The Royals of Monterra: Royal Spirits (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Aileen Harkwood

Author:Aileen Harkwood [Harkwood, Aileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kindle Worlds
Published: 2018-01-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in old familiar surroundings, an emergency room bed. My curtained cubical looked almost identical to triage spaces in American hospitals, except the cautions and instructions on the equipment were in Italian.

I turned my face to the side and glimpsed Carlo pacing up and down in a corner of the “room.” When he saw I was awake he sprang forward and rushed to my side.

“Livia, il mio fiore,” he said. His fingers traced my brow and then caressed my cheek.

“You’ve said that before. Il mio fiore.”

“It means, my flower,” he said. “because you smell like violets.”

How ironic. Being called a flower when you couldn’t smell them.

“I used to love violets,” I said.

I’d been pretty out of it, but I remembered a tense trip down the slopes in a rescue basket with Carlo watching over me and continually reassuring me everything was going to be okay. Then, had come the ride in an ambulance here. I’d had trouble maintaining consciousness. Simone had stolen every iota of energy my panic attack hadn’t wasted. Eventually, I’d given up on staying awake.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Worry cloaked his habitual confidence in a dark cloud. I’d given him a horrible, thoughtless scare.

“Stupid,” I said. “Really, really stupid.”

He smiled, though it was an effort.

“I meant your body, Livia,” he said.

I sat up, despite his immediate protests.

“My body feels fine. I’m not even sore.”

"The doctors assured me you didn't injure yourself. You've had x-rays and nothing is broken, though they did say…" He left the statement hanging.

I had a pretty good idea what the doctors had told him.

“I’ve broken bones before. Lots of them,” I said. “I also have a synthetic plate in my head from a skull fracture.”

“The accident where you lost your sense of smell?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t elaborate. I knew I’d have to talk about it. He deserved that much after what I’d just put him through, but I kept stalling.

“I’m sorry, Carlo. I really am. I should have told you.”

“That you can’t ski?”

“Except that wouldn’t be true.”

“When I spoke to Johann to see how your fitting had gone, he told me you were a slalom skier,” Carlo said.

“I never said that.”

I hadn’t told him anything, in fact.

No, you just let the ski guy assume what he wanted to assume.

“You didn’t have to. It’s your body type. Small, quick, agile. He’s used to seeing competition skiers in his shop every day.”

I sighed.

Okay. No getting around it. You’re going to have to fess up.

“He’s right. I am a slalom skier,” I said. “Or I was. Or that’s what they tell me I was good at.”

Carlo frowned. “What they told you? Who told you?”

“My doctors, after the accident.”

“Out there on the mountain, you said something strange. That you’d forgotten how to ski. That–”

I nodded. “That I’d tried to remember so I could ski with you today. Yes.”

“But you couldn’t,” he finished.

I shook my head. “My skiing ability is gone. I lost almost a year of my life,” I said.

“When? In the hospital? Recovering?”

"The moment I fell and hit my head," I said.

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