No. That is my final answer. Be grateful you are here at all. If not for your connection to the Lady Hathor and being first on the scene, I would have had you thrown out—”
“What is going on?” I asked now, right beside them both, though they did not immediately notice.
Startled, they both stared at me in silence. “Someone answer me: Why are you fighting at his bedside?”
“Forgive me, my lady, it is nothing,” the royal doctor said.
“It does not seem like nothing.” I looked to Sir Darrington. “What is going on?”
He made a face, his lips thin, but he still did not answer.
“Sir Darrington, I will not ask you again. Either you tell me, or I’ll have you both sent from the room.”
“I do believe there is some way to help him,” Sir Darrington finally said.
“No, what you believe is fantasy and magic, not science, not reason. Lady Hathor, please excuse this man, he is—”
“He is the husband of my dear friend, the brother-in-law of the Duke of Everely, and a man knighted by Her Majesty. I will not excuse him. What is it that you wish to do?”
“I believe he has lost a lot of blood and needs more.”
My eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“It is madness,” the royal doctor muttered. “Utter madness.”
“How do you plan to give him blood? From what?”
“Not what—whom. Is there any possible way you could get me an audience with the queen? I shall explain it all with her permission.”
“The queen will never allow such foolishness. You are wasting your time and disturbing the young lady. Excuse me, while I actually check on my patient,” the royal doctor replied, stepping around him and moving to Wilhelm’s bedside, where he checked his pulse. Truthfully, that was all I had seen him do so far. No one was doing anything but checking to see if he was dead yet.