Page 153 of Hawthorne

“Have you seen my brother?” Some rustling accompanies his voice. “I haven’t seen him since your dance, and they’re not letting us go anywhere for now. I heard there was an attempt…What happened?”

A shiver runs through my spine, and something in my brain lights up, awakening me to the severity of the situation.

“Oh, Edgar,” my voice breaks as I finally break down.

The little whines quickly become full hiccups as my throat constricts and my nasal channels get obstructed. My face is burning, even through the coldness of the tears sliding down my cheeks.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” The silence stretches as I continue crying, unable to talk. “Let me see the queen,” he yells. Some more rustling. “Where are you? What are youdoing?” Some rustling is followed by Edgar’s grunts. “Let go of me!”

“S-stop,” I cry out.

“Let go of His Grace now!” Joshua’s voice sounds from the other side of the phone. He has reached Edgar,thankfully.“On a normal occasion, I wouldn’t let you out, but the queen trusts you completely. Your brother’s been hit. She’s at the hospital. Please meet her there.”

“What?” The line dies down, making me cry even harder.

A person comes out, wearing blue scrubs and crocs, and I stand up, heading to her.

She shakes her head negatively and says, “They have located the bullet. If it had been a bit more to the left, it would have hit the artery. He was lucky but still has lost a lot of blood. As they’re getting the bullet out now, it may take a while. I’ll come back soon with more news.”

I nod, deflated, and the nurse curtsies before heading back inside.

Time passes, and seconds turn into minutes. It may not feel like it, but in these situations, it slows down. Every ticking of the clock is a trigger, for a moment more of risk. Risk of losing him.

It’s torture.

“Camilla,” Edgar’s voice booms through the waiting room at the same time the double doors bang against the walls. “How is he?” He rushes to my side.

Upon seeing his dishevelled state, the tears come back, releasing a sob with them. He can’t die.He can’t.

Edgar hugs me tight in return, not forcing me to talk when I know he is worried sick about his big brother. We stay there for a while, finding a sliver of solace in each other's arms.

“Stable so far,” I choke out through sobs. “In surgery. That’s all I–”

“Where is he?”

A female voice shouts, and I tense.

“Fuck,” Edgar whispers.

“Where is my son?” she bellows.

One of the security guards looks at me expectantly...One order, and she can be out of here. But can I do that? It’s his mother. If it were my son, it would be an over-my-dead-body kind of situation.

I shake my head, and he stays put, letting her enter the same waiting room Edgar and I are in.

The woman has the nerve to scoff, “Of course, this had to be your bloody fault. Even after stealing everything from us, you weren’t satisfied. You had to go and get my son killed!”

“Mother,” Edgar grits. “Vincent’s alive.”

My cheeks are flaming hot now but not from crying, from rage.

“Thank god,” she exclaims, pacing around the room. “It should have been you!”

What?

“What?” Edgar’s body lets go of me and twists so fast I’m startled by the sudden move.

His mother freezes, it’s barely for a second, but I notice it quite well, and I can’t help the narrowing in my eyes at her reaction. However, she catches herself rather quickly, answering her son, “Wasn’t she the target? I saw on the news there was an attempt against her, then you called me saying he was hurt. Why did he have to save her?”

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