The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Kyra, dear, you look dreadful. Go home and rest. Have some sleep and maybe a nice bath, and then you can come back and be rested for when Nicky awakens.”

  I drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, ma’am, but I would prefer to stay here with Nicky. I don’t want to leave him.” Threading my fingers through my husband’s, I gave his hand a slight squeeze. “But I appreciate your concern.”

  For a moment, Her Majesty didn’t respond. She simply stood and regarded me thoughtfully.

  I cleared my throat. “If it was me lying in this bed, unconscious, with my prognosis unclear, do you think Nicky would leave my side for even a second, ma’am? Do you think anyone would be able to convince him to do so?”

  A reluctant smile played at the corners of the Queen’s lips. “My grandson is quite stubborn, and he is definitely smitten with you. I don’t think I’d care to take on the task of forcing him to leave your sickbed.” She let out a long, sad sigh. “And to be honest, if I had been in your shoes, my answer would’ve been the same.”

  I nodded. “I thought that, too, ma’am.”

  The Queen came around the bed to stand next to me, resting one hand lightly on my shoulder. “I had to try, though, you know. Alexandra and Daisy are both worried about you, as are my son and daughter-in-law. They think you’re going to end up in a hospital bed, too, if you don’t take care.”

  “I’m getting sleep, I promise. Right here.” I patted the small space on the bed between where Nicky’s arm lay and the edge of the mattress. “I rest better here than I ever would back at Kensington, worrying the whole time that Nicky might wake up and not see me here, or that something might get—” With a snap of my mouth, I fell silent. I didn’t dare utter the words. I only allowed myself positive thoughts. It was how I was clinging to my sanity.

  “And I’m sure you already feel somewhat betrayed because you’ve been kept in the dark all these months about the threats from this horrid eco-terrorist group.” The Queen might have been in her nineties, but she was sharp. Nothing was beyond her eye for detail.

  I pressed my lips together. “I’m not allowing myself to think about that just yet, ma’am. I don’t want to work up a good mad at Nicky when he’s not awake to explain himself to me—and I only want to bring positive energy into this room. No resentment or unhappiness.”

  “Good thinking.” She reached out a hand to touch Nicky’s arm. “Just so you’re aware, though . . . we, all of us, encouraged Nicky to inform you once Scotland Yard had identified this cell as a legitimate threat. After all, he was off to special defense training on some weekends, and then your protection officer also is away for added training, too, isn’t he?”

  My nod was slow as I thought of Harold. I wondered if he knew what had happened to Nicky. The truth about what had been going on in the past months—since right after our honeymoon—had slowly trickled down to me in bits and pieces since Saturday night. I had learned that like me, Daisy knew nothing. Alex was similarly in the dark, though she’d surmised some of the situation from overheard conversations and simple hunches.

  It was the betrayal of my husband and of both Harold and Simon that stung, although I’d been honest when I’d told Her Majesty that I wasn’t allowing myself to think of this just now. I couldn’t afford the expenditure of emotional energy.

  “Nicky was adamant, though,” the Queen went on. “He said that you deserved your first year of marriage, your first year in this family, to be as stress-free and happy as possible. He was trying to protect you in more ways than one, although I imagine that’s cold comfort, all things considered.”

  “It is, ma’am, but . . .” My sleep-deprived brain struggled to put my thoughts into some kind of order. “But I understand what he meant. I don’t agree with what he did, and in fact, I knew he was keeping something from me, which caused more friction between us than it otherwise might, had I realized the truth. But I know his motivation was good. His heart was in the right place, as my grandmother used to say.”

  The Queen’s eyes twinkled at me. “But once he’s awake and well on the road to recovery, that won’t stop you from letting him know exactly how you feel about being deceived all this time, will it?”

  I snorted. “No, ma’am, it won’t. Once I know he’s really and truly safe and on his way to being well, we’re going to have some serious words.”

