Chapter 118

Nathan POV

“Did she answer, Dad? Did we get a letter back??”

Beside me, bouncing with excitement, Andy watched me as I reached my hand into our letter box.

Only to stop, disappointed, when my hand came out empty.

My own disappointment was also sharp. All day, I wondered what Claire thought of my letter, and what she might say in response.

It hadn’t occurred to me that she might not respond at all.

“It’s okay,” I assured Andy as we walked into the house.

“Your mom is a very busy person these days. She’s still working at the clinic, and also handling her father’s duties as well.”

“That’s a lot,” Andy said, taking off his backpack and dumping it on the floor. “She’s running a whole pack now!”

I picked up the backpack, hanging it on its hook. “That’s right. So it might take her a while to answer us.”

“But she will, right?”

I led him back to the kitchen for his after school snack.

“Of course she will,” I assured him.

Thinking of how open and honest I’d been in my letter, I could only try to offer myself the same assurances.

Claire would answer.

She had to.

Claire POV

I woke up the next morning feeling groggy.

Sleep had been difficult.

Again.

I’d been having more and more trouble sleeping.

The headaches and constant tension in my neck and shoulders made finding a comfortable position difficult.

And once I actually fell asleep…

That’s when the nightmares came.

And I woke up screaming.

More than once my assistant Megan or one of the servants rushed in, prepared to fend off an attacker.

Only to find me in bed, or struggling to throw off the covers, ready to run.

Screaming like I was being chased by monsters.

By morning these dreams were always jumbled, a blurred mix of images and a swirl of emotions.

All I could remember was feeling like I was lost, unable to find what, where or who I was looking for.

And that I was in grave danger.

I tried to laugh them off with the servants or Megan as just something caused by the stress of the previous months.

But they didn’t look convinced when I told them not to worry about it.

And I had to admit, I didn’t really believe everything was fine either.

I just didn’t know what to do about it.

So I put the subject to the side as best as I could, and went on about my day.

There were certainly more than enough things to do.

Running a pack, participating in the court proceedings and politics of the realm, while also running a clinic wasn’t easy.

I spent the morning in my father’s office at pack headquarters, answering letters and messages, and listening to reports and updates from around the territory.

Construction was continuing on schedule at the sites of the destroyed villages and towns along our borders. People would be back in their homes by winter, if everything stayed on track.

Talks were going well with the new allies I had gained during the rogue attacks, and we were in the process of negotiating several trade agreements. My diplomats all reported progress there.

By all accounts, the Royal pack was coming back from the awful events of the past few months.

And it was coming back better and stronger than ever.

It made me proud to hear how my pack was recovering after going through such a terrible ordeal.

But it also made me sad.

Because I wished my father was there to see it.

It should have been him sitting there, at his massive oak desk, or sitting on the receiving throne in the court room.

He should have been the one leading his people back from the edge of destruction.

I missed him more and more every day.

That evening, after a long day at the office, I traveled to the clinic.

Not to work. Not this time.

Just to see my father.

With Nathan’s letter tucked into my pocket, where it had been all day, I went to my father’s room on the top floor.

The sun was just setting, flooding the space with its strong rich light. A light that touched that painted the walls and shined through the petals of the flowers I had delivered every few days, and the leaves of the plants set among them.

Dad loved being outside. I had hopes that being surrounded by light and plants would soothe him.

Maybe even help heal him.

I certainly needed all the help I could get.

Day after day, week after week, my father’s condition remained unchanged.

His body was perfectly fine. In fact, he was in better shape than he had been when we met back at the Silverfang clinic.

It was his mind that was lost.

And while I didn’t think his coma had anything to do with the frenzy condition that had afflicted him so severely, I just didn’t know what else could be going on.

We had run test after test after test.

There was brain activity, deep in his subconscious, so we knew his mind was active.

Somewhere.

We just couldn’t figure out what it meant, and why he remained locked in this endless coma.

Squaring my shoulders, feeling the letter in my pocket and letting the love it contained give me strength, I placed my hands on either side of my father’s head.

And I tried, once more, to heal him.

Breathing deeply and evenly, I allowed myself to sink into his mind.

I learned from past attempts not to rush this stage, or push too hard.

Whatever block was in his mind, it was like it would sense my presence, and try to push me back out.

So I went slow, going deeper and deeper.

Down, through his sleeping consciousness, into the realm of his subconscious.

A much noisier place.

Or so I thought.

But it was like being on the other side of a wall. On one side was a room full of people, voices raised in conversation.

While I was stuck on the other side, in the dark, feeling around for the door.

And never finding it.

It was evening by the time I gave up, opening my eyes and swaying slightly.

The room had grown gloomy with the dusk, and only a single lamp turned on beside the bed.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted the silence in the room, and Dr. Baldwin stepped in.

“Hello, Princess,” he said quietly. “I heard you had stopped by.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

My pleasure at seeing him was mixed with relief as well.

As soon as I emerged from the healing trance I had sunk into, the tension and pain returned.

“Yes,” I said, gingerly sitting down in a chair. Every movement was difficult, and I felt a little dizzy as the headache rushed over me.

“I wanted to see Dad.”

“And tried to heal him again, I see,” Baldwin said, crossing the room and peering into my eyes.

“You went too deep, Princess. I can see the strain it puts on you. You shouldn’t do something like that alone.

“It could be very, very dangerous.”

I tried to smile, and assure him that I wasn’t fine.

But the lightning sharp stab of pain proved me wrong.

I was definitely not fine.

Then I felt Dr. Baldwin’s cool touch on my forehead, and another hand at the base of my neck.

The relief was instant.

“Thank you,” I said, my eyes closed as I enjoyed the sweet sensation of having absolutely zero pain. “That feels amazing.”

Then I opened my eyes and joked, “Do you make house calls? I could use some of these healing sessions before I go to bed at night?”

Rather than treating my question like a joke however, Dr. Baldwin sat next to me and considered it seriously.

“I would be happy to, if you need that. Do you often have difficulty sleeping?”

“Yes, actually,” I admitted. “And…”

“And what?” he prodded.

“Well, I’ve been having nightmares as well. In fact, it’s been getting harder and harder to get a good night’s sleep.”

He frowned. “That’s a very serious matter, Princess. I’m going to come to the palace tonight, and treat you before you turn in for the night.

“I’ll come back in the morning as well. If you don’t sleep well, a morning healing session might be very beneficial.”

Touched by his kindness, I reached over and took his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Baldwin. That would mean a lot to me.

“In fact, why don’t you just stay the night in one of the palace guest suites?”

Baldwin agreed, and I was glad.

With him there, maybe we could get my sleeping schedule back on track.

And then, maybe we could figure out how to truly heal my father. Together.