Chapter 22 - Alexandria
ALEXANDRIA
Isat in the chair, looking out at the night, my mind muddled, circling around all the moments that I needed to understand:
As a child I had time traveled…
To North Carolina, but then what?
How had I been adopted? Who chose my parents and how did my mom and dad decide to take me in as their own?
Had they known I was a princess?
I was pretty sure they did, because of what they never said.
They never told me I was adopted.
They didn’t explain why or how.
They had pretended like my birth had been at the local hospital.
They acted like if I needed a passport I could just get one. They had taken me to the DMV with paperwork to get my license when I was sixteen years old.
Why hadn’t I looked at my birth certificate then?
Because it had been a non-issue.
Man, I wished there was someone to ask about all this, anyone who was still alive — my uncle, I needed to call my uncle and talk to him. Why hadn’t I called him since I knew?
Because I hated for him to lie to me.
I could ask Aunt Claray, she might know.
But then I had fallen asleep, forgetting that I was sitting upright in a chair, outside, facing the direction of the woods, making soldiers guard me because I wouldn’t go inside—
My dream was a rehash, not as deep and scary as it sometimes was, a voice saying, “Och nae, lass, hold on…”
I felt, as I often did, a kind of loss, that this was repeating, this moment—
a nudge on my shoulder and a voice — Your Highness…
Who was ‘Your Highness’?
It sounded like a whole another different person was wanted, but then again, Your Highness…
It was directed at me and startled me awake.
“Who… wha…?” I rubbed my neck, ow, that was a dumb way to… Your highness there’s been a—
It was a soldier.
My heart dropped to my toes.
His mouth was moving, but my mind exploded. His expression looked concerned. It was bad news, a soldier was delivering bad news.
Someone was holding my hand. It was Aunt Claray. I looked at her face, worried, and back at the soldier — time had slowed.
“Did he die?”
Aunt Claray said, “Dear, Torin is injured but…” She was talking slowly, too slow, being too emotional.
I needed facts.
I looked up at the soldier, he was standing, he looked official, he looked like he would tell me.
“What? Tell me fast, is Torin okay?”
He said, “Your Highness, your husband has been injured. He is expected to stabilize very soon, Prince Maximillian and Colonel Larson are both critically injured.”
My mouth opened and closed. “Who’s Colonel Larson?”
Claray said, “That’s your Uncle Charlie, Alexandria.”
Farther away I heard the sound of boots on gravel. Engines roaring to life.
I heard, “…calling a state of emergency,” and the world snapped into focus. I stood, blanket falling behind me, my heart racing. Aunt Claray’s face had gone pale. Someone put shawls around our shoulders.
The night air was cold, the camp lit by harsh floodlights. Ahead of us soldiers were rushing around, and Aunt Claray and I were surrounded by guards, rushing to a jeep with its engine running.
The ride took three minutes to cross the encampment and felt like a lifetime.
The jeep screeched to a halt outside the med bay.
Inside it was too bright, and smelled of antiseptic and blood. My head spun.
Uncle Ryan stood in the waiting area, his military jacket torn, soot and blood streaking his face.
Aenghus was beside him, massive arms folded tight, eyes fixed on the double doors that led to what I guessed was the surgery. When he saw me he said, “Och nae, niece, tis goin’ tae be a long night.”
Ryan opened his arms to Claray without a word and she went straight into them, burying her face against his smoke-stained shirt.
My mouth drew down into a frown. My last hope, that I would see Torin here in the waiting room, was dashed. He wasn’t here, where was he?
“Tell me, what’s happened?”
Ryan’s voice sounded raw. “We hit Dunstaffnage, but Rannald escaped.”
Aenghus said, “Och, we paid for the attack.”
I had my hand over my mouth, unaware of the overwhelming horror washing over me.
I had said goodbye to these men just hours ago, and here they stood covered in blood.
Aenghus said, “Charlie took a blade tae the arm tryin’ tae shield Max. Lost a lot of blood. They are still seein’ tae him in surgery. Torin’s shoulder has had an arrow through it—”
“An arrow? What, is that… is it survivable? He’s hurt his shoulder before, this can’t be…” I was trembling with fear.
He said, “We haena heard from the surgeon yet, but aye, tis survivable. We will ken soon.”
I searched their faces. “And Max?”
Silence. The kind that scared the hell out of me.
