Page 133 of Thrones We Steal

I lift a hand and rub at my forehead. The IV tubing in my arm follows. “My head hurts like crazy.”

“That’s because you have a concussion and a fractured skull.” She tugs my hand away and places it back on my lap. “You’ll be in recovery for a while.”

“How long?”

“As long as the doctor orders.”

“I have responsibilities.”

“You have a fractured skull.”

“I’m going to be fine though, right? No brain damage or anything?” If there is, I’ll likely need to abdicate, and this whole thing will have been for nothing.

“They don’t think so, but they want to keep an eye on you just in case.”

I close my eyes and press my head further back into the cracker masquerading as a pillow. “Is the driver okay?”

Her face pinches, and I know from the way she aggressively smooths the sheet. “He died on impact.”

I don’t even know his name, and now he’s dead. “Please arrange for flowers to be sent to the family.”

She nods. “Of course. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“You said we hit a barrier of some kind? What happened?”

“The car lost a wheel, and the driver lost control. It all happened very quickly.”

“What about the rest of the motorcade? Did they …?”

“They were able to avert it. They got you out immediately and brought you here.”

I look around the room. It’s spacious, and all of the curtains are pulled. Bouquets of flowers cover nearly every surface. I can already envision the approaching arguments between Rosalind and the nurses over the use of flat surfaces. Naturally, my mum will win and the flowers will stay. Medication is second-rate to aesthetic after all.

One bouquet in the corner has a yellow balloon floating above it. I move to sit up, and she pushes another pillow behind my back.

“Careful,” she warns. “Too much movement too fast will make your head hurt.”

“Yeah, discovered that,” I say around a wince. “Get rid of that balloon, please.”

“Consider it done.” She smooths my pillow once more.

“How does one increase the dosage of these meds?”

She shakes her head. “The doctor wanted you to wake up, so she’s limited your painkillers for now. Try to go a little longer without another dose.”

“Not all of us have the pain threshold of a stunt double.”

“Try to rest. That will help.” She pats my hand like I’m three years old again and in bed with a cold.

Someone knocks on the door, and she moves to open it. Instead of letting them in however, she shuts it again after a few words.

“Who was it?” I say when she comes back to the bed.

“Daphne. They’ve limited visits to immediate family only.” She holds up the bag in her hand. “But she brought your salvation!”

“Indian take-out?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s makeup.” She opens the bag and starts rummaging through it.

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