None of us spoke for a long moment, and then the Duchess turned to her husband and buried her face in his shoulder as she wept. Alex pressed her fingers to her eyes, and Jake drew her closer to him. Daisy enveloped me in a tight hug.
“See? I told you he was going to be fine.”
I was shaking too much to answer her beyond a nod, and sensing that, Daisy held onto me, almost holding me up, until the medical staff emerged, their faces wreathed in smiles.
“Your Royal Highnesses, this is the best possible outcome we could’ve hoped for—or so it seems at the moment. We’ll run some more cognitive tests over the next few days, but initial results are beyond promising. The prince is as oriented as we could expect him to be at this point. Of course, he didn’t know exactly where he was, nor can he remember the ... incident that led to him being here. However, his memory prior to that seems to be intact, although you will be able to assure us about that more fully as you speak with him.”
“We can see him now?” The Duchess asked the question eagerly, almost hungrily.
“Certainly,” the doctor agreed. “Perhaps it would be best to go in a few at a time, and we’re going to ask you to limit your visits to no more than fifteen minutes, so as not to fatigue the prince. He still has a road of recovery ahead of him.”
“Mummy.” Daisy spoke up from next to me. “Kyra should go in first—alone. She needs to see him. And then the rest of us will have our turn.”
I opened my mouth to protest—not that I didn’t agree with Daisy, but I didn’t want to be the selfish wife—but my mother-in-law nodded in agreement.
“You’re absolutely right, darling. Kyra, go see him, and then just let us know when we can come in.”
I was beyond grateful for their kindness and generosity, but I couldn’t do anything more than nod as I swung around and went back into the hospital room. The nurse had drawn away the curtain again, and Nicky’s face was turned toward the window, staring outside. To my own ears, my footsteps were silent, but he must’ve heard something or sensed my presence, because his head rolled on the pillow until his eyes fastened on me.
For a long, long minute—practically an eternity in my heart—he simply stared at me, his lips in a straight line, his eyes steady but somehow neutral.
And then he smiled and held up his hand for me.
“Hi, Ky.”
I didn’t know how I got from the doorway to his bed, but suddenly I was there, laying across him, my head on his chest pressed close to the rhythmic beating of his heart, and all the tears I hadn’t cried in the last few days—in the past months—poured from my eyes, soaking the blankets and the sheets.
Nicky’s hand stroked my hair as he murmured wordless assurances. When I finally lifted my face to his, he traced the path of one tear with the tip of his finger, and in a voice still rough and hoarse from disuse, he spoke the words I had prayed to hear.
“Love you, sweetheart. Love you so.”
“YOURROYALHIGHNESS!SIR!HOWare you feeling?”
“Prince Nicholas, are you recovered from your injuries, sir?”
“Ky, have you been taking care of the prince? Are you happy that he’s coming home?”
“Sir, are there any updates on the people who planted the bomb? Any arrests forthcoming?”
Next to me, on the steps outside of Prince Edward VII’s Hospital, Nicky gripped my hand. He was still a little shaky, ten days after he’d been admitted to the hospital that bore the name of his great-great-grandfather, but then, I wasn’t exactly steady yet, either. The past week had been chock full of medical tests and treatments, and then once it had been determined that Nicky was stable enough to do so, the police had come in to interview him about the bombing. Officers from MI5 and Scotland Yard alike asked the same things over and over, and I could feel my husband’s frustration that he couldn’t answer most of what they wanted to know.
The day of the bombing remained a hazy memory for Nicky. He remembered everything with crystal clear clarity up until about midday Saturday, and then it was nothing but random images and emotions. The doctors had all assured us that this was normal; the brain protected itself from traumatic memories, and while he might eventually recall more details, it was also possible that he would never remember every detail.
But the best news in the world was that today we were going home. Although he’d been given the option of slipping out a back entrance into a waiting car, Nicky had opted to do this brief photo op, which the Palace had suggested was a good idea to reassure the public that he really was alive and on his way to being well.
As we clung to each other there on the steps, with the whirring of cameras and flashes of brightness all around us, I was reminded of the day we’d announced our engagement. Was it only just about a year ago? That day in the gardens at Kensington Palace felt as though it had taken place a lifetime past, and to two different people. So much had happened and changed since then.
Nicky hadn’t answered any of the myriad of questions that had been tossed at him by the reporters so far, and I too was remaining mum. This was his day, his show, and I was only here for support.
Finally, with a deep breath, he began to navigate the steps until we stood closer to the media pack. A microphone had been set up there at the bottom of the stairs, and Nicky cleared his throat before he spoke briefly.
“The Duchess and I want to thank all of you for your support, your prayers, and your messages of love during this very difficult time. I’m grateful to be going home now to continue my recovery. The staff here at Edward VII Hospital has been brilliant and supportive, and we’re thankful to the doctors, nurses and everyone who made it possible for me to be standing here today.”
Nicky turned slightly to bring me forward, his hand pressing against the middle of my back. “Most of all, I’m so grateful to my wife for her constant love and care. Kyra never left my side during this time, not even when ordered to by the Queen herself.”
A ripple of appreciative laughter rolled through the journalists, and it swelled louder when I rolled my eyes at my husband.
“I know you all have questions about what happened, how it happened, but I can’t speak to any of that at this time. The investigation is ongoing, and there are people much more intelligent and knowledgeable than I am who are handling it. I’m sure once they have answers, we’ll know more. Until then, I’d like to ask that if anyone has information that might be helpful to investigators to contact their local police. I’d also like to ask for your understanding and respect over the next months as I require a little extra rest and quiet time with my family.”