  “Good for you.” She sounded pleased, and that gave me a small spark of hope. If the Queen was optimistic, then perhaps I could drum up some happy thoughts, too. Maybe Nicky truly was going to wake up, and maybe he’d be completely whole again eventually.

  I watched Her Majesty as she gazed at her grandson, and with a twinge of conscience, I rose to my feet. “Ma’am, if you’d like a moment with Nicky, I can step out.”

  She shook her head. “Thank you, Kyra, but I’m having a moment with him now, and it’s all the better for you being here, too. I don’t need any privacy to pray for him.”

  “Neither do I,” I admitted softly.

  For the next few minutes, both the monarch of Great Britain and I stood in the early morning dim light, both of us lifting up pleas for mercy and healing for this man whom we both loved so very much.

  Although the Palace had tried very hard to keep the extent of Nicky’s injuries out of the news, that was an impossible task. Too many people had known that he had been in attendance at the meeting where the bomb had gone off; too many people were already talking about the tragic explosion that had taken seven lives and left countless others injured. Rumors that Nicky was badly hurt began to circulate, with a few suggesting that he’d died but that the Palace couldn’t release that news until the perpetrators had been found and arrested.

  In the face of such misinformation, Buckingham Palace made a formal statement on Monday afternoon, a short few sentences that admitted Prince Nicholas had been injured but was receiving excellent care at the hospital and would be home within days. I felt that this might have been tempting fate by claiming something that was patently untrue. Yes, Nicky had been injured and was receiving the best care in the world, but I thought it very doubtful that he’d be out of the hospital in the following week, let alone days.

  He hadn’t awakened yet, and that was troubling all of us. The cuts on his face and arms were beginning to slowly heal, and the bruises that I’d seen on his torso and legs were changing colors. The doctors had assured us that, miraculously, there were no internal injuries, and that was indeed wonderful, but we also knew that the longer he remained in a coma, the worse the outcome could be. He was still unconscious as his brain healed. He was still on the ventilator, which was helping him to breathe. He was still attached to a scary amount of tubes and wires.

  Someone on the Palace staff had kindly informed my family back in the states about what was going on. My parents, my grandmother and my sisters had all been assured that I was fine and safe and that Nicky was doing as well as could be expected, all things considered. Of course, they’d seen the media coverage and worried about both of us.

  My mother had called, offering to fly over to be with me, offering to send Honey or my sisters over . . . anything I needed. I wanted to say yes, please. I wanted the security of leaning on my mom, of letting her take care of me, but I also knew that there was nothing they could really do at this point. I’d assured her that if and when I needed my family to come to me, I’d let them know. I knew it must have been excruciating for her to hear that, but for now, she agreed that waiting was for the best.

  The truth was that I didn’t have enough emotional energy to deal with other people trying to help me. My focus had to be wholly on Nicky. I wouldn’t allow anything else.

  I did notice, though, that of all my family and closest friends who were in the loop about Nicky’s condition, only Shelby hadn’t reached out. She hadn’t responded to the message I’d left her or to the text I’d sent. It hurt a little, that my best friend outside of my husband and sisters wasn’t responding, but I couldn’t think about it now. I’d examine
what was going on with Shelby later. After Nicky recovered. Once he was home, with me. I clung to that thought like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood.

  On Tuesday morning, while I was in the waiting room during the doctors’ examination and consultation time, the screen on my phone, which I’d been keeping charged at the outlet close to Nicky’s bed, lit up with a familiar name and number. I was suddenly homesick for my dear friend Sophie, who had been such a valuable ally and supporter in her role as my press liaison leading up to our wedding day. I wished she was here with me, now, in this room, helping me to get through this trial; Sophie was one of those rare souls who would’ve known instinctively what I needed even before I asked.

  Instead, Sophie and her soon-to-be husband Garrett Smith were living in Canada for the time being. Garrett was working for a newspaper there, and Sophie was continuing to do her job in the press department of Honey Bee Juices—just from a distance for now.

