Royals Saga 3 Crown Me (23 page)

“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.”

“Y
our 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 analysing 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.

Dr. Sullivan hit a button and the screen went blank. I blinked, immediately missing our child. He reached down and drew a sheet from the attached printer and handed it to me. I held the picture of my daughter in one hand and my wife’s hand in the other. How was it possible in the face of such traumatic circumstances to feel joy?

“Can I stay with them?” I asked as the nurse wiped the remnants of ultrasound jelly from her and readjusted the sheets.

The doctor thought for a moment before agreeing. “I’ll have the nurse bring in another cot.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I told him. The chance that I would let go of her hand was minuscule—that I would take my eyes off of her: impossible.

“Eventually, you’ll have to sleep. They’re going to need you to take care of them.” But he didn’t fight me on it further.

“Doctor?” I stopped him before he could exit the room. “You said she can hear me, but can she understand what I’m saying?”

“Accounts vary from survivors. Some can recall everything from their time in the coma with vivid detail. That seems to be rare though. It’s typically almost as though the body redirects normal function to healing. Many describe it as dream-like. They recall voices and light but they can’t remember more than you or I might upon waking from a dream. But research, and my own experience, has shown that patients’ vitals change in the presence of loved ones, like we saw earlier.” His hand gripped the handle of the door. “There’s only one thing that every patient I’ve had come out of a coma state has shared. They all felt trapped—lost, if you will—until something called them back. If Clara is caught in darkness, she needs you to lead her to the light.”

He left me alone, but I no longer felt the crippling isolation that had consumed me in the waiting room. They were with me. I knew that.

“Clara.” Her name fell from my lips—an intonement rather than a command. “I wish I could demand you’d wake up, but we both know you can be stubborn.”

I paused, drawing a breath for strength. “I love that about you, poppet. It drives me wild when you challenge me. Maybe that’s why I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

“I hope she’s like you,” I continued. “Headstrong and brave. I know she will be, because she already takes after you. I didn’t believe I could want anyone—need anyone—until you told me off that day for smoking at the Oxford and Cambridge Club. I couldn’t even tell you that I didn’t actually smoke, because I enjoyed how sexy you were when you were irritated. Before you, I never understood want. And I never could have believed I’d want to bring a child into this world.”

“The doctor told me to lead you out of the darkness, but how am I supposed to do that? You are my soul, Clara. You healed me, and I shut you out to punish myself, to seek retribution. I am darkness. How can I be your light?”

Leaning forward, I covered the soft swell of her belly with my other hand. “I want this life. I choose this life. I want you. I want
her
.”

“I don’t know if I can bring you home. But I’m not leaving you—
either of you
. I’m never letting go again,” I vowed.

I lowered my head to our clasped hands and repeated my promises until my mouth was too dry to speak—until my quiet words became silent prayers.