“Has she been complaining of any physical symptoms lately? Cramping, nausea, feeling warm?”
“No.” Adelaide had been, per usual, unflappable. “She didn’t eat much breakfast this morning, but she said it was just nerves.”
Knox approached, squatting down to meet my eyes. “Hey, Ollie. We need to lay her down so the doctor can look at her. Can I help you do that?”
I nodded once more, even though every instinct in my body said to keep her in my arms. If I was holding her, surely I’d be able to keep her safe.
Once Adelaide was on the floor, the doctor went to work. Within moments, Birdie’s voice cut through the fog. “The ambulance is outside. They’re bringing a stretcher in now.”
Minutes or maybe hours later, the paramedics had lifted Adelaide onto the stretcher, and I was vaguely aware of Knox gripping my arms to hold me back.
“I’m not leaving her!”
“No one is asking you to, brother,” he soothed. “They just need some space to get her safe and ready to go. They’re about done and then we’ll follow them in the car.”
One of the medics straightened and announced to her colleagues, “Okay, she’s secure. Let’s move.”
“I’m coming with you,” I said as I grabbed Adelaide’s hand.
“You’re going to need to walk fast and, respectfully, Your Majesty, stay out of our way while we work in the ambulance.”
I jerked my head in agreement.
Camera flashes popped as we left the building and I knew we would have a time with the headlines later, but at that moment I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting my fiancée to the hospital and figuring out what was wrong.
I climbed into the back of the ambulance, realizing that the medic crew was making adjustments to make room for Faxon as well. I tried to feel bad for the imposition but didn’t have room for any emotion other than the fear clawing at my chest.
As we sped through the streets of Altborn, all I could think was that I had just gotten Adelaide back into my life and I hadn’t had enough time with her. I couldn’t let anything take her from me now, not when we were so close to our happily ever after.
The faint smell of rubbing alcohol brought me to consciousness. With my eyes still closed, I scanned my body, trying to piece together where I was.
I was laying in a bed, though it wasn’t my bed at the palace, that much was certain. I could feel a slight pull at the skin of the inner elbow on my left arm, and it felt as though something was wrapped around the index finger of my right hand. My whole body ached.
I slowly opened my eyes, blinking at the fluorescent lights of a hospital room. Raising my head slightly, I spotted an IV in my left arm and a pulse oximeter on my right hand.
“Adelaide?”
I turned to find my mother seated in the armchair next to the bed. I tried to sit up—a task easier said than done, considering it felt like I’d been hit with a freight train.
“Here, lay back down, we’ll raise the bed up,” Mum said, springing from her seat to help me.
I did as she said, watching as she tucked the blanketsback around me and used the bed’s remote to raise it to an incline.
“Where am I?” I finally asked. My throat felt—and sounded—like I had swallowed gravel. I tried to clear it, but that just made the burning sensation worse.
The last thing I remembered was speaking to the Council. How the hell had I ended up in a hospital bed?
“You’re at St. Mary’s Hospital. You collapsed during the Council meeting this morning and they brought you here by ambulance. You’ve been out all afternoon.” As she spoke, she helped me drink from a cup of water from the bedside table. The ice-cold water was a balm to my throat.
My mind tried to piece things together. I recalled not feeling well this morning; my lower body had ached, and I’d been fighting off hot flashes and nausea to no end. But I had chalked it all up to nerves at the time.
“Do they know what happened? Why I passed out?”
“You had an ovarian cyst rupture. It was infected, so they are working to keep that infection from spreading. They have you on IV antibiotics and are monitoring you to make sure you won’t need surgery as well.” Mum paused, taking my hand. “Honey, I had no idea you had any issues with your ovaries. I respect your choice not to tell me, but I want you to take care of yourself and listen to your body. It could have been much worse if they hadn’t gotten you to the hospital quickly.”
My stomach twisted. It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted to confide in my parents when I was first diagnosed, but so much had happened in such a short period of time that the conversation kept getting pushed off.
“I’m sorry, Mum. With so much going on, I thought I was just feeling under the weather from stress. I hadn’t considered that it could be anything else. I had a cyst burst oncebefore, but it didn’t feel at all like this. I didn’t even know a cyst could get infected.”
