Chapter 3 – Bellamy #2
The plane lands, and not even ten minutes later, we’re driving through the high wrought iron gates and imposing shrubbery of the palace.
It’s a beautiful day in Messalina. The sky is a cloudless pale blue, and the air is cool without being too cold.
This palace sits at the base of the Alps, though it is still more in the valley than the mountains, which keeps much of the snowfall and frigid temperatures away.
The moment my feet hit the gravel of the driveway, the front doors of the palace fling open, and three small bodies come racing our way.
Phaedra is forever in the lead, followed by Sabrina and, of course, little Zayer following everywhere his sisters go.
At not even four, I can already tell he’s going to be every bit as large and commanding as his father.
I crouch down, arms spread wide, and one by one, they slam into me, hugging me as fiercely as I’m hugging them. “Queen, princess, my little prince…I missed you all so terribly much.”
I smother them with kisses and squeezes, holding on as tight as I can.
“Gentle with Bellamy’s belly,” Sebastian admonishes, and I stick out my tongue at him, making Phaedra giggle.
“Don’t ruin my squeezes.”
“Ah, but you’ve hogged them enough.”
Sebastian scoops Zayer into his arms and tosses him high in the air, only to immediately set him down and start hugging and kissing the girls, stealing them from me one by one, and I can’t help but smile as warmth spreads through me.
His heart has always belonged to his children.
They’re what’s kept him going all these years.
The love and affection he gives them is what first thawed me to him.
“We missed you,” he says, peppering each with hugs and kisses. My heart clenches at how he says we. Our wedding happened exactly six days ago, and before that, I was their nanny. We hid much of our relationship from the children until shortly before we got engaged.
Now I’m their stepmother, but the way Sebastian speaks, there is no division between us as parents. I’m a mother to three going on five children at only twenty-two, but I can’t imagine it any other way now.
“Papa!” Phaedra cries. “It’s Friday. Can we make dinner and watch a movie the way we always do?”
Sebastian and I exchange looks just as Althea and Rowan exit the front door, both wearing serious, stringent masks.
“We can, my darlings,” I tell them, offering a smile I hardly feel. “First, I have to check on my father.”
“Grandpapa fell,” Sabrina tells me, her expression full of sympathy. “He got hurt. Phaedra says it’s a broken bone and that’s why he has the plaster on his arm.”
“I know, kiddo. But don’t worry, his wrist will heal, and he’ll be better.” I hope. I stand and immediately Althea drags me in for a hug. “You’re going to make me cry,” I tell her, already sniffling. Damn pregnancy hormones.
“He’s okay. The doctors have him a bit sedated as he already tried to tear off the cast they have him in, but he does not require surgery.”
“That’s a relief.” I pull away and find Sebastian and Rowan off to the side, conversing in hurried, hushed tones. “Did something else happen?” I whisper.
Althea’s grave eyes meet mine. “They found the pajamas Princess Desta was taken in. With blood on them.”
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth, but work to keep my voice quiet. “Oh, god. How awful.”
Sebastian picks up both Sabrina and Phaedra, holding one on each hip.
“Come now, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.
I want you to tell me all about the trouble you’ve gotten into while we’ve been gone.
And Sabrina, don’t bother lying and saying you didn’t get into any.
I happen to know trouble is your middle name. ”
The girls immediately launch into stories, and I lift Zayer, who tucks into me, and we all head into the palace.
“Do they know if it’s her blood?” I question Althea quietly.
She shakes her head. “No. Just that they found it beneath the mattress of a broken crib. This cottage…” She shakes her head again. “Mon dieu. It is a disaster. But I think at this point it is clear this is where Desta was first taken after she was kidnapped.”
“Althea…” I trail off. I can’t even finish that.
“Rowan is not handling this well and I have a feeling Sebastian won’t either.”
“No. I imagine he won’t.”
Emily and her husband, Javier, who is the chief of security, greet us inside the main parlor, the large sweeping room where I broke the bust of Sebastian’s great-grandfather, which is how I ended up working in the palace in the first place.
We exchange hellos, but I’m anxious to get upstairs to see my father, and Emily recognizes it.
