She shook her head. “Thank you, Kyra, but I’m having a moment with him now, and it’s all the better for you being here, too. I don’t need any privacy to pray for him.”
“Neither do I,” I admitted softly.
For the next few minutes, both the monarch of Great Britain and I stood in the early morning dim light, both of us lifting up pleas for mercy and healing for this man whom we both loved so very much.
Although the Palace had tried very hard to keep the extent of Nicky’s injuries out of the news, that was an impossible task. Too many people had known that he had been in attendance at the meeting where the bomb had gone off; too many people were already talking about the tragic explosion that had taken seven lives and left countless others injured. Rumors that Nicky was badly hurt began to circulate, with a few suggesting that he’d died but that the Palace couldn’t release that news until the perpetrators had been found and arrested.
In the face of such misinformation, Buckingham Palace made a formal statement on Monday afternoon, a short few sentences that admitted Prince Nicholas had been injured but was receiving excellent care at the hospital and would be home within days. I felt that this might have been tempting fate by claiming something that was patently untrue. Yes, Nicky had been injured and was receiving the best care in the world, but I thought it very doubtful that he’d be out of the hospital in the following week, let alone days.
He hadn’t awakened yet, and that was troubling all of us. The cuts on his face and arms were beginning to slowly heal, and the bruises that I’d seen on his torso and legs were changing colors. The doctors had assured us that, miraculously, there were no internal injuries, and that was indeed wonderful, but we also knew that the longer he remained in a coma, the worse the outcome could be. He was still unconscious as his brain healed. He was still on the ventilator, which was helping him to breathe. He was still attached to a scary amount of tubes and wires.
Someone on the Palace staff had kindly informed my family back in the states about what was going on. My parents, my grandmother and my sisters had all been assured that I was fine and safe and that Nicky was doing as well as could be expected, all things considered. Of course, they’d seen the media coverage and worried about both of us.
My mother had called, offering to fly over to be with me, offering to send Honey or my sisters over ... anything I needed. I wanted to say yes, please. I wanted the security of leaning on my mom, of letting her take care of me, but I also knew that there was nothing they could really do at this point. I’d assured her that if and when I needed my family to come to me, I’d let them know. I knew it must have been excruciating for her to hear that, but for now, she agreed that waiting was for the best.
The truth was that I didn’t have enough emotional energy to deal with other people trying to help me. My focus had to be wholly on Nicky. I wouldn’t allow anything else.
I did notice, though, that of all my family and closest friends who were in the loop about Nicky’s condition, only Shelby hadn’t reached out. She hadn’t responded to the message I’d left her or to the text I’d sent. It hurt a little, that my best friend outside of my husband and sisters wasn’t responding, but I couldn’t think about it now. I’d examine what was going on with Shelby later. After Nicky recovered. Once he was home, with me. I clung to that thought like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood.
On Tuesday morning, while I was in the waiting room during the doctors’ examination and consultation time, the screen on my phone, which I’d been keeping charged at the outlet close to Nicky’s bed, lit up with a familiar name and number. I was suddenly homesick for my dear friend Sophie, who had been such a valuable ally and supporter in her role as my press liaison leading up to our wedding day. I wished she was here with me, now, in this room, helping me to get through this trial; Sophie was one of those rare souls who would’ve known instinctively what I needed even before I asked.
Instead, Sophie and her soon-to-be husband Garrett Smith were living in Canada for the time being. Garrett was working for a newspaper there, and Sophie was continuing to do her job in the press department of Honey Bee Juices—just from a distance for now.
When I answered the phone, I heard the worry in my friend’s tone. “Kyra—oh, sorry, Your Royal Highness, howareyou? Garrett and I have been so worried since we heard the news. What can we do to help?”
I sighed. “Nothing, except pray for Nicky and send good positive vibes his way. He needs them all.”
“Do you want me to fly over there?” Sophie’s immediate response and offer went a little further to remind me that I wasn’t alone. My family and my friends were with me, even if it was only in spirit at the moment.
“Thank you. I love you for offering that, but no. For now, you stay where you are and love that man of yours. You two have a wedding to plan, for heaven’s sake. You can’t be flittering off hither and yon.”
Sophie chuckled. “One, I’ll remind you that I lived through your wedding planning with you, and that was plenty of bridal delight for one lifetime, thanks very much. We’re keeping things super simple. Two, the wedding in question is taking place in London, where you are. So it wouldn’t be a hardship to fly over.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. “Kyra, you know that nearly every good thing I have in my life now came via my association with you. Garrett ... my job at Honey Bee ... I could never begin to thank you. So trust me when I say that if you need me, I’m there. No questions asked.”
Sobs gathered at the back of my throat, but I swallowed them down as I had every threatening tear over the past days. “Thank you, Sophie. Truly, that means an enormous amount to me, and I feel very much the same way—you were my anchor amidst a sea of palace craziness, and I’ll never forget that.”
We were both quiet for a moment, emotion heavy on our hearts, before I cleared my throat and asked the question I’d been hesitating to pose. “I haven’t looked at any headlines or social media since last week. I know the Palace issued a statement about Nicky being hurt, but ... what is everyone saying?”
She was silent for a moment. “After a day of panic during which there was so much speculation about what was really going on—and I think that’s what pushed the statement—there’s been nothing but support and love for you both. I’ve read several articles praising the Duchess—that’s you—for refusing to leave her husband’s hospital room. I assumed that part was actually accurate.”
“It is.” I didn’t need praise for it. Staying close to Nicky wasn’t a choice as much as it was a necessity, like breathing.
“There is something I’m not sure if I should mention.” Sophie made a small sound of frustration. “Which, of course, now I must explain, because I just did bring it up.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. “Go ahead. Lay it on me.”
“Garrett’s still in touch with some of his old colleagues from his brief foray into covering the royals, you know. And there’s some scuttlebutt among them, apparently. Someone—not from the press, but a private individual—is trying to sell photos of you from a house party. This person claims that the pictures are from this past weekend and that they show you dancing intimately with a man not your husband. And he says that this happened around the same time the bomb was going off and Nicky was injured.”
“Oh, holy shit.” I groaned the words, impatience and frustration rising up in me. “That’s complete crap, Sophie. I know exactly what these pictures are, and they’re not medancing intimately with a man not my husband.” I rubbed the back of my neck where a headache was blossoming. “I was being harassed by a guy at this party—where I was with Princess Daisy, by the way—and my security officer, Simon, rescued me from the situation by inviting me to dance. He didn’t hold me intimately. It was very proper and aboveboard.”
“Simon? Where was Harold?” I’d forgotten that Sophie had known Harold nearly as well as I did, having worked with him during her tenure at the palace.
“He’s away for training, but he’ll be back. Simon is taking his place until he’s finished. He’s a very nice man, but trust me when I say that absolutely nothing is going on. He was doing his job, protecting me.”
“Hmmm.” Sophie’s answering sigh was weighted. “If these photos come out, someone may have to explain all of that. Apparently, in addition to the dance, there are also some pictures of you and the unnamed man leaving the dance floor and slipping off into the shadows.”
“Of course, there are.” I gritted my teeth. “I can’t go into details, Sophie, but that was part of Simon removing me from a potentially dangerous situation. Moments after we left the dance floor, we were informed about Nicky’s—about what happened at the meeting.” I shuddered and drew in a deep breath. “While I appreciate you letting me know about this—and I’ll drop a word in the right ears, believe me—right now, I can’t worry about stupid pictures and how people might interpret them. I have to focus all of my energy on helping Nicky to recover.”
“Yes, of course you do.” She sounded contrite. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
