Page 17

AMELIA

Monday morning arrives with a vengeance. My alarm blares at five thirty a.m., and I silence it before it can wake Tristan. He came to bed late after a call with the ambassador from neighboring Bellovia. I slip out from under the covers, careful not to disturb him, and make my way to the bathroom.

The mirror reflects a paler version of myself than I’m comfortable with. I splash cold water on my face, willing the color to return to my cheeks. “This pregnancy glow they talk about is a myth,” I whisper to my reflection, placing my hand on my round stomach.

By seven, I’m dressed and reviewing my schedule with Shannon in my office.

“The children from St. Mary’s Academy will be arriving at nine for the library dedication,” she says, sliding a folder across my desk. “Your speech is inside, along with background on the school. The press will be there.”

I nod, skimming the speech. “Have we confirmed the hospital visit for Wednesday?”

“Yes, though the Minister of Health suggested postponing until after flu season. He’s concerned about exposure in your condition.”

“I won’t postpone. Those children have been waiting for this visit.” I push the folder back toward her, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness wash over me.

Shannon notices immediately. “Amelia? Are you all right?”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Fine. Just the usual pregnancy stuff.” I place a hand protectively over my abdomen. “Let’s go over the rest of the week.”

The morning proceeds as planned. The library dedication goes smoothly, though the flash of cameras and the scent of fresh paint make my stomach churn. I manage to make it through my speech, focusing on the excited faces of the children rather than the growing discomfort in my abdomen.

By noon, I’m back in my office, attempting to focus on correspondence when the nausea hits with unexpected force.

I barely make it to the private bathroom, emptying what little breakfast I managed to eat into the toilet.

Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead as I grip the porcelain, willing my stomach to settle.

A gentle knock sounds at the door. “Amelia?” Shannon’s voice is tinged with concern.

“Just a minute,” I call back, my voice weaker than I intended. I rinse my mouth and check my appearance in the mirror. The woman staring back looks ghostly.

When I emerge, Shannon’s eyes widen. “That’s it. I’m calling Dr. Bennett.”

“No,” I protest, but the room tilts suddenly, and I grasp the doorframe to keep from falling. “It’s just morning sickness. It’ll pass.”

Shannon guides me to the sofa. “Morning sickness doesn’t usually include that shade of green. Not to mention you haven’t had a ton of it the entire time you’ve been pregnant. Please, let me call him.”

Before I can argue further, another wave of nausea sends me rushing back to the bathroom. This time, there’s nothing left to bring up, but my body doesn’t seem to care. I retch painfully as Shannon holds my hair back.

“This isn’t normal,” she says firmly. “Even for pregnancy.”

I slump against the wall, too exhausted to argue.

“The entire kingdom is invested in this baby, Amelia. We can’t take chances.” She dampens a cloth and presses it to my forehead. “The king asked me to keep an eye on you while you were working. He’s worried.”

Another wave of nausea crashes over me, and this time, when it passes, I nod weakly. “Call Dr. Bennett.”

Shannon doesn’t waste time. Within twenty minutes, the royal physician is in my office, his face grave as he examines me.

“Your Majesty, how long have you been feeling like this?” he asks, taking my blood pressure.

“The nausea started with my pregnancy, but it was mild. Today it’s…different.” I close my eyes against the light that suddenly seems too harsh.

“Any other symptoms? Fever? Headache?”

I nod slightly. “Both. Since this morning.”

Dr. Bennett exchanges a look with Shannon. “I’d like to run some tests. This doesn’t appear to be typical morning sickness.”

Fear grips me—fear for the tiny life growing inside me. “The baby?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he says gently. “But I would feel more comfortable if you came to the hospital where we have better facilities.”

I want to protest, to insist that I just need rest, but the room won’t stop spinning. “Call Tristan,” I whisper to Shannon.

The next few hours blur together. I’m vaguely aware of being helped into a car, of Shannon making quiet phone calls, of the hospital’s sterile hallways. Blood is drawn, monitors attached, questions asked that I struggle to answer through the fog in my mind.

“Virus,” I hear Dr. Bennett say at some point. “Not uncommon but concerning given her condition.”

“And the baby?” Tristan’s voice cuts through my haze. When did he arrive?

“Stable for now, but we need to get Her Majesty’s fever down and keep her hydrated.”

I force my eyes open to find Tristan sitting beside my bed, his face etched with worry. He looks disheveled, his tie loosened and hair mussed, as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly.

“Hey,” I manage, reaching for his hand.

Relief washes over his features. “You scared the hell out of me, Lia.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur.

“Don’t apologize.” He brings my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “Dr. Bennett says you have some kind of virus. They want to keep you overnight for observation.”

Panic flutters in my chest. “But the meeting with the education board is tomorrow?—”

“Canceled,” he says firmly. “Everything’s canceled. You and our heir are the only things that matter right now.”

A nurse enters, hanging a new IV bag. “This should help with the dehydration, Your Majesty. The doctor has ordered something for the nausea as well.”

I nod gratefully, already feeling the cool rush of fluids entering my system. When she leaves, Tristan moves from the chair to sit carefully on the edge of my bed.

“Parker had to physically restrain me from leaving the summit when Shannon called,” he admits, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “I’ve never left a meeting that fast in my life.”

Despite everything, I smile. “What will the ambassadors think?”

“I don’t give a damn what they think.” His voice is low, intense. “When I heard you were in the hospital…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I squeeze his hand. “I’m going to be fine. We both are.”

Tristan’s eyes drop to my stomach, and he places his palm gently over it. “You’re sure?”

“Dr. Bennett seems confident. It’s just a virus. Bad timing, but nothing that won’t pass.”

He exhales shakily. “I should have been there. I knew you weren’t feeling well when we left the beach house.”

“Stop,” I say, more firmly than I’ve been able to speak all day. “This isn’t your fault. Besides, you can’t cancel the kingdom every time I feel a little under the weather.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Watch me.”

“The public will start to worry if they hear I’m hospitalized,” I say, thinking of the headlines that are likely already circulating.

“Let them worry. Parker’s already handling the press. Just a standard statement about the queen resting under doctor’s supervision. Nothing about the virus or risk to the baby.”

The medication begins to work its way through my system, dulling the nausea and making my eyelids heavy. Tristan notices immediately.

“Sleep,” he urges, brushing hair from my forehead. “I’ll be right here.”

“You should go back to the palace,” I murmur, fighting to stay awake. “There’s that call with the prime minister…”

He shakes his head. “Parker’s handling it. I’m not leaving you.”

As I drift toward sleep, I feel Tristan shift to stretch out beside me on the narrow hospital bed, careful not to disturb the IV or monitors. His arm creates a protective barrier around me, his warmth a comfort against the chill of the room.

“I love you,” he whispers against my hair. “Both of you.”

In this moment, despite the sterile surroundings and the lingering discomfort, I feel profoundly safe.

Tomorrow will bring its own challenges—rescheduled appointments, concerned staff, and the inevitable press frenzy over the health of Haldonia’s future heir.

But tonight, in the circle of Tristan’s arms, I allow myself to simply be Amelia—not the queen, not the public figure, just a woman loved fiercely by her husband.

“We love you too,” I whisper back, and let sleep claim me at last.