“Let me take him for you.”
“Thank you!” I kiss Zayer’s head and set him down. He takes Emily’s hand, and I race up the large stone steps to the second floor and practically sprint to the guest wing where Sebastian had two rooms redone for my father.
There’s a doctor in scrubs and a white coat standing outside the room, pressed against the wall and on her phone. When she notices me coming, she immediately ends her call and stops me before I can enter.
“Your Majesty,” she says with a small curtsy that I’ll never in all my years get used to. I am an American girl who married the king of Messalina. It’s one thing for Sebastian to call me his queen, but it’s entirely something else for strangers to do it or consider me to be royalty.
I extend my hand. “Hi. I’m Bellamy.”
She blinks at me, stunned by my lack of formality and airs, but quickly adjusts.
“All right, Bellamy. I am Dr. Leigh, but you can call me Jocelyn. I am the attending physician on your father’s case, but purely from an orthopedic standpoint.
That said, I have been collaborating with his regular neurologist, Dr. Franks. ”
“How is my father?” I ask, cutting past all the bullshit I have no time or desire for.
“He is…comfortable,” she says after a slight pause. “He’s been quite disoriented as well as combative. He’s confused, which is natural with his condition, especially after a big episode. Those seem to make confusion worse for patients. His cold isn’t helping things either.”
“How long will he have to stay sedated?”
She shifts her stance. “It’s unclear at this time.
We don’t love sedating people for long periods of time, and the medication won’t help his cognitive function.
Unfortunately, it’s a balancing act. We’re hoping we can keep him on something light that will be just enough to keep him calm and comfortable and yet awake and as alert as he can be. ”
I swallow past the tight lump forming high in my throat and force a jerky nod.
“I just want him comfortable and at peace as much as possible. I know he’s slipping away.
I know it. I’m just not…” I blow out a breath and stare up at the ceiling, willing the tears that burn the backs of my eyes away.
“I’m just not ready for the next phase of this. ”
Her hand clasps my shoulder and I lower my chin until our eyes meet.
“No one is. He is your father. My own papa struggled with cancer for years and it never gets easier. But may I say, your expectations are reasonable and where they should be. We can make him comfortable, and we can take the edge off his aggression. That’s about the best we can do though. ”
“I appreciate your candor,” I tell her, sincerity bleeding from my lips. “May I go in and see him?”
“Of course.” She gives me a slight smile and steps back, giving me access to my father’s room.
I twist the knob and immediately note how warm it is in here.
Practically sweltering, even in this centuries-old palace made of stone, so therefore more influenced by the weather than a smaller, more modern home.
My father is lying in his bed asleep with a white cast covering his left hand up to his wrist and forearm. Thankfully it’s not his dominant hand.
He looks so peaceful like this. And for a moment, I imagine he’s simply resting.
That he is the way he was when we first left America after my mother’s death, trying to outrun our grief and traveling around Europe, finding new adventures and living moment to moment.
It was just us then, living in tiny apartments and sometimes barely getting by.
I always wanted more. Wanted stability and friends and normalcy.
My father was the opposite. He felt weighed down by that concept.
Like, the moment he stopped moving, he’d realize my mother was gone and have to deal with it.
We didn’t stop until I was seventeen and ready to start university and picked Messalina.
Now this is where we are, and it’s light-years from where we started.
I take a seat on the edge of the bed and grasp his good hand, hating how it feels cold despite the warmth of the room.
“I love you, Dad. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.
” I gulp and stare down at my tiny bump.
A tiny bump the world doesn’t know about yet.
“I can’t wait for you to meet your new grandchildren.
Think of how fun and exciting that will be.
We just have to get through this and then everything will be okay again. ”
It comes out as a wish. As a prayer. One my heart is pleading for.
The door creaks open and I twist to find Sebastian haloed in the glow from the hallway.
He doesn’t look well. His expression is stiff and stoic, and his coloring is off.
My prayer immediately multiplies. Because I hope my king is able to find what he’s seeking.
And I hope, beyond all measure, that both my prayers come true and don’t leave us in a sea of ruin.