Page 92 of She's My Queen

“Very good,” she says. “Can you open your eyes, or do you want to sleep some more?”

I try to open my eyelids again. They part, and through my lashes, I spot Severio sitting at my bedside on my right, jet-black hair looking unkept, a five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He looks worn out, but his blue eyes are wide and alert, anticipatory.

I squeeze his hand again, quietly thanking him for being here. If he wasn’t, I’m not sure I’d feel safe. I have so much to tell him, and I’m so glad he’s alive and breathing.

I want to rub my eyes to open them. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, Nedda’s face comes into view before a warm cloth gently swipes over my eyes. “There we go,” she says. “Better?”

I try to nod, but pain shoots into my head. I wince.

“What? What? What happened?” Severio asks, looking at the nurse.

“Cristina, try not to move.” She taps my neck brace.

She did tell me not to nod.

“Okay,” I manage to say without nodding. The willpower it takes to avoid nodding when agreeing is pretty substantial.

“Do you know your date of birth?”

I answer, but it’s more like I’m seeking confirmation from her. “That’s correct. Who is the current prime minister?”

Severio grits his teeth. “Ask another question.”

“Do you know who this man is?” Nedda points at Severio.

As he watches me form words, he swallows hard, his posture straightening, the armor a military general would wear shielding him as quickly as he can mentally summon it. He thinks I won’t remember. “My general,” I say.

His eyes widen.

Nedda asks again.

“Severio Mancini,” I confirm, and his shoulders drop. He rubs his face and runs a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed.

“I think I heard Corrado,” I say.

“I’m here.” Severino’s brother pushes off the wall and comes out from the shadows. His hands are in his pockets, and he also looks unkempt. Seeing how these two are with each other makes me wish I had a sibling. If I ever have kids, I’ll have more than one. Five, maybe, though I doubt Severio would want that many.

Nedda examines me and tests my reflexes, asking me more questions and telling me I suffered a concussion and an injury that required surgery from which I’m expected to fully recover. But I’ve been under for two days instead of only a few hours after surgery, so my attending will examine me more when he gets in tomorrow morning.

Severio informs Nedda that he expects the attending to appear tonight. God bless my fierce man who won’t take no or tomorrow for an answer.

“I’m on it,” Corrado says. Yeah, the attending is coming, or getting dragged in here. It’s how we do things in the Order. We want our people taken care of now, not later.

Once Nedda leaves, Severio scoots closer. He takes my hand into both of his and kisses it. “You’ll be okay,” he tells me.

Again, I want to nod.

“Don’t nod,” he says.

He knows me so well, even if we’ve been together for only a short time. Since his black button-up shirt is open and looks wrinkled, the seashell necklace hangs from his neck along with the wedding band. I stretch for it, but can’t touch it.

Severio reaches behind his neck, and as he’s unclasping the chain, I get to watch his biceps flex. He lets the chain fall into my palm, closes my fist around it, and kisses my fingers. “Here you go, but don’t cut yourself on the shell.”

I bend my arm at the elbow, proud that I can let the necklace dangle from my fingers. My dexterity is returning. I’m hopeful for my recovery.

“Remember the story Frenchy told you about me carrying you into the restaurant when you cut your foot?” he asks.

“Yes.”

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