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“Forgive me. I let myself inside and your maid told me where to find you.”
I bolted to my feet, putting myself between my parents and this stranger.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying not to sound too rude, but all the same deeply frustrated that this stranger was here, looking so kind and warm when I felt like the world was made of nothing but ice and sadness.
“My name is Dr. Lucian, Dr. Drago Lucian. And I have been sent here to help your father, as well as your mother. It is fortunate that I was in the vicinity. A week ago, I would have been on the other side of the continent.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar to me, in the fleeting and unclear way that famous names sometimes do.
“Who sent you?”
He came inside the room each step carefully placed, unrushed but with an urgency.
“I’ve been sent…” he said trailing off. “Does that matter, Your Grace?”
This man had no notion of the day I had experienced. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever trust anybody again, and I certainly was in no fit state to be trusting a stranger.
“It certainly does matter,” I said, folding my hands in a firm grip at my waist. “Someone tried to kill my father today, so you’ll forgive me if I’m unwilling to let you…”
“Mr. Greengallow sent me,” he said, slightly unwillingly, as if it was a secret he’d been warned not to share. “To attend to both your father and your mother.”
“Which Mr. Greengallow?” I asked.
The doctor blinked once, then again. Clearly, he’d been told not to disclose that part, but there was no way I was letting him in this room without knowing that.
“Vasile Greengallow,” he said finally.
The nerve of that man. I clenched my teeth and eyed the kindly doctor angrily. My first reaction was to tell him to go, to get the hell out of our house. But just as I was forming the words to do so, I heard my father’s breathing become wheezy and labored behind me. I spun around. My mother looked to me pleadingly, clutching my father’s hand.
Whatever anger I’d mustered dissolved at once. A drop of blood in the ocean. My father needed help and I would accept it from anyone. Even Vasile.
“Alright,” I said, stepping aside to make room for the doctor. “Thank you,” I added softly as he passed by me on his way to my father’s beside.
“Of course, Your Grace.” He bowed politely and then looked me in the eye. But rather than go straight to my father, he looked at me with concern. Looking from one of my eyes to the other, he asked, “Are you feeling well yourself, Your Grace?”
I tried to wave him off, lifting my hands and shaking my head. The truth was that I felt awful, but that hadn’t seemed like any surprise. I was deliriously tired and felt shaky all over.
“It’s nothing. It’s just been a terrible day.”
The doctor seemed unconvinced. “May I?” he asked, reaching out for my wrist.
Caught off guard by this sudden attention, I nodded and allowed him to take my pulse. His fingertips on my wrist felt surprisingly cold against my skin. His concerned expression grew even more so as he removed his stopwatch from his pocket. Releasing my wrist, he looked carefully into my eyes, gently pulling down my lower lids with the pad of his thumb.
Finally, he placed the back of his hand to my forehead. His eyes flashed with concern, though he did a valiant job trying to hide it.
“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”
I had no idea. Before my father was mortally wounded, before I lost the love of my life. Before, before, before…
“I can’t remember,” I said.
“Hmmm. It’s probably nothing, but best to be safe.” The doctor glanced away from me at my mother’s handmaid. “Could you please make sure she eats something?” he said to the maid. “Anything at all. And water. She needs plenty of water. I’ll be along as soon as I’ve finished here and I’ll run some more tests. If her condition turns, please come find me immediately.”
With a curt nod, my mother’s attendant then looped her arm through mine. I returned the gesture, feeling grateful for her solid, confident presence.
“Please, Your Grace. Leave your father and mother to me. They are in good hands. And you go rest. I’ll come check on you shortly.”
The thought of leaving that room made me freeze. Would this be the last time I ever saw my father again? Would he survive the night? And my mother? Could she bear that loss without me by her side?
“I don’t want to leave them,” I told the doctor.
“I know,” he said, taking my hand in a warm, firm grip. “But please. I promise I will do all I can for them both.”
