Chapter 20
He lay as still as possible the moment he saw David walk into his room that morning. He’d contemplated over the last several weeks whether he wanted to ask Bea to tell the others that he could talk and move some, but he had no idea WHY he was finally able to do so. Could his inability to move be caused by something other than the accident.
He wondered only briefly if it was because of Bea but he wouldn’t let himself humor that thought. Obviously, she had SOMETHING to do with it, but it was his own will that allowed him to talk like he was able to do now.
He’d spent hours repeating stupid lines that he’d learned from his tutors. One specific blurb had fueled his efforts and allowed him to keep moving forward.
He repeated it now in his mind as David set down the serving try and pulled something out of his jacket pocket.
Success requires dedication. Success demands perseverance. Success rewards determination. Over and over he repeated it to himself. It got him as far as it had,
and he held onto it like a Mantra
He couldn’t control his heart as it sped up the closer David got. He also couldn’t see what he was holding because if he moved his eyes to look, David would
see.
He finally came into view and Dax saw that it was a small sharp blade. Dax could feel nausea as it rose from the build–up of nerves and anxiety.
“We hear her talking in here.” He was now at the side of the bed and was leaning over Dax. “The doormen say she talked non–stop for about a week and then there was nothing.” Slowly he pulled the blanket and sheet down, before pulling on Dax’s arm as he positioned it awkwardly.
“And then yesterday, they told me that she’s talking again. And although they aren’t sure, they thiiiink-” He sliced the buttons away from the sleeve cuff and pulled it up. “That she’s responding. But how can that be? Unless you’re awake, of course.” He pressed the cold blade to the side of Dax’s forearm, bringing a swell of blood to the surface. “Ah, see!” He said as if he caught a thief in action.
The pain from the cut sliced through him and he had to give everything inside of him to lay still and motionless.
Could he overpower the Steward? If he yelled, would the doormen come in? If they did, would they be on his side? His head hurt and his breathing had turned shallow as he fought to stay still.
Then the door to his room opened and he heard the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his whole life. Bea’s voice.
“Get away from him, this moment!”
In surprise, David pulled back and faced Bea, the blade conveniently hidden in his hands behind his back. “Oh!” The word left his mouth is disdain. “If it isn’t the Princess. How can I help you this morning? You’re a bit early.” Dax couldn’t see him now, but it sounded like David may be sweating. “I thought I might feed the Prince his breakfast and medicine.”
“You’re not needed. I thought I made that clear before.” She was still standing at the door before she swiftly turned and spoke with the doormen. Then she began walking back into the room and up to the foot of Dax’s bed.
“Of course I’m needed! Look at his blood! If you were administering his medicine as instructed, his blood wouldn’t swell this fast. You’re missing doses.”
She gasped when she looked down. Hurriedly, she placed her serving tray down beside the one David had brought in, before running over to Dax with napkins and pressed hard on the cut, to clot the bleeding wound.
As she was leaning over the wound, she felt the coldness of metal as it pressed against her arm before hearing David’s raspy voice, “I can show you. Just a small cut.” He pressed the blade harder and small bead of blood swelled out. So shocked at his audacity, she could only stare at the small cut he’d given her as he continued talking.
‘See. Your blood flows quick top. I wonder how fast it would flow if just a bit more pressure was given. Can you take the extra pressure?”
“Steward.” Her eyes blazed and she swiped the blood away, the light wound already clotting.