  When I answered the phone, I heard the worry in my friend’s tone. “Kyra—oh, sorry, Your Royal Highness, how are you? Garrett and I have been so worried since we heard the news. What can we do to help?”

  I sighed. “Nothing, except pray for Nicky and send good positive vibes his way. He needs them all.”

  “Do you want me to fly over there?” Sophie’s immediate response and offer went a little further to remind me that I wasn’t alone. My family and my friends were with me, even if it was only in spirit at the moment.

  “Thank you. I love you for offering that, but no. For now, you stay where you are and love that man of yours. You two have a wedding to plan, for heaven’s sake. You can’t be flittering off hither and yon.”

  Sophie chuckled. “One, I’ll remind you that I lived through your wedding planning with you, and that was plenty of bridal delight for one lifetime, thanks very much. We’re keeping things super simple. Two, the wedding in question is taking place in London, where you are. So it wouldn’t be a hardship to fly over.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. “Kyra, you know that nearly every good thing I have in my life now came via my association with you. Garrett . . . my job at Honey Bee . . . I could never begin to thank you. So trust me when I say that if you need me, I’m there. No questions asked.”

  Sobs gathered at the back of my throat, but I swallowed them down as I had every threatening tear over the past days. “Thank you, Sophie. Truly, that means an enormous amount to me, and I feel very much the same way—you were my anchor amidst a sea of palace craziness, and I’ll never forget that.”

  We were both quiet for a moment, emotion heavy on our hearts, before I cleared my throat and asked the question I’d been hesitating to pose. “I haven’t looked at any headlines or social media since last week. I know the Palace issued a statement about Nicky being hurt, but . . . what is everyone saying?”

  She was silent for a moment. “After a day of panic during which there was so much speculation about what was really going on—and I think that’s what pushed the statement—there’s been nothing but support and love for you both. I’ve read several articles praising the Duchess—that’s you—for refusing to leave her husband’s hospital room. I assumed that part was actually accurate.”

  “It is.” I didn’t need praise for it. Staying close to Nicky wasn’t a choice as much as it was a necessity, like breathing.

  “There is something I’m not sure if I should mention.” Sophie made a small sound of frustration. “Which, of course, now I must explain, because I just did bring it up.”

  I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. “Go ahead. Lay it on me.”

  “Garrett’s still in touch with some of his old colleagues from his brief foray into covering the royals, you know. And there’s some scuttlebutt among them, apparently. Someone—not from the press, but a private individual—is trying to sell photos of you from a house party. This person claims that the pictures are from this past weekend and that they show you dancing intimately with a man not your husband. And he says that this happened around the same time the bomb was going off and Nicky was injured.”

  “Oh, holy shit.” I groaned the words, impatience and frustration rising up in me. “That’s complete crap, Sophie. I know exactly what these pictures are, and they’re not me dancing intimately with a man not my husband.” I rubbed the back of my neck where a headache was blossoming. “I was being harassed by a guy at this party—where I was with Princess Daisy, by the way—and my security officer, Simon, rescued me from the situation by inviting me to dance. He didn’t hold me intimately. It was very proper and aboveboard.”

  “Simon? Where was Harold?” I’d forgotten that Sophie had known Harold nearly as well as I did, having worked with him during her tenure at the palace.

  “He’s away for training, but he’ll be back. Simon is taking his place until he’s finished. He’s a very nice man, but trust me when I say that absolutely nothing is going on. He was doing his job, protecting me.”

  “Hmmm.” Sophie’s answering sigh was weighted. “If these photos come out, someone may have to explain all of that. Apparently, in addition to the dance, there are also some pictures of you and the unnamed man leaving the dance floor and slipping off into the shadows.”

