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Bridget
Rhysand I didn’t talk again on the plane, but he’d taken my mind off my grandfather’s situation enough I crashed after he left. I hadn’t slept a wink the night before, and I was out like a light for most of the flight.
When we landed, though, all my nerves came rushing back, and it was all I could do not to snap at the driver to go faster as we sped through downtown toward the hospital. Every second we spent at a red light felt like a second I was losing with my grandfather.
What if I missed seeing him alive by a minute, or two, or three?
A wave of lightheadedness hit me, and I had to close my eyes and force myself to take deep breaths so I didn’t drown beneath my anxiety.
When we finally arrived at the hospital, we found Markus, my grandfather’s Private Secretary and right-hand man, waiting for us by the secret entrance they used for high-profile patients. I’d spotted the crush of reporters outside the main entrance from the car, and the sight made my anxiety triple.
“His Majesty is fine,” Markus said when he saw me. He looked more disheveled than usual, which in Markus’s world meant one of his hairs was out of place and there was a small, barely noticeable crease in his shirt. “He woke up just before I came down.”
“Oh, thank God.” I breathed a sigh of relief. If my grandfather was awake, things couldn’t be too bad. Right?
We took the elevator to my grandfather’s private suite, where I found Nikolai pacing the hall outside with a frown.
“He kicked me out,” he said by way of explanation. “He said I was hovering too much.”
I cracked a smile. “Typical.”If there was one thing Edvard von Ascheberg III hated, it was being fussed over.
“Yeah.” Nikolai let out a half-resigned, half-relieved laugh before he swept me into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Bridge.”
We didn’t see or talk to each other often. We lived different lives—Nikolai as crown prince in Eldorra, me as a princess trying her best to pretend she wasn’t one in the U.S.—but nothing bonded two people like a shared tragedy.
Then again, if that were true, we should be thick as thieves since our parents’ deaths. But things hadn’t quite worked out that way.
“It’s good to see you too.” I squeezed him tight before greeting his girlfriend. “Hi, Sabrina.”
“Hi.” She gave me a quick hug, her face warm with sympathy.
Sabrina was an American flight attendant Nikolai met during a flight to the U.S. They’d been dating for two years, and their relationship had generated a media firestorm when it first came to light. A prince dating a commoner? Tabloid heaven. Coverage had died down since then, partly because Nikolai and Sabrina kept their relationship under such tight wraps, but their pairing was still very much gossiped about in Athenberg society.
Perhaps that was why I felt such pressure to date someone “appropriate.” I didn’t want to disappoint my grandfather, too. He’d warmed up to Sabrina, but he’d had a conniption when he first found out about her.
“He’s waiting for you inside.” Nikolai flashed a lopsided grin. “Just don’t hover or he’ll kick you out too.”
I managed a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll wait here,” Rhys said. He usually insisted on following me everywhere, but he seemed to know I needed alone time with my grandfather.
I gave him a grateful smile before I stepped into the hospital room.
Edvard was, as promised, awake and sitting up in bed, but the sight of him in a hospital gown and hooked up to machines brought back an onslaught of memories.
“Daddy, wake up! Please wake up!” I sobbed, trying to break out of Elin’s grasp and run to his aside.“Daddy!”
But no matter how loud I screamed or how hard I cried, he remained pale and unmoving. The machine next to his bed let out a flat, steady whine, and everyone in the room was yelling and running around except for my grandfather, who sat with his head lowered and shoulders shaking. They’d forced Nikolai to leave the room earlier, and now they were trying to get me to leave too, but I wouldn’t.
Not until Daddy woke up.
“Daddy, please.” I’d screamed myself hoarse, and my last plea came out as a whisper.
I didn’t understand. He’d been okay a few hours ago. He went out to buy popcorn and candy because the palace kitchen ran out and he said it was silly to ask someone to fetch something he could easily get himself. He said when he got back, we would eat the popcorn and watch Frozen together.
But he never came back.
I overheard the doctors and nurses talking earlier. Something about his car and sudden impact. I didn’t know what it all meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.
And I knew Daddy was never, ever coming back.
I felt the burn of tears behind my eyes and a familiar tightening in my chest, but I pasted on a smile and tried not to let my worry show.
“Grandpa.” I rushed to Edvard’s side. I’d called him Grandpa when I was a kid and never grew out of it, but now, I could only say it when we were alone because the address was too “informal” for a king.
“Bridget.” He looked pale and tired, but he mustered a weak smile. “You didn’t have to fly all the way back here. I’m fine.”
“I’ll believe it when the doctor tells me so.” I squeezed his hand, the gesture as much reassurance for myself as it was for him.
“I’m the king,” he harrumphed. “What I say, goes.”
“Not for medical matters.”
Edvard sighed and grumbled, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he asked about New York, and I caught him up on everything I’d been doing since I saw him last Christmas until he got tired and dozed off in the middle of my story about Louis’s unfortunate wine spill.
He’d refused to tell me how he ended up in the hospital, but Nikolai and the doctors filled me in. Apparently, my grandfather had a rare, previously undiagnosed heart condition that was usually latent in patients until extreme stress or anxiety triggered it. In such cases, the condition could lead to sudden cardiac arrest and death.
I nearly had cardiac arrest myself when I heard that, but the doctors assured me my grandfather’s case had been mild. He’d fainted and had been unconscious for a while, but he didn’t need surgery, which was a good thing. However, the condition didn’t have a cure and he would need to make major lifestyle changes to reduce his stress levels if he didn’t want a more serious incident in the future.
I could only imagine Edvard’s response to that. He was a workaholic if there ever was one.
The doctors kept him in the hospital another three days for monitoring. They’d wanted to keep him a week, but he refused. He said it would be bad for public morale, and he needed to get back to work. And when the king wanted something, no one refused him.