Page 26 of Royal Love
“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.
CHAPTER 18
TRISTAN
The steady beep of the heart monitor has become my companion through the night. I’ve counted each pulse, matching them to my own heartbeats, finding comfort in their rhythmic certainty while everything else feels so precarious.
I shift in the bed and check my watch. 4:17 a.m. The fluorescent lights in the hallway cast an unnatural glow under the door, making sleep nearly impossible, though that’s not what’s kept me awake. It’s the sight of Amelia, my Lia, lying in the hospital bed next to me, her face pale but peaceful in sleep, one hand resting protectively over her stomach.
Our baby. The thought still catches me off guard sometimes, flooding me with equal parts terror and joy.
When the nurse pushes the door open, I turn so that I can see her, fully alert. She gives me a sympathetic smile as she checks Lia’s vitals.
“How is she?” I whisper, not wanting to wake my wife.
“Improving steadily,” the nurse says, making notes on her tablet. “Blood pressure’s back to normal. That’s very good.” She glances at me, taking in my rumpled suit and the dark circles under my eyes. I got rid of my jacket at some point, but I’m notexactly comfortable. “You should try to get some real sleep, Your Majesty.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine right here.”
She doesn’t argue, having learned over the past twenty-four hours that the King of Haldonia isn’t leaving his wife’s side, royal duties be damned.
When the door closes behind her, I roll over, and press the heels of my hands against my eyes. The image of Lia collapsing yesterday during the library dedication is burned into my memory—her face suddenly draining of color, her hand reaching for me as her knees buckled. I’ve never moved so fast in my life, catching her before she hit the floor, the room erupting in gasps and shouts. I’ve watched the video that someone recorded more times than I care to admit. It’s as if I’m punishing myself because I wasn’t there.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
My head rolls over at the sound of Lia’s voice, rough with sleep but the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in hours. Since the last time I heard her talk, all I’ve wanted is to hear more words, to know she’s okay.
“Hey,” I say, turning back over, taking her hand in mine. “How are you feeling?”
She smiles weakly. “Like I’ve been run over by the royal carriage.” Her free hand moves to her stomach. “Is the baby?—”
“Fine,” I say quickly, placing my hand over hers. “The baby’s fine. Just perfect. The doctor said it was just dehydration and exhaustion brought on by the virus. Your body telling you to slow down.” I don’t mention that we already discussed most of this. I know she’s worried.
The relief in her eyes makes my chest tighten. “I was so scared,” she whispers.
“Me too.” I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “But you’re both okay, and that’s all that matters.”
“What time is it?” She glances toward the window, where the first hints of dawn are starting to appear.
“Too early. Go back to sleep.”
She studies my face, her eyes softening. “Have you slept at all?”
