Sprinting. Panting. Hoping.
Kaden kept pace beside me with his arms swinging at his sides. We veered right down a hallway, cutting close to the corner in a small effort to save time. Laundry maids flattened themselves against the wall as we breezed past. Under normal circumstances I would have stopped and apologized for the inconvenience, but under normal circumstances I wouldn't be running.
The swinging white infirmary doors loomed at the end of the hall. I flung myself through like a battering ram and was struck blinking at the endless white lines of beds. No matter how many times I was here—which were adding up to a disturbingly high number—the room's brightness always left me feeling temporarily blind. I adjusted quickly.
"Where are they? Where? Someone report!" I was blubbering at no one in particular, recovering from the whiplash brought by launching from sleep to sprint in five seconds flat. Come to think of it, I probably wasn't in the best state of mind to handle such pressing matters.
Kaden kept a steady hand on my elbow. His steps guided me through the immediate wing of medical cots and curtains into the next.
Oh. This place was swarming.
Lab coats and nurse uniforms bustled before me in frenzies. I saw the gleam of needles and the red flashes of blood and gauzy pale bandages.
It was awful. It was ugly. It was everything I had to live through nearly twenty years ago. Everything I'd hoped would never haunt me again.
I was thankful for Kaden's tight hold on my arm. I think I would have crashed to my knees without the reassuring press of his fingers.
"Dad." My eyes ripped away from the scene and met Kaden's, willing me to listen. "General Leger is over there," He pointed to the opposite end of the room, "speaking with Dr. Hendrix. He can probably give you the best update."
I nodded, to myself or to him I'm not sure, but it was still a response. His hand gave me a soft squeeze before releasing. I watched him fold his fingers together and turn, only to stand observantly against the wall behind us.
My wits were finally returning. "You don't need to stay here, Kaden. You shouldn't have to see all of this."
Kaden's eyes flickered over the beds carefully. "These are my people, too, Dad. I will not abandon them in times of crisis."
I wanted to hug him, kiss his hair, let me eyes well with proud tears—but there was a time and place for such things. It was not now.
I nodded, this time completely aware of the action and hoping Kaden could feel the pride emanating from every part of me. Then I marched over to hear a report about the hell that had descended upon us.
Sometimes I really hated how unperturbed Aspen remained under pressure. It irked me to no end. I felt like a snake was constricting around my chest and his voice didn't even lift an octave. It was also one of my most respected qualities of his. Funny how that works.
He saluted me as I neared. "Your Majesty, our men have returned."
"I can see that."
"All of the hostages have been recovered and are currently being treated for any wounds sustained. There do not appear to be any fatalities at this time."
This was surprisingly good news. Whenever I sent out troops, guilt throbbed just beneath my skin like a constant itch. Not all men come home. That was a basic fact of battle. And it killed me inside.
"No deaths? None?" I needed to clarify.
"None, Your Majesty."
Dr. Hendrix piped in for the first time. "And as of right now, we foresee considerable recovery for all wounds, if not complete healing."
He sounded oddly happy for such a terrible situation, but I guess this was good. As much as I hated to think the terrible thought, I hadn't been expecting a one hundred percent survival rate. In fact, up until ten minutes ago, I was convinced there was a zero percent survival rate.
The bitterness in my throat started to ebb away with the news.
There were still too many questions swirling in my head to be comfortable though.
"If our team and the Elite have safely returned, why are there so many bodies in these beds? And why the delay in our scheduled rescue plan? Why did none of the soldiers respond at the check points?"
Aspen heaved a sigh, the first indication that he was experiencing any stressful emotions. "Everyone has returned in one piece, but the mission did not go as planned. We are still trying to work out all the details. The mission commander is currently under anesthesia, in surgery to remove shrapnel embedded in his legs. When he is conscious and coherent, we will attempt to get more information from him. As of right now," Aspen's eyes wandered over the filled beds and mine followed. "I think our main priority should be the health of these young men."
I wanted answers, but by now, I was used to not getting what I wanted. "Agreed, Captain."
So we would play the waiting game. I was getting real sick and tired of waiting these days.
It hadn't struck me as odd that Kaden was wearing his full royal dress at three in the morning. My mind didn't have time to grasp the abnormality until it had adjusted to the situation at hand. But now, I was suspicious.
His eyes waved vigilantly over the room like the beacon of a lighthouse, and as I approached they turned towards me. Those eyes—a summery blue that reminded me of sky and water and screamed life . America's eyes.
"So, why were you the one sent to retrieve me? I would think they'd just dispatch a guard to deliver the message."
Kaden blinked. "I was available."
"In the middle of the night? Wearing polished dress shoes?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Yes."
I sighed, my hand naturally finding its way into my hair. I'm surprised I hadn't thinned it to a few straggling strands by now. "Kaden, I know we haven't talked like we should. I'm sorry. That's my fault, and I won't give you excuses, but you know I'm here when you need me."
He wouldn't look at me, finding much more interest in the tile pattern of the white flooring. I forced his chin up with a gentle finger and found those summery eyes again. "I'm always here."
We were quiet. The buzzing of small metal carts being pushed on wheels, orders delivered and received, the beeping and thrumming of machines—they combined to supply a steady background lull as I waited for Kaden to speak. He worked his jaw slowly. I watched the muscles pulse in his neck.
"I can't, Dad."
This surprised me. "Can't what?"
"I can't talk to you!" I couldn't handle his eyes anymore. So much like America's, and now they were desperately pleading with me. Begging. Imploring. There was a shining urgency that cut into my chest like a sharpened butcher's knife. "How can I talk to you when you're always with her? In that cursed room? With those all those awful tubes making her look more like a robot than my mother! It smells like death in there, like every trace of life has been bleached away." He looked up with a sudden breath, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. "How?" His head turned quickly to the side, a hand running over his eyes. They were glistening when he met my gaze again. "I can't go near her. I'm a coward. How am I supposed to talk about that?"
