Before he can answer, there’s a notification ping on his phone of a message coming. I see him pause, deliberating for several seconds whether to answer it or not because of the absurd timing. But the call of duty wins and he sighs as he slides off the bed. “It’s the King. Only his messages and calls would have gotten through my notification settings.”
I rub the sleep from my eyes. “What is it?”
He reads the message and his demeanor changes. He quickly retrieves his shirt and his shoes and tells me to stay in bed and that he’ll be right back.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
“It’s the Queen, she needs help. Please stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’ll send someone to bring you something to eat.” He is out of the door before I can ask anything else.
The lovely