Ryan rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Crossbow bolt went through the vest, through the lung. They’ve got him in surgery. He was… he was awake when we jumped, but…” He shook his head.
“Oh no, this is terrible.”
Aunt Claray dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, then took another because the first was too damp.
I couldn’t feel my legs. “I need… chair…”
Everyone was quietly dealing with their own grief, and they missed my weak request, probably because I didn’t direct the statement at anyone — they must have been surprised when I crumpled to the floor, fainting clean away.
I was brought back to consciousness on a stretcher with a kindly uniformed medical officer saying, “Princess Alexandria? Can you hear me? Look at me — what’s your name?”
“Lexi…”
“Princess Alexandria?”
Hmmmm?
Another voice, “She goes by Lexi.”
“Ah, Your Highness, look at me.” I directed my eyes at him, and blinked when a bright light was shining in.
I said, “I’m fine, I just pass out sometimes when I panic, honestly, it’s normal.”
He nodded and patted my arm.
If I wanted to prove I was fine I should get up, but I didn’t want to get up. I threw my arm over my face. “He’s going to live,” I said. It wasn’t a question; it was an order to the universe. “I need him to live, I can’t do this without him.”
Aenghus’s voice cracked. “He has tae, lass. He’s goin’ tae be our king.”
Torin, I need Torin to live.
Aenghus squeezed my shoulder.
Ryan looked ten years older than he had yesterday, weak, old, beaten. “We almost had Rannald, niece. Another thirty seconds and Torin would’ve taken his head. We were so close.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t even care about any of that, I only care that Torin and Max and Charlie don’t die.”
I sat up on the stretcher, my eyes settled on the chair where I should have gone instead of sinking to the floor. My knee was sore, come to think of it. I rubbed it and then dropped off the stretcher and Aenghus wordlessly gave me an arm to lean on and steered me to the seat.
I sank down.
I would be here, staring at those doors, just like last night staring down the road at the woods.
Claray sat beside me and took my hand in both of hers.
Ryan remained standing. He stared at the surgery doors like he could will them open by sheer fury, then he paced, then he stared.
Aenghus sank into a chair. “Ryan, ye ken, yer pacin’ won’t make it happen faster?”
Ryan took a couple more steps. “What I don’t understand is how we keep having such bad luck, is it ill-gotten, how do we stop it…? It just keeps going south.”
Aenghus glanced at me, then said to Ryan, “We daena need tae speak of the past, ye ken, brother, we need tae put all our prayers tae this moment. When our brothers-in-arms pull through, then we will discuss how our plan went tae shite and how we are once again on our back foot.” He shook his head. “Och nae…”
Ryan said, “I don’t know how we get on top of it…”
Aenghus said, “Tis neither the time nor place, we will speak on it later.”
Ryan paced.
Minutes bled into an hour. Nobody spoke. The only sounds were the distant hum of generators and the occasional muffled raised voice from the other side of the door.
Claray finally whispered, “They’re Campbells. They’re too stubborn to die.”
I managed a tearful laugh that sounded more like a sob.
Aenghus said, “Tis true, a Highlander’s heart canna stop until he decides the fight is over. Max haena decided it yet.” His throat caught, and he cleared it as if that was the issue and not being overwrought. “Revenge is a poor reason tae live but if it keeps him here, we will be grateful for it.”
Ryan gave a tired nod. “Charlie can’t leave me to fight this on my own—”
Aenghus growled, “Ye arna alone, ye hae me.”
“You know what I mean. He’s my brother.”
Aenghus said, “I ken what ye mean, I ken, I am just verra angry and daena want tae be reasonable. Rannald has been takin’ our brothers one by one for years, we hae tae see him in the ground.”
“Charlie has been threatening to haunt us if he dies before it happens.”
Aenghus moaned. “Och nae, I am haunted enough, I daena want another ghost.”
“Me neither.”
I leaned my head back against the wall, clutching Claray’s hand, and stared at those doors until my eyes burned.
Come back to me, Torin, I need you, please God, let him survive.
Please, this is too crazy to do it by myself, I need him.
And let Max survive to fight this war, it’s a righteous war, and we need him, he’s the rightful king, our parents fought for this kingdom, they built it.
And please deliver Charlie through the surgery, his family needs him, we need him for this battle.
I prayed, over and over, a silent prayer.
All of you. Please come back.