Against All Odds

Chapter Thirty-Three

Our weeks begin to pass quickly. Between our outings together in public where we are mobbed by angry onlookers and our days cooped inside our perfect piece of heaven within these gates, our time is fleeting. And each day that passes, I feel a burdening weight fall deeper onto my shoulders, keeping the secret I have.

I've had millions of opportunities to tell him but somehow, every time, something stopped me. Fear, I guess. Fear that everything will change. That our relationship will change when we're doing so well.

I'm staring into my soup, deep in my thoughts when I hear Henry say my name.

"Mia."

I look up, blinking into reality. Henry chuckles, awkwardly, across the table from me, holding the paper.

"Are you alright?"

I nod, smiling. "Yes, just tired."

"Do you need to lie down? You are looking very pale today."

I shake my head, grabbing my spoon. "I'm fine, really."

He holds up the paper after a moment, shaking his head. "My brother has really fucked this one up."

"His conservative views are only going to push the country further away from him."

He opens the paper, standing. He comes around the table to me, showing me the article. "Look at this. In this interview, his advisor said they're looking to bring back traditionalist customs, customs we've lost track of in this day and age. He's actually becoming regarded as a man who is discriminative against homosexuality."

"Is he against it?"

"Not that I know of. I fear it's the assembly he has around him. They're pushing him, they don't understand that pushing change is essential now, more than ever. And he's going to do what they say, since most of them worked with my grandmother."

"You look worried," I whisper, touching his hand.

Henry breathes in, straightening. "He is my brother. And being king is everything to him."

I squeeze his hand. "Why don't you call him?"

"What would me calling do?"

"You were his closest advisor when we were apart... he had to have a regard for your thoughts. Your words hold meaning for him. Even if you aren't there, you could still try to help him."

"He threw me from my own country," he says, looking down at me. I nod, slowly.

"You... do things with your heart, Henry. I know deep down you'll do what you think is right, as you always have."

...

I open my eyes, feeling Henry's hand against my forehead. His mouth is formed into a worrisome frown as he pulls back, but transforms warmly when he sees me waking.

"You're running a slight fever," he whispers, rubbing my leg. As much as I've tried, this cold hasn't faltered in strength. In fact, it's only getting worse. My nose is runny and red, my throat as rough as sandpaper. I've done everything I could, garnering all my strength so Henry wouldn't call a doctor. I told him it would raise suspicions, although the truth is a doctor would come here and out the news that I'm pregnant to Henry, which I'm avoiding at all costs.

I smile. "I'll be fine soon. The medicine will help."

"If the fever climbs any higher, I'm calling in a doctor, Mia. I don't care what you say." He sighs, clasping my hand. "I've brought some tea."

I groan, turning onto my side. "Not tea."

"Yes, tea. You're going to drink it... it will help." I keep my eyes closed, even when I hear his hands grab the china. "You can keep your eyes tight all you want but I'm not leaving until you take a sip."