The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 58-A Tough Vigil

 Luke lay on the bed, his face ashen, his chest bound with cloth which was slowly staining with blood seeping from the wound. His eyes were closed and his face expressionless.

"What do you think, doctor?" Victor asked the man who was feeling his pulse.

Beside him, stood Zena, tears streaming down her cheeks, Nan wringing her hands, and Dave with a solemn face.

The doctor shook his head regretfully, rising from his bedside.

"I have done all that I could do. There is nothing more to be done. We can all proceed to pray that our prince is restored to us," he said, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.

A sob escaped Zena, and she sank down beside him, picking up his hand which lay almost lifeless against the sheet, and placing a soft kiss on his palm.

"Luke," she whispered near his ear. "Wake up, please. We're waiting for you. Please, come back to me. I love you, Luke."

Nan stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Get up, child. Go and rest in your room. You're still weak. I shall keep watch here and pray for my boy."

"Nan is right, Zena," Victor seconded the old woman. "We're here to see to Luke. Go and rest."

Zena turned on them with a tearful face.

"How do you expect me to leave him in this condition, not knowing whether he'll make it through the night or not? All of you may leave. I'll sit with my husband till he opens his eyes," she said firmly, a look of determination on her face.

"But...." Victor started, but she cut him off.

"No, Father. I can't sleep knowing that Luke is lying here unconscious. Let me stay here for my own peace of mind."

Nan saw the earnestness in her eyes. Zena would not leave her husband and retire to her room.

"Let her stay, Lord Martin. I'll keep an eye on her," she reassured him.

Both men nodded.

"Let us go to the chapel and pray, my lord," Dave suggested to Victor, and they left.

Once again, Zena sank down by the side of her husband, holding his cold hand in her warm ones, and rubbing them gently, hoping that somehow he would feel that touch and know that she was there for him.

Earlier that day, when she had been brought to the palace by her father, she had been unconscious. The shock of the attack, coming so close after her realization of her love for Luke, and seeing the tenderness in his eyes for herself, had made her swoon.

Later, she came to know that her father had rushed her to the palace, fearing another attack, this time on her. They had been ambushed on the way, and he had fought the assailants to bring her safely back. He had been badly wounded in the process, but he had been uncaring of his hurt and pain, calling for the doctor to attend to his daughter, instead.

She had regained consciousness while the doctor was checking on her, trying to sit up and calling for Luke.

"Calm down, Zena. Word has reached us that Dave is bringing him back shortly. Try to sleep, dear child. You have suffered a shock," he had said in an effort to put her at ease.

A short time later, Luke was brought and carried to his room bleeding profusely. She had run after him, only to be told to wait outside while the doctor attended to him. He had suffered a deep wound on his chest, the dagger missing his heart by mere inches, and had lost a lot of blood. The doctor applied an unguent to the wound after cleaning it and then bound it in clean cloths. Though the bleeding had reduced, some blood was still seeping from the wound. The doctor had told her that it would stop in some time, but they could only rest easy when he opened his eyes.

Now, Zena waited, keeping vigil beside him, her lips moving in a silent prayer, while tears continued to tumble down her cheeks. Her mind buzzed with unanswered questions. Who could have attacked Luke? She had seen herself, how much the people loved him. Then who....

Was it Lord Wilfred, who had framed her father? In all probability, it could be him or the Valerians. Zena wished that they could catch whoever it was. But first, and with all her heart, she wished for Luke to open his eyes.

Victor rose to his feet from where he had been kneeling in the chapel. Dave followed after him, and the two men slowly made their way out of there.

"Did you find who was behind it?" Victor asked his companion.

"No, they took advantage of the crowd to escape, but my men are behind them. I expect to hear from them soon."

"Whom do you suspect, Lord Dave?"

"My guess is that Wilfred has something to do with it, but he couldn't have pulled something like that alone."

"Hmm....I think that he must have sought help from Valeria. The men who attacked us on the way back certainly looked from there. They weren't from Zorbia."

"Are you sure, my lord?"

"Pretty sure. Their accent, as they called out to each other, was purely Valerian."

"That scoundrel Wilfred! Imagine plotting with the enemy to attack Prince Lucas. How low can you sink!"

"He is a threat to the throne as long as he is at large. He should rot in the dungeons or hang from a pole in the marketplace," Victor said with vehemence, his anger rising at the thought of Wilfred's black deeds.

"Let's go and see if there's any improvement in his majesty's condition," suggested Dave.

Victor nodded, and they strode through the silent corridors of the palace towards Luke's chamber. Victor was worried about Zena. She was still not well enough for the tough vigil she was keeping by Luke's bedside. With a sigh, he ran a tired hand through his hair. His wounds were throbbing with a dull ache, and he was anxious lest an infection set in.

"You go ahead, Dave. I'll have to see the doctor for these wounds. I could do with a potion to relieve the pain."

With that, Victor left to see the doctor, but that wasn't all he was going to do. He feared for the life of Zena's unborn child and so he had sent a couple of his own men to look for Wilfred. He wouldn't rest easy until they got their hands on him.

Zena woke up with a start as she heard a slight groan issue from Luke's lips. She had nodded, too tired to keep her eyes open at this time of the night. It was almost the midnight hour, and the palace was silent. Not a soul stirred, save the guards who patrolled the grounds.

Had she heard correctly or was she getting fanciful? She cast a searching glance at the unconscious man. A few candles were still burning in their holders, throwing enough light to see his pallor. He was lying perfectly still, his breathing hardly discernible.

It must have been a mistake, she mused, her heart sinking at the thought. Would Luke never wake up?