They bypassed the entrance, dashing on soft slippered feet through the gardens instead, passing orange trees and waking a group of cats that had been asleep on a bench.
Francis sent up a quick prayer to whoever was listening, please let Archie be all right.
Hasim led the way, cutting through a courtyard with geometric tiles and a cherry blossom tree, to an unassuming side entrance. They entered, both puffing slightly from the run, and walked at a brisk pace down a marbled hallway.
Not much decoration here, only the occasional potted plant by itself, and the smell of disinfectant, all signalled they were approaching the royal infirmary.
When they reached a closed door, Francis stopped Hasim from opening it.
“I can go in alone,” he said. “Thank you for showing me where it is.”
Hasim looked horrified at the suggestion. “No, I must come with you,” he insisted.
“It’s truly not necessary,” Francis tried, but this felt like a losing battle.
“I must,” Hasim repeated.
Francis drew in a breath and steeled himself. No time to waste.
“Then, Hasim,” he said, as evenly as he could muster, “I must tell you something first.” His voice wavered, and he swallowed before his confession.
“What?” Hasim asked, concern in his eyes.
“I…This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but we are pressedfor time so tell you I must,” Francis said. “I’mFrancis. My equerry and dear friend, Archie, was competing today in my stead.”
Hasim’s face was blank, and Francis wondered if he’d understood.
But there was no time.
“I’m Francis,” he repeated, and reached for the door handle. “May we talk later? I’m sorry, I must check on Archie.”
He entered the infirmary, emotions bubbling to the surface and threatening to boil over. When Francis spotted Archie in one of the beds, sitting upright among plump cushions, relief washed over him.
Maddie, Christian, Gustav, and a small group of medical staff were gathered around him.
“Archie! Thank heavens.” Francis strode over there, assessing the damage.
Archie appeared all right, and the only apparent injury was to Archie’s good eye; a young man wearing white robes was holding a cloth-wrapped ice pack to his face.
“Francis, old boy!” Archie responded. “Is that you? I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Francis, where have you been?” Maddie scolded. “We’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours! Christian and Gustav have been running all over the palace looking for you.”
“I wasn’t in the palace,” Francis replied, approaching the bed. “Archie are you all right?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Archie said blithely. “I’ve seen five doctors already, and two of them were women! Well, they sounded like women. I can’t see a thing at the moment.”
The young man, Francis assumed had to be a nurse, gently removed the ice pack from Archie’s face to reveal a swollen black eye.
Francis had seen Archie with worse in the past, but thatwas when he had a second working eye.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Blasted Montferrat, Wittensbach, and Pertengo tag teamed me between rounds of boxing,” Archie explained. “Should’ve seen that one coming. Don’t worry, though! I gave as good as I got.”
“I’d say more than that,” Christian said gravely.
Francis looked between his friends for answer. Maddie indicated with her eyes, and Francis realised there were more patients in the infirmary. He looked across to the other beds to see Montferrat with what appeared to be his leg in a splint, and Wittensbach with a broken armandjaw.
