Luke took the cup of vile medicine and drank it in one go. He grimaced and coughed, making a face in disgust.
"Are you trying to kill me, man?" he snapped at Dave, who gestured to the doctor to leave.
"On the contrary," Dave smiled.
The prince was slowly regaining his strength. He knew that they had Zena to thank for that. She had toiled alongside the doctor, to save Luke's life. He still shuddered to recall the day of the attack. They had all but given up hope to see Luke alive. He had a few leads about the assailants, but he would wait to discuss about that with Luke. He still wasn't well enough.
"Where is she?" Luke asked, his voice still hoarse from the coughing fit.
"Who?" Dave said innocently, knowing full well who he meant.
"My wife, who else? I wish to see her," Luke was getting impatient. He had faint memories of Zena by his side, holding his hand and whispering that she loved him. Was that just a dream, or had she really been there, professing her love for him? He had no way of knowing except to ask her outright, but his heart quaked at the prospect. What if it was all in his befuddled brain and he made a fool of himself like an eager lovesick boy? Which he was, by the way. Oh, not a boy, but quite lovesick. He yearned to see Zena. She had been there for a brief moment when he opened his eyes, then had been shooed away by Nan. Where was she, and how had she fared after the attack? He had so many questions to which he needed the answers to, but Dave and Nan, between themselves, treated him as if he had gone soft in the head.
Dave shook his head, tight-lipped.
"The princess is resting, Your Majesty. Nan is seeing to her." Dave turned away slightly to wipe a tear from his eye. He could hardly tell Luke that the tough vigil she had kept by his side had taken a toll on her health and she was poorly. The doctor was anxious for the princess and her baby. Nan was frantic with worry.
"Take me to her," Luke ordered, trying to rise from the bed, and almost falling in the process.
"Be careful!" Dave exclaimed in alarm, rushing to grab his hand and support him. The servants who had been waiting outside the door ran to help too.
"Have a care, your majesty. You're still weak from the blood loss." Dave chided gently, hoping that his head would not be chopped off for his pain. Of course, he knew Luke wasn't some whimsical despot. Dave had known him since they were wee lads, and Luke considered him a friend. Nay, a brother, rather.
Luke sank back on the bed, panting from the effort. It would have to wait for another day, his meeting with Zena. Till then, he would have to live with the uncertainty. His heart sank at the thought. What use his crown or the riches, if he could not have Zena's love?
Luke watched Dave depart, and heaved a deep sigh, his thoughts going back to the time he had laid eyes on Zena for the first time. How breathtaking and innocent she had looked, like a wildflower wilting under the snow. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the beauty lying in front of him. He had picked her up in his arms, feeling his heart race at the nearness to the slender form of the young woman. It hadn't taken him long to lose his heart to her. Her spectacular eyes had hypnotized him. Mad with longing for her, he had carried her to the cottage in the woods and made sweet love, feeling as if it was his first time. All other lovers had faded in comparison. He had decided to ask for her hand in marriage, but before he could do that, had come the news that she was Martin's daughter.
Luke cursed the day he had found that out. What madness had spurred him to wreak his revenge on her? He knew that he deserved to burn in hell for his beastly behavior. He should have listened to his heart and not to the demons in his head. The demons of the past. The past was dead and over, while he and Zena were very much alive. He should, instead, have tried to build a happy life with her, not punish her for no fault of hers.
How wrong he had been about Lord Martin! The man had risked his life to save the heir to Zorbia. He was far from the traitor Luke had always suspected him to be. Even if he spent his life asking for forgiveness from Martin and Zena, it would be too little. Luke felt tears threaten his eyes, and wiped them away, repenting for his sins. Would Zena forgive him?
FIFTEEN DAYS LATER
The room was in semi-darkness. The candles burnt low, casting elongated shadows in the corners, making it look menacing in the depths of the night. A masked intruder lurked in the alcove, a gleaming dagger in his hand, as he watched the prince sleep. His even breathing showed that he was deep in slumber, unaware of the assassin waiting to carry out his deadly task. He ran a finger over the sharp edge of his weapon, drawing a thin line of blood, and chuckled silently in satisfaction. It was as ready as he was. Ready for Luke's blood. Ready to snuff out the bloodline of Zorbia. His information said that the princess was most likely to have a stillbirth. He chuckled again, his eyes gleaming with something akin to madness. He took a few steps forward, raised his hand, and aimed for the heart. Thus, poised for the kill, he was about to swoop down on his prey, when the door burst open and two men rushed inside, one of them carrying a burning taper.
"Wake up, your majesty. The princess has gone into premature labor," Dave wailed, shaking Luke, when he noticed the masked man hiding behind the ornate headboard of the bed.
"Martin," he called for his companion, who was a few paces behind.
Cornered, the assassin, fell on the two unarmed men with a bloodcurdling roar. The three men rolled on the floor, grappling.
"Aargh!" A loud groan broke out from Dave's lips as the dagger found his flesh. He rolled away, holding his bleeding side.
For a thin man, the assailant was surprisingly strong, his wiry body agile and honed. Victor fought the deadly attacker but found himself pinned beneath him. His dismayed gaze stared with morbid fascination at the dagger, as it poised above his heart.
Victor closed his eyes, waiting for death, his lips twisted in a painful prayer for deliverance when he felt the weight being lifted from him. A loud thud followed with a grunt. The masked man lay on the floor, his jaw broken and bleeding, while Luke stood with the dagger in his hand, his face crimson with fury.
Victor scrambled to his feet, apprehending the intruder, and tore away the mask from his face, then fell back in horror.
"Wilfred!" He and Luke exclaimed in unison.
The fracas, though just a minute long, had alerted the guards, who entered the bedchamber with drawn swords.
"Take him away, and throw him into the deepest dungeons. I'll deal with him later," Luke barked the command, turning to Martin, and Dave, who was swaying on his feet with the pain.
"Come, we must see to Zena," he threw behind his back, hurrying from the room.
"You go on, Dave. I'll join you in a moment," Victor said, eyeing Wilfred with disgust. What a sorry excuse for a man he was! To think that a lord of the realm would stoop so low!
"Take him away," Victor said to the guards, before spitting on Wilfred's face.
Zena let out a cry of pain as another contraction racked her body. Sweat poured from her forehead, soaking the pillow beneath.
"There, there. Take a deep breath, child," Nan advised, comforting the younger woman.
The midwife shouted for more hot water, and the maids ran to do the bidding.
Luke burst into the room, his eyes zeroing in on his beloved wife. Rushing to the bed, he knelt on the floor beside her, picked up her limp hand, and placed a soft kiss on it.
"Hang on, my love," he whispered in her ear, pushing a stray strand of golden hair back from her eyes.
Zena turned glazed eyes toward him.
"Luke," she croaked through cracked lips before another wave of pain hit her.