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He was right to be. As much as I wanted to tell myself it was nothing, the longer I sat there, the more I could feel it. There was an infection crawling through my body. I couldn’t ignorethe signs any longer. All I could do was take a minute to see Aleric’s face, and then I could handle it.
This happened more than I cared for, but it had been a little while since I’d dealt with one, and I was suddenly furious and angry that it had to be now.
But I knew my body. I needed to act. I couldn’t let this sit, or I would pay for it later.
“Give me twenty minutes. Just twenty,” I begged when he gave me an angry look. “I’m not going to collapse. I promise. If it’s an infection, it’s early.”
“Fine. Go.”
He gave me a hand into the chair, which was the moment I knew for sure something was wrong. I was still strong enough to wheel myself through the doors and down the long corridor that led to the main set. I could hear voices—the director calling out instructions, the silence that came after, then the low rumble I recognized as Aleric.
My heart sped up, but I didn’t know if it was from him this time or the infection. All the same, I rolled through the side door that was propped open and came to a stop near a tall stack of boxes that I used to hide myself whenever I wanted to watch him.
My eyes were burning a little—likely from the growing fever—but I could see Aleric clearly. It was a scene with his parents. They were nothing like my own. The queen was too calm, too kind, and the king’s dialogue was too focused on how worried he was for his son and not enough about the fucking optics.
But I recognized this scene. I’d written it almost word for word in my book, and they’d adapted it well.
“We’re doing this for your own good, Camillo. There’s nothing shameful about an arranged marriage.”
“Except that you’re not giving me the chance to find someone on my own because you don’t think I can!” I mouthedalong, but Aleric’s delivery was so close to the way I had spoken to my father that my heart ached.
“This will allow someone to have the chance to grow to love you. To grow to understand?—”
“What? That I’m not like everyone else? That I never will be? That I’m some shameful family burden all because some asshole who wanted to get a photo of me kissing a boy was more important than the rest of my life!”
Fuck, Aleric was good. He was too good, and it was too hard to watch what was coming next. I turned just as I heard the thud. That’s when Aleric’s body hit the floor because that was the first time I’d fallen out of my chair in front of my parents.
Though I hadn’t fallen. At least, not by accident. I’d wanted them to see me lying there. I wanted them to see me as I was.
“Cut!”
I spun back around as Aleric hopped to his feet. He tried for a smile at the man who was playing my father—Bernard or Benson or something. I never bothered to learn his name. He didn’t smile back. Aleric opened his mouth to say something, but he turned and walked off, pretending Aleric wasn’t there.
I felt a surge of rage. I’d seen it happen before. I’d seen the way the rest of the cast dismissed him like he was unworthy, and I wanted to tell them they were all half the actors he was. It was resentment and jealousy because he’d been through the worst and had come back better.
Instead, I ignored a rush of chill up the back of my neck and rolled forward. “Hello.”
Aleric spun, and his face broke out into a huge smile. It hadn’t been him. Christ, I felt sick with relief. And sick for a whole different reason. The room immediately began to spin, and I felt myself slump sideways, my gullet rising into my throat.
I rarely vomited. My abdominal muscles made it excessively difficult to do that, but I could tell I was close. Aleric was calling my name, but his voice sounded like it was being spoken through tin, and I couldn’t seem to focus my vision.
Warm hands touched my face, strong arms cradling me against the back of my chair to keep me upright. “What’s happening? Baby, hey?”
Baby? I tried for a smile. That was new, and God, I liked it.
“Camillo. Talk to me. What’s going on. Fuck, where’s your guard?”
“Here!” Ah, hell. Cillian was coming, and he did not sound happy. “I’ve called for private transport. He’s ill.”
My eyes began to focus a little better. Cillian was on his knee beside me, and Aleric was still holding me. “I need the hospital,” I rasped. It was coming on too quickly to be a simple infection. I was in trouble.
“I know.” Cillian would rip me a new asshole later. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I am going to carry you now.”
“No.”
“Let him,” Aleric said. “You can’t even hold your head up, and your heart is racing.”
“No, it’s not—” Oh. It was. Now that he mentioned it, I could feel it hammering against the inside of my ribs.