The main hall was dripping with red. Red roses, red tablecloths and red ribbons. And whatever wasn't red was white. It was being decorated for the arrival of the prince and princess of the 2nd kingdom and their daughter the duchess. Wendell was a little disturbed by the color scheme.
"Samuel!" he called. The head decorator raised his head from the flowers and scurried over to the king.
"Yes Majesty?" he asked a little nervously. He often got a little temperamental when working and he definitely did not want to yell at the king. That would not be good for his career.
"Why don't you add more color to this hall. Something besides red and white?" Wendell suggested.
The decorator looked confused.
"Sire, the Council specifically told me to use these colors. I originally wanted to go with more jewel tones, but…"
Wendell didn't hear the rest. The Council. He should have known. Well then the symbolism wasn't him being paranoid. The Council was doing everything it possibly could to push this union on him. He wondered what his guests would think. He didn't even know if they were thinking in the same vein as the Council.
Wendell didn't get mad. He simply sighed. Although he was disgusted by the thought, it was a common practice among nobles to become betrothed to a person much younger. He could see the council's point. Again a sigh.
On his way to the Council Room, he was met by a Council Member. It was Owen. He looked like he was about to die. His skin was a pale green color, his eyes were blurry and his hair was a mess (all very unlike the always groomed Owen).
"Oh Your Grace! Terrible news!" he wailed. His entire appearance suggested that this was not a shortage of red roses.
"Calm down Owen. What news is so dire?" Wendell asked, trying to be comforting.
"It's the Duchess. She's taken a fall and is gravely injured. They can not wake her!" he explained.
"This is terrible news indeed," Wendell whispered. He was in shock. Never mind that a child being injured is tragic but this could be politically disastrous. Though Wendell felt guilty for thinking this, it was the truth. If the child died in his kingdom… well best to say that relations with the 2nd Kingdom would not get better.
"Where was she injured?" he asked.
"Just before the border. They were stopped for lunch and it seems the child got away from her nurse. It took them an hour to find her, and that was only when she fell out of one of the big oaks. They are on their way here now. When last I heard they were half an hour away," Owen answered. He said it all in almost one breath. He was panting as he finished.
"Well," Wendell thought, "at least she got hurt on her own land,". Again a harsh thought. Apparently being king was making him more practical than kind.
"Right," he said rubbing his hands together, "You," he said pointing to the nearest footman, "Make sure the Duchess' rooms are prepared. She needs to be as comfortable as possible. Also summon Dr. Whitman. I want him here immediately,".
The footman bowed and then ran off to do as he was told.
"Thomas," Wendell yelled. As always the servant was near.
"Your Grace?" his stoic voice asked.
"Tell the staff that I want them on their best behavior. I don't want to see one mistake. The Duchess and her family should be the most comfortable people in this palace. I want their comfort to come first, before mine even," he said. This was unnecessary. No matter what the situation, his staff was always the best. He was just nervous. Thomas bowed and silently walked away. Now all Wendell could do was pace in his study.
Finally the Duchess arrived. By that time the doctor had been at the palace for about twenty minutes. The little Duchess was taken immediately to her rooms. She did look awful. Her petit heart shaped face was so pale that she was almost translucent. Save for the blood coming from her numerous cuts, she was white. Her bouncy chestnut ringlets were striking against her face. She looked like a porcelain doll, a beat up, ghostly doll.
Wendell stayed out of the sickroom. After entirely too long, Dr. Whitman emerged. His hair was sticking up. Wendell knew this was because he had been running his hand through it. It was a nervous habit. Wendell saw it many times as a child, first when he broke his arm, then when he had chickenpox, and every sickness since then. He went immediately to Wendell.
"Majesty I'm afraid I've done all I can. Her body was hurt. Her arm was broken, along with a sprained ankle. As you saw there were also many cuts to tend to. Luckily I don't think they will become infected. But I don't know why the child will not wake up," he said in an exasperated and confused tone.
"There were no head injuries?" Wendell asked. He knew that the doctor would have noticed any, but he may as well ask.
"No My Lord," Dr. Whitman replied in a slightly affronted tone, "despite the numerous cuts on her face, there are absolutely no bumps or indentations on her head. There is nothing that should induce her reaction,".
"I know this is strange of a doctor to say, but I think we need a second opinion," Dr. Whitman sighed, "He may find something that I missed,".
"Yes you're right," Wendell said, "we will just have to find the best doctors in the kingdom. But it will take time to get them here,".
Suddenly there was a quiet cough. Then Thomas stepped forward.
"Majesty if I may suggest something?" he asked.
Wendell and Dr. Whitman both had their eyebrows raised almost to their hair. This forward behavior was most unlike Thomas.
"Yes, what is it you have to suggest?" Wendell asked.
"Majesty, how much do you know about empath healing?" the dignified servant asked.