The last time I saw Kaden cry, he was nine years-old. He and Aspen had tried to climb one of the sprawling oaks in the garden, but Kaden had fallen when his fingers gripped moss instead of bark. It wasn't a bad fall, though America was nearly hysterical until Dr. Hendrix confirmed that the only damage would be a temporary bruise on his back.
Now I looked at the tears walled up in his eyes and my heart squeezed uncomfortably, tightening my chest like a shrinking cage. I didn't want this. Any of it.
"Not a coward." I whispered, my hands finding his shoulders. I wanted to press him to my chest, arms wrapped around him, and never let go. But Kaden was a young man now, not the little boy who'd fallen from the tree. He needed comfort, but not coddling. "You're scared. I'm scared, too. It's okay."
He shook his head. "But I can't even-"
"Maybe we all try to cope in different ways." I cleared my throat. It felt like all my words were sticking to my esophagus. "I spend all the time I can with Mom, because it almost feels like she's still there. By not being around her, you can pretend she never had the heart attack at all. Like she's just reading in another room or sitting in a meeting. I get it, Kaden. We are all afraid, but we can be scared together."
I don't know if he was fully convinced, but he held my stare. At least my words were being heard. At least he knew he wasn't alone.
"I talk to her," I whisper because it feels like a secret. I suppose it was until now. "It helps. She's still your mother. Who she is hasn't changed at all. You should try it. Maybe it will help."
Kaden nods. He's retreated back into his own thoughts. I can tell by the way his lighthouse beacon gaze wanders away from me, back over the scurrying staff and the soldier-laden beds. I grip his shoulders a bit tighter and he looks up. His voice stays quiet. "Thanks Dad. I'll give—"
"KILE!" Our moment is broken by the shrieking of a delirious girl throwing herself through the swinging doors. Her silk dress is in limp shreds that hang loosely around her legs as if she's ripped the fabric herself. Her eyes are wild and large, searching.
Those eyes. Heavens above, it's Eadlyn. It's Eadlyn tripping madly past the nurses. Eadlyn with her hair, always pinned perfectly so, hanging wet like curling vines with fresh dew still dripping. Eadlyn yelling one name over the infirmary's bustle. Her voice mutes all else. It pierces the room, workers turning to stare with shock at their prim and proper princess reduced to a tattered gown and mad screams.
She flies past every bed, and when she doesn't see what she wants, she repeats the search until strong hands grip her shoulders. Eadlyn's nails rip viciously at the man.
"Where is he? Where?" I've never seen her like this, never even imagined the girl before me could be the same one who sits stoically at budget meetings, sips tea with the royals of Italy, or walks with the grace of a gliding swan. "I know he's here. He has to be. Release me or I—"
"Eady."
It's my voice, though I don't remember speaking. Her eyes fly to mine. Aspen was the one holding her in place. He'd been repeating her name, over and over, but somehow she only looks to me.
"Daddy, help." Her arms reach out, despite Aspen's still solid grip to keep her from rampaging again. "Please, Daddy. Please. I need to go. I need to find him." Her head whips back and forth like she's telling me 'no'.
No, don't let them stop me. No, don't let him die. No, no, no.
"Aspen?" I ask.
Eadlyn finally registers him. Her arms go limp to her sides, as if she's relented, and he slowly yields his hold. His eyes flicker to mine briefly and I catch the nervous look with a shot to my gut.
What happened to Kile?
"Yes, my Princess." Aspen offers her his arm. "I will escort you to see Sir Woodwork."
Eadlyn latches to his arm for dear life, muttering thank you's under her breath as a mantra.
Aspen looks over his shoulder as they pass me. "Perhaps His Majesty would accompany us?"
It's not a question, it's a hint.
"Of course." I fall in step beside them, casting my eyes back to see Kaden still holding vigil against the wall.
I offer him a nod and a small smile, hoping he'll carry some of the words we've shared out of the room. To my surprise, he mirrors my smile.
I want to savor the victory, but I follow my feet leading deeper into the infirmary. We pass the birthing suites that America used to bring our four children into the world, pass the high-tech operation rooms reserved for surgery, pass the emergency quarantine rooms marked with hazard signs. Now I'm getting worried. What else is there?
Eadlyn is like a small child, bumbling along beside Aspen with her small hands wound tight to his forearm. Her feet slide and falter as if she's learning to walk for the first time.
Finally we stop at a door, white like all the others. There is no window, and I'm hit by a sudden fear of what lies beyond.
"Please, be gentle," Aspen speaks to Eadlyn in a soft voice.
Gentle?
"The doctors aren't exactly sure how he will react."
The words swirl in my head unconnected. React to what? Again, Apsen shoots me a meaningful look, but what it means I don't know.
His fingers grip the doorknob and he pushes it open carefully. Everything feels fragile.
Eadlyn slips through in a scurry.
"Kile." It's so faint, completely contradicting her maddened shrieks only moments before. I haven't entered yet. All I hear is her wispy voice.
And then he screams.
You guys, I am sorry. So sorry. Like, gargantuanly sorry! I really never intended to take so long writing this chapter, but then I realized how much more I wanted to plan before I published this, and it took some thinking. ANYWAY, there you have it. There is so much more to come, so bear with me! Thanks a million for reading and sticking with me! More updates soon! Who was your favorite character in this chapter? Personally I enjoyed Eadlyn, because it was interesting to write her acting so out of the norm. Let me know your opinion! God bless.
~SpaceNut