Page 18 of Consume Me

“Yes,” I said slowly. “I was Clara Bishop. Now I’m the Queen.”

“The queen?” Her eyebrows shot up before she began to laugh. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

Why was she acting like this? Why was she pretending I wasn’t who I said I was? She had to know. I hadn’t wound up here accidentally. The world began to spin around me—or was I the crazy one? What if I was right? What if none of this was real? What if nothing I believed was true? I stumbled a step, my hand closing over my stomach. The baby kicked and instantly I felt anchored. There was my proof. Alexander’s child grew inside me. We’d made this baby with our love—love that was the a living, breathing passion. I felt it now. Even separated, I was always with him. It was his heart in my chest. It was his strength that kept me from falling.

Someone wanted to play a game. I suspected it wasn’t June. She wasn’t lying. She believed every word she said. But if she knew the truth—if she could be convinced—would she help me?

“It’s true. Someone took me,” I told her in a rush, clutching her arm. “You have to help me. You can’t let them hurt me or my baby.”

“No one is going to hurt your baby,” she reassured me, dismissing me like I was a hysterical woman. “The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

A little bit of my hope died. If she wouldn’t help me—if all these people would stand by and treat me like I was a raving lunatic—what could I do?

She pried my fingers free, backing up a few steps and I saw it. Fear. Not of what I said. Of me. I’d scared her. She wouldn’t be my ally. Whatever they’d told her about me, she’d believed it. I didn’t know if I was a criminal or a lunatic in her eyes, but I couldn’t be trusted. As the door shut behind her, I went to it half-heartedly. Locked. I had to be sure. I managed to make it back to the bed before my legs gave out.

Dread broke over me in cold waves. I’d faced death before. I thought I was prepared to face it again, but this wasn’t simply about me. I loved my child. I would do anything to protect him, even give my own life. But the baby didn’t stand a chance here. They knew about his heart condition and they’d taken me anyway. Why go to the trouble of pretending to care if he lived or died?

And then it hit me. This wasn’t about me. It was about the baby. It had to be. Who would take the child of a king? This wasn’t the work of a mad man. I knew what that looked like—chaos and blood and death. I’d seen it spread crimson on the tiles of Westminster Abbey. It was violence and insanity. It was missing the mark but hitting another.

This? It was precise and planned. It reached it into my life and pulled strings until we’d taken our proper places. This was the work of something else: hatred or greed or power.

Maybe the doctor would be willing to talk. He had my chart. He had to know the truth. When the door finally opened, I was glad I didn’t have anything in my stomach or I would have thrown up.

Because the doctor did know the truth. He’d known for some time, but did I?

“Clara,” Doctor Rolland greeted me. He looked as though he’d just strolled in to my doctor’s office rather than some secret torture clinic. “How are you feeling?”

He strolled into the exam room, checking the file he’d carried inside. I’d trusted this man. He was the one who had confirmed the baby’s diagnosis. He’d acted concerned. He had advised me to tell Alexander the truth. To what end?

“How can you ask me that?” I spat back at him. How could he stand there and casually thumb through my paperwork? “What is this? Are you a part of this?”

“I’m a contractor. I don’t ask questions, especially ones with answers I might not like. I understand this must be difficult for you,” he said, “but I am a physician and I adhere to the Hippocratic oath like everyone else in my profession.”

I doubted that very much. “Then you’ll tell my husband where I am. You’ll tell him that I’ve been taken.”

“My patient is the baby,” Rolland stopped me. “I’m here to oversee his safe delivery.”

“His?” I repeated weakly.

“It’s a boy.” Rolland nodded, stealing the joy of knowing I’d been right. “I realize you wanted to keep it a surprise, but you may as well find out now.”

“What are they going to do to the baby?” I asked softly.

“He’ll be well-cared for, I promise. But there are issues that could complicate his birth. Your tests show elevated protein in your urine. The nurses will be monitoring your blood pressure for signs of pre-eclampsia.” He took a seat on a nearby stool and abandoned the chart to finally look at me. His forehead was creased and worn, his eyes gentle—he was either doing a remarkable job of playing the concerned doctor or he truly was. I wasn’t entirely sure if it mattered which was the truth.

“What does that mean?” If he was here to care for the baby that was all that really mattered. I would focus on that even if what I really wanted was to find the nearest sharp object and stab him in the throat.

This was as close to an ally as I would find here. I allowed the realization to slowly sink in. So long as I was pregnant, we would both be safe and cared for, but after?

“Pre-eclampsia can happen later in pregnancy, particularly high risk pregnancies. We’ll need to monitor your blood pressure and watch for other signs. For instance, if your ring starts to feel tight or you begin to notice swelling.” He pointed to my wedding band and I covered it with my hand.

It was still mine. It was proof that I was who I said I was. I’d forgotten it earlier. Now it stood for more than my marriage vows. It stood between life and death. I twisted it nervously around my finger. Was it tighter than it had been a few days ago? “And if this gets worse?”

“It simply means it could be time for you to have the baby.” He delivered this bombshell like a bouquet of flowers.

My mouth fell open as a dozen reasons why I couldn’t have the baby swam in my overrun brain. “I still have four weeks.”

We were safe as long as I was pregnant. I could protect the him. And I couldn’t have him without Alexander by my side. He needed time. I knew he was looking to find me—to find us. By now, Georgia and Smith and everyone would be tracking us down. I needed time, and now it felt like I was on the clock.