  “Of course, there are.” I gritted my teeth. “I can’t go into details, Sophie, but that was part of Simon removing me from a potentially dangerous situation. Moments after we left the dance floor, we were informed about Nicky’s—about what happened at the meeting.” I shuddered and drew in a deep breath. “While I appreciate you letting me know about this—and I’ll drop a word in the right ears, believe me—right now, I can’t worry about stupid pictures and how people might interpret them. I have to focus all of my energy on helping Nicky to recover.”

  “Yes, of course you do.” She sounded contrite. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “I’m glad you did. I’d rather be able to come out ahead of nonsense like this, and it will help if the Palace isn’t taken by surprise. Thank you, Sophie, and please thank Garrett for me, too.” I glanced over my shoulder to where the doctors were emerging from Nicky’s room. “I need to go now, but I’ll keep in touch. Love you, Soph.”

  “Love to you, too, Kyra, and love to Nicky, too. Stay strong. Call if you need anything at all.”

  Ending the call, I made my way down the corridor, my heartbeat picking up speed as I approached the waiting physicians. The one closest to me caught my eye and smiled.

  “Your Royal Highness.” He made a small bow. “We’re pleased to tell you that we believe His Royal Highness is showing signs of recovery. The swelling in the brain that had caused us such concern seems to be abating. The prince is responding to all of the treatment, and we have every reason to expect a good outcome.”

  The doctor standing alongside the first one made a noise in the back of her throat. “But please be aware, ma’am, that until the prince awakens and we can run cognitive tests, we cannot offer assurances about whether or not there will be any lasting damage or how complete the eventual recovery might be.” She side-eyed her colleague. “We don’t know about speech and motor function yet.”

  A third doctor spoke up. “I concur with both of my associates. The prince is showing signs of recovery, and all results are encouraging. But at the same time, we must remain only cautiously optimistic. We can’t know a prognosis for certain, not yet. I do believe the next few days will reveal more, and I trust it will be good news.”

  He winked at me, and I decided that he was my favorite. I wanted the truth, and I didn’t want it sugar-coated, but neither did I need to hear doom and gloom.

  The first doctor added, “We’re weaning the prince off the medications that have helped keep him still during this initial treatment, and it’s very likely that we’ll see him begin to show signs of wakefulness soon, perhaps even as soon as later today.”

  “Really?” I had never wanted anything more than to see Nicky’s beautiful bright blue eyes, the ones he’d i
nherited from the Queen, looking back at me.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Doctor Number Three beamed. “That being said, perhaps now would be a good time for you to go home and have some sleep, so that you’re feeling rested when the prince regains consciousness.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Now that I know he’s on the way to waking up, there is no way in hell that I’m going anywhere.” I grinned. “Besides, after hearing this news, I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to.”

  Doctor Number Two sighed. “I didn’t think you would.”

  Over the next six hours, I didn’t move an inch from my chair alongside Nicky’s bed. When my energy flagged—and it did, eventually, as the hopeful adrenaline faded from my bloodstream—I would nod off and then jerk awake, terrified that I’d missed something.

  Nicky’s parents had heard the news, too, and they came to the hospital in the late morning. The Duchess’s face was lined with worry, along with a glimmer of expectation. I thought ruefully that I’d seen both of them age over the past three days and wondered if people thought the same thing about me.

  Alex, Jake and Daisy all arrived at lunchtime, bearing boxes of all my favorite foods from various London restaurants. For the first time since Saturday, I was actually slightly hungry, and I managed to eat enough to satisfy my worried in-laws for the time being.

  During the day, I’d noticed that Nicky had been growing more restless. The utter stillness that had so frightened me all along was fading away, as his legs and arms began to twitch and stir. By late afternoon, his eyes were fluttering, and his lips moved in soundless shapes around the ventilator tube that was still helping him to breathe.

  The sun was just beginning to grow dim through the hospital windows when Nicky’s eyelids fluttered again—and this time, they stayed open. His forehead wrinkled as his brow drew together in confusion. He glanced around the room, his eyes darting from side to side, until they stopped on me.