Page 92 of Royal Caleva: Luis

“Basura,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Trash can?” she translated to confirm.

He nodded, the tendons in his neck standing out with strain.

She desperately scanned the room and saw a leather trash can sitting beside a desk. Racing to grab it and return to his side, she knelt and placed it in front of him. He vomited into the receptacle so violently that it seemed like his stomach might come up his throat.

He dry-heaved a few more times before he let go of the trash can and braced his hands on the floor on either side of it. Lifting his head, he said, “I’m never ill.”

She remembered his comment about eating a lot of strange things in his travels. “I know.”

“Call Mikel,” he said and then vomited again.

Panic welled up in her throat at the implications. “I don’t have my phone.”

He swallowed hard and ground out, “Panic button. Beside door.”

She pushed to her feet and raced for the main door. A red button was mounted on the wall. She pressed it several times before running back to kneel at Luis’s side.

She was a medical professional, even if it was for nonhuman patients. She needed to focus. “Luis, tell me what you’re feeling beside the nausea.”

“Pain in my abdomen. In my thighs.” He paused to inhale deeply. “Tingling in my feet.”

“When did it start?” She laid her hand gently on his back to offer comfort.

“Just now. No, I felt the nausea earlier. Ignored it.” He wrapped his hands around his stomach with another groan. “Not food poisoning. Ate here all—”

He collapsed, his head striking the trash can, which she grabbed before it could spill its contents.

“Luis!” She rolled him onto his side to keep him from aspirating in case he vomited again. But his body lolled in a way that said he was unconscious. “Shit!” She yanked a pillow off a nearby chair and wedged it under his head before she checked his pulse. Weak and fast but there.

The door flew open, and Mikel rushed in, followed by two men with guns drawn. Mikel took in the scene with a sharp glance and turned to his men. “Get a gurney and the ambulance.”

“What happened?” he barked at Eve, kneeling beside Luis to pick up the same wrist she had.

“We were talking, and he suddenly doubled over,” Eve said. “He threw up twice before he collapsed. He said his thighs hurt, his feet are tingling, and he was nauseated earlier.”

Mikel nodded in acknowledgment of Eve’s summary as he checked Luis’s breathing. The two men raced back through the door, wheeling a gurney between them.

“Help me,” Mikel commanded them.

The three of them lifted Luis onto the stretcher with exquisite gentleness, tilting the back up so he didn’t risk choking on vomit. One took a basin from a shelf beneath it and placed it on Luis’s legs before gently strapping him securely to the gurney.

Eve wanted to reach out to him, but the men were in her way, standing on either side of Luis.

She tore her gaze away from his white, slack face when no one moved toward the door. “Shouldn’t you go to the hospital now?”

Mikel nodded, his face like granite. “The moment the corridor is clear. We don’t want anyone seeing the king on a stretcher.” He went still in that way his men did when listening to their earpiece. “Let’s go!” he commanded.

Something nagged at Eve’s brain. If Luis hadn’t ingested poison through something he had eaten, how could he have gotten so sick?

“Rat poison!” she said, jogging behind the swiftly moving gurney. “Tell the doctors to check for thallium poisoning.”

Mikel threw her a skeptical glance. “How could he have eaten rat poison?”

“You can absorb it through the skin,” she said. “He has weakness and pain in his thighs. That can be a symptom of thallium poisoning. I’ve seen dogs collapse like that.”

Mikel nodded, his gaze focused and sharp. “I’ll make sure to tell them.”

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