Page 15 of Learning to Love

"Of course." A younger man steps forward. He’d held the full tree pose while I'd been crying on the floor like a baby.

Elodie comes to my side and helps me up with the assistance of my bodyguard. My entire body screams at me for relief from the pain it's in.

"Why didn't you listen to me?" Elodie scolds me as we leave the studio.

"Haven't you learned yet? I'm stubborn," I reply before the pain becomes too much, and I pass out.

Nine

Elodie

The moment we leave the studio, his security detail take off, carrying an unconscious Dalton while I run along behind them. I’ve never met such a stubborn man in all my life. I could see he was struggling and gave him every opportunity to stop, but he didn’t. If I’d made him listen to me, I wouldn’t be escorting the prince’s prone figure across the Serendipity resort right now.

As we reach his apartment, his personal secretary appears with a look of horror on his face.

“What happened?” Mr. Hinchbottom helps us into the apartment and to Dalton’s bedroom. It’s a silly thing, but I happen to notice the floor is clean.

Dalton is placed on the bed, and I go to stand on his right side, wringing my hands together with worry.

“He was doing yoga, and he pushed himself too far. I suspect he’s pulled a groin muscle from the way he went down,” I explain.

“So, he’s not been shot or anything?” Mr. Hinchbottom stares at me. I notice his face is deathly pale.

“No, just a pulled groin. You probably want to call a doctor to look at him, though.”

“Thank God. I was dreading having to phone his father. I’ll go and get him a couple of painkillers and a hot compress. He’ll be fine. I’m afraid His Royal Highness is a little prone to exaggeration when injured. I remember he fell over when he was five and had this tiny scratch on his knee—you’d have thought the world was ending with the tears we had. I don’t think there was any blood, but a doctor was immediately called to attend.”

I stifle a laugh at the thought of a cute little Dalton, aged five, throwing a major tantrum because he hurt his knee.

“Don’t listen to him. There was blood, and I’ve got a scar to prove it was a nasty injury,” Dalton groans from the bed.

He tries to move but cries out in pain. I instantly reach out and take his hand. My other hand rests on his chest.

“Don’t move. Stay still until we can get you some painkillers,” I order him, and he stills under my touch.

“There was no blood in the slightest,” Mr. Hinchbottom teases, and Dalton growls back at him. “I’ll fetch the medicine. I won’t be long.”

The personal secretary leaves the room, and the other guards file out behind him, except for one who lingers at the doorway to make sure the prince is safe, alone with me.

“Why did you do that? You’re so silly. I saw you were pushing yourself too hard. I should have stopped you. Does it hurt a lot?” I question with worry.

Could I be sent to jail for injuring the prince with a yoga session? Oh God, what if I’ve prevented him from fathering children in the future. I shake my head to dispel the thought. I’m starting to lose it now. I’ve had clients injure themselves in classes before, but nothing like this.

“I wouldn’t have listened to you even if you had told me to stop.”

“You are so damn stubborn. You could have seriously hurt yourself. That is one thing you learn from yoga—listen to your body and only do what it allows. If you were trying to act the big man, then it was idiotic. I should ban you from ever doing yoga again. In fact, I think I will. Annoying man,” I huff at Dalton. He tries to move, but shooting pain must go through him again, and he groans in discomfort.

“Elodie, I’m surrounded by people who listen to my body and tell me what to do so I don’t have to. My life has been mapped out for me since the second I was born. I was never given a choice in the faith I was baptized into, the schooling and subjects I studied, and when I was old enough, I was automatically enrolled in the army. Even now, I have no say in the friends I can have or the meals I eat. I’m even told what I need to wear each day. It’s probably why I’ve been rebelling recently. I don’t get a choice in anything I do. I’ve switched off thinking for myself. Why should I be bothered? That’s what the people around me are there for. When I was in your yoga session, my body was still working, and it was still getting into the correct positions. I didn’t register the pain as a danger sign so I didn’t stop…no one told me to.”

“I told you to stop.”

My heart is breaking at Dalton’s words. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. To have no choice in life is the worst thing. I had none in my parents’ death—losing them was out of my control, but the choices I’ve made since that day have all been mine. Many would think being part of a royal family would be a fantastic position to be in, but it seems it’s more of a curse, according to Dalton.

“But you aren’t someone who’s employed to tell me what to do.” Dalton pulls his hand away from mine—I hadn’t realized we still had them joined. He turns onto his other side with a strangled sigh of agony.

“I can’t believe what you’re telling me. That’s not a life you have, it’s a duty. It’s nothing like yoga, which is freeing and about finding yourself. By helping you listen to your inner voice, yoga guides you to be a better person. Rebelling against the rules and ignoring what your body is telling you is no way to live, Dalton…Your Highness. It will make you sad and lonely, and those emotions will be passed on to your country and make you a poor king.”

“Then I’ll fit right in with the rest of my ancestors.” Dalton doesn’t even look at me as he responds.

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