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“Enemies?” James considered the question carefully, his brow furrowing in thought. “Not that I can think of. But then again, it doesn’t take much to make an enemy these days.”
“True,” Amanda conceded. “What about Christopher? You mentioned feeling uneasy about him earlier.”
“Christopher...” James mused, tapping his fingers on the table. “It’s possible. He’s always been ambitious. But would he go this far?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Amanda suggested, her eyes narrowing. “We need to dig deeper into his background, find out if he’s involved in this assassination attempt.”
“Sounds like a plan,” James agreed, lifting his cup in a mock toast. “To our very own cloak-and-dagger investigation.”
“Cheers,” Amanda responded with a grin, clinking her cup against his.
As they delved into their inquiry, the hours flew by in a flurry of whispered conversations and furtive glances at passersby. Bits and pieces of information slowly came together, painting an increasingly disturbing picture of Marquis Christopher’s potential involvement in the assassination plot.
“James,” Amanda said, her voice barely audible as she leaned in close. “I just found something that might change everything.”
“Tell me,” James urged, his eyes locked onto hers with unwavering intensity.
“There was a secret meeting last night, involving someone matching Christopher’s description,” she informed him, her hand gripping her coffee cup tightly. “And the topic of discussion? Plans for another assassination attempt.”
“Then it’s settled,” James declared, his jaw clenched in determination. “We confront Christopher, expose his treachery, and put an end to this once and for all.”
“Agreed,” Amanda nodded, steeling herself for the confrontation ahead. “But we have to be careful. If he’s behind this, he won’t hesitate to eliminate anyone who stands in his way.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure we’re one step ahead of him,” James replied.
“I’m going to talk to your new bodyguard and see what he knows.” She didn’t suggest just letting someone else handle it because she knew he needed a distraction from his father’s health concerns, though most of it would be handed off. There was no point in even trying to figure things out themselves.
Chapter Fourteen
James paced the length of his father’s study, anxiety gnawing at him. His hands clenched and unclenched as he awaited news about his father’s condition. The grandfather clock struck noon in its deep, resonant tone but went unnoticed by James. He could only focus on the muffled sound of footsteps outside the door, each one causing his heart to skip a beat.
“Father has to be all right,” he muttered to himself, weaving through the maze of bookshelves, “I know I can never fill his footsteps, but to have to try now? That would be a disaster for both me and my subjects.”
Suddenly, the door to the study swung open, revealing the royal physician with an unreadable expression. James immediately stopped pacing, his eyes wide with anticipation.
“Your Highness,” the physician began, bowing respectfully, “I have good news. King Albert has awakened from his induced coma. He’s asking for you.”
James’s heart soared with relief, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Thank heavens!” he exclaimed, barely containing his joy. “Can I see him right away?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” the physician replied, stepping aside to allow James to pass. “He is quite eager to see you. There’s a bit of damage to his throat after so long being intubated, but his hand motions told me what I needed to know. Don’t expect interpretive dance, but you can figure out what he means if you try.”
As James strode down the palace corridor, he couldn’t help but marvel at this newfound reprieve. His father was awake, and he wouldn’t have to assume the heavy mantle of kingship just yet. At least, not until he was better prepared to protect those he cared for and lead with confidence.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered to himself, his spirits lifted higher than they had been in days. “Father’s awake, and he wants to see me.”
The thought warmed his heart and sent a surge of affection through him. It was in moments like these that James truly appreciated the bond he shared with his father—a foundation built on love and trust.
“Let’s go, then,” James declared, his voice firm and resolute. With a quick glance at his bodyguard, they both began to run. The palace hallways were long, but James felt as though he was powered by the sheer force of his relief and gratitude. His dress shoes slapped against the polished marble floors, echoing throughout the expansive space.
“Your Highness, please slow down!” his bodyguard panted behind him, struggling to keep up with James’s frenzied pace. But James couldn’t—wouldn’t— stop. He needed to see his father, to share this respite from the looming responsibility of ruling.
They finally burst into the hospital wing, James skidding to a halt just outside his father’s room. He took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his forehead. Then, with a determined nod, he stepped inside.
“Father,” James said softly, approaching the bed where King Albert lay. His father looked frail, but there was an undeniable glimmer in his eyes that spoke of life. Tubes and wires snaked around him, connecting him to various machines, but one vital tube had been removed—the one that had been keeping him alive all these days.
King Albert motioned for James to come closer, and he moved his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.
“Father, I’m so thankful you’re awake,” James began, tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had to assume the throne right now.”
