The Heir..Or Is She?

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It's a long, tense night waiting to hear how Mom is doing. Dad paces, frantic, clinging to General Leger. It's painful to see him so out of control with his worry.

Me? I sit in a daze, refusing all comfort or touch, rocking slightly forward and back. If I can get through tonight, if Mom survives, I will change. I have to.

A nurse brings out a tray and offers me a pill to calm my nerves, a sedative. I decline, but Kile's mom accepts, and so does Lucy. They soon huddle together in the corner, holding hands and murmuring prayers.

The boys of the selection have held up their silent vigil. I respect and admire them for it.

The problem is, I cannot be here with them and my family and everyone I know and love with the tremendous guilt bearing down on my soul. My shoulders literally slump, I couldn't straighten them if I tried.

The Selection in shambles, my fault. Ahren gone, my fault. Our kingdom hanging on by a thread because the country doesn't trust me, my fault. How can anyone bear to look at me?

A better question, how can I look at myself? I cringe thinking of how I preen in front of the mirror, wearing, for goodness sakes!, a tiara of all things! Like it matters! When my mom is fighting for her life and my brother leaves the country rather than be subjected to my cynicism.

Finally, three women in scrubs come out of the double doors and approach my father. Leger stays next to him, supporting him by the waist. Kaden approaches, but I know it is me who should be there on his other side. The future ruler of this monarchy, the soon-to-ascend queen. Yet, I can't do it.

People try to come over to me, but I hold up my hand and shut them out. Finally, when I realize they are waiting for me, I stand up, creaking like an old woman, and slump over to them. I cannot handle it if Mom is not okay.

Dad takes my hand. Kaden is on my other side, with May clinging to him. Osten, Kile, and some of the closer advisors are on the other. The Selection boys stay respectfully back.

The doctor steps forward, pulling off her mint green scrubs cap. She runs her fingers through her short ebony hair.

Tell us! I want to scream. I glare at the doctor, but she is meeting my dad's eyes, with a concerned, hopeful expression.

"She's stable."

The room seems to exhale in one collective sigh.

With a slight smile at my dad, the doctor continues. "I want to go over some details with you, but what the family needs to know is that, miraculously, the damage to the heart muscle was minimal. The attack was mild."

Osten smiles.

The doctor's lips pull down.

I hold my breath.

"But the arteries to the heart were significantly clogged. It's a genetic trait, made worse by stress. I only wish she'd come in sooner. Surely she had symptoms before now: headaches, pain in the chest and radiating to the arms, dizziness, trouble catching her breath..."

Dad grimaces.

I drown in guilt. I thought it was The Selection causing her stress. I never asked for details or even expressed much sympathy. I thought I had it rough, and here she was consoling me.

The doctor shakes her head slightly. "That's beside the point. We put in four stents, but avoided open heart surgery."

I gasp. Kaden leans into Kile. General Leger has to stand back against the wall.

"Yes, it was that serious. But as I said, no permanent damage to the heart. That is amazing, and testifies to her lifestyle and her immediately receiving care when we determined it was a cardiac event. Now, she will rest for several hours with King Maxon by her side. In the morning, you may see her one at a time, fifteen minutes each, one per hour. By evening she should be feeling well enough to move to her rooms, but she is not to be stressed or made to hostess visitors. Healing, excellent diet, and plenty of sleep are my dictates."

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