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 now knew, with the greatest certainty, that I disliked this very much, and I did not want to be a princess any longer.
However…stepping inside Wilhelm’s room and seeing his face, my heart twisted.
I did not want to be a princess—I just wanted to take the prince away from here. Hide him in my castle—well, it was my father’s castle, but the sentiment was nevertheless the same.
“How is he?” I asked Sir Darrington, who sat in the corner. He had returned, as promised, though I knew the royal doctors were not pleased with it. But they were not in the room.
“He is well. See for yourself,” Sir Darrington answered.
Walking over, I sat by his bedside. His complexion looked much better. Smiling, I reached up and touched his face.
“I told you all he’d get better.” I smirked, brushing his hair gently. “He’s too stubborn to die.”
“You’re more stubborn.”
I jumped away, eyes wide, and pulled my hands back. I froze, not sure if my mind was playing tricks on me. But sure enough, his eyelids fluttered open, and his blue eyes stared back at me. He smiled, and I turned quickly to Sir Darrington, to make sure he was seeing this, too.
“He awoke while you were with the queen. She’s being informed now,” Sir Darrington said to me. My head whipped back to Wilhelm; he was still staring at me. I did not know what to say, but my eyes began to water, and my lips quivered.
“Sir Darrington…would you give us a moment, please?” His voice was so hoarse, and so incredibly good to hear. I waited until I heard the door close before letting out a sob, resting my forehead against his. “You are beautiful, even when you cry.”
“I know. That is why I reserve my tears for the worthiest of moments.” I sniffled, squeezing his hands. He squeezed back. “Let us make this sight a very rare one, please.”
“I shall do my best, my love.” He lifted my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss as he lay back on the bed, closing his eyes.
“Thank you for living.”
“Thank you for making living worth it.”
Wilhelm
“Thankfully, God had the sense to keep you alive and take your father instead” was the first thing my aunt said to me as I lay weak upon the bed.
I lay there in shock, not understanding. “What? My father is dead?”
Before she could answer, Hathor stepped closer to her. “Your Majesty, please, let him recover—”
“If a bullet did not kill him, my words shall not either,” she said to her, and looked back to me. “Your father is dead, your brother is king, and your mother is on her way here. Isn’t it all so splendid?”
“What? My mother?” I tried to sit up, but the pain that sprang up in me made me groan.
“Stop moving!” Hathor rushed to my side to hold me down. “You are going to reopen your wounds!”
I ignored her, and the pain, to focus on the immediate danger before me. “Why is my mother coming here?”
“Your father is dead, August.”
“Yes, Aunt, so you have said—three times now. That still does not explain why my mother is coming here. She hates England, remember?”
“No, she hates me,” she said with a smirk. “So clearly, the only reason she is coming is for you. I suggest you prepare yourself for that, and all that it means, by hastily recovering your strength. You look horrid, and I shall not be accused of providing poor care.” She looked to the doctors to the left of the bed. “Fix him quickly.”
Just as quickly as she entered, she turned and left the room, everyone bowing to her as she went.
“I am glad you are all right. Get well quickly. You doctors, please take care of him,” Hathor said with a small smile on her lips as she took my hand again. “That is what she means, of course, but she cannot say it so simply.”
“You can interpret the queen’s speech now?” I asked her.
“Yes, a strange talent that I have developed recently,” she replied, sitting back down beside me. “Lady Crane has been a most excellent teacher.”
“Your Highness,” the short doctor with the very white wig called out to me. “Can you tell me about any pains or symptoms you’re having?”
“The only symptom is aching, sir.”
“Where? Is your arm all right?”
I looked to him, my brow furrowed in confusion. “My arm? Why would my arm ache? I was not wounded there.”
He looked to Hathor and not me. She spoke up to dismiss them. “Gentlemen, will you leave us once more?”
The doctors nodded before walking out of the room. I glanced back at her. “What is the matter? Was my arm injured?”
I lifted both of them just fine. It was the rest of my body I was concerned about. She let out a breath before telling me the truth. Never had I heard of such a thing: sharing of blood. She tried to explain it, but she looked just as confused as I.