Page 134 of Tarnished Queen

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I try to sit up, but a strong arm around my chest forces me back into the thin mattress. I claw at it, a scream rising in my throat. But it isn’t an arm; it’s a strap. I’m pinned to a bed.

“You’re okay, Belle.”

Nikolai’s voice is close and familiar, but there’s no comfort there. Not after the dream I just had.

I try to turn towards him, but my neck is locked in place. “You have a neck brace on,” he explains from just out of sight when I try to thrash against the restraint. “It’s a precaution. You kept throwing yourself around in your sleep, so they strapped you down so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Where are you?” My voice is little more than a rasp, but Nikolai hears me. He gets up out of the armchair he was sitting in and stands next to my bed where I can see him.

He isn’t shirtless or sweaty like he was in my dream, but his facial features are all exactly where they should be. I guess that’s a good thing, more or less.

“What happened?”

“You hurled yourself down a flight of stairs.” He looks down at the floor. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and I wonder if there’s room in there for me to hide. Because I want to be anywhere except for right here. “You could have killed yourself.”

“I thought it was a closet.”

His eyes snap to mine. “What?”

“I didn’t know there were stairs there.” The memory of falling through empty air rushes over me. I feel nauseous.

All at once, I jerk against the strap again. It cuts into my chest, and I can only whimper.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls. “Stop—”

“The baby.”

His lips press together. I want to pry them open. I want to make him talk.

“Nikolai,” I whisper, “is the baby okay?”

“You’ve been through the ringer tonight. You need to relax. The doctor wants you to rest.”

I reach around my side and unhook the strap from the side of the hospital bed. My body is sore as I sit up, but I feel okay. I’ll be covered in bruises, but I’ll survive.

Now, I want to know if my baby will.

I swing my leg over the side of the bed, but Nikolai grabs my ankle. “Belle, no.”

“Don’t touch me.” I try to kick his hand away, but he dodges and then moves up to press my shoulders back into the mattress.

“Lie down.”

Only a few hours ago, I would have grabbed his arms and pulled them around myself. I would have sunk into his touch and lost myself there.

Now, his hands on me are hollow comfort.

“I’m fine,” I snap, shoving him away. “If the doctor gets mad, I’ll tell them standing up was my idea.”

“I don’t give a fuck whose fault the doctor thinks it was.”

“Then why do you care?”

We stare at each other, our last conversation ringing in the silence between us. He doesn’t care. That has been well-established.

“No, I know,” I blurt, talking before he can. “It’s because I’m pregnant. That’s why you care. Isn’t it? The only reason. You just don’t want anything happening to the baby.”

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