Elias sensed the changes not only in the people around him but in the general atmosphere of the hospital itself. The doctors and nurses seemed wary and a little tense, which was nothing compared to the tension he detected in Sander and the others. It was an underlying nuance, rather than in-your-face emotion. Elias wondered for a moment whether his ability to understand the difference was actually part of his memory trying to return, or whether the analytical section of his brain that was used to picking apart details had provided the answers. He couldn’t tell, and that was as frustrating as the suffocating sense of all four walls closing in. Leaving the hospital was beneficial to his mental health, he was sure of it, and meant to follow through with his plans.

At exactly 5:00 a.m., he threw back the sheets and put his feet on the ground. He swayed as he stood, a common occurrence every time he got out of bed. The dizzy spell only lasted as long as it took him to adjust the sling that held his arm in an L shape. His head pounded in a way that reminded him of tribal drumbeats. That he knew what tribal drumbeats should sound like yet couldn’t remember his own family was one of the baffling things about his memory loss.

Despite the throb behind his brow and the ache in his wrist, he declined to seek attention for the pain.

Once he felt steady enough to move without falling, he sought the stash of clothes Chey had left in an armoire. It didn’t escape him that the jeans, dark blue button-down, and black boots were his clothes, brought from a bedroom he’d once claimed as his own. Everything fit too well for it to be otherwise.

He dressed with care and patience, pausing several times when dizziness overcame him. The buttonholes were a major nuisance with his limited dexterity, and by the time he had done up the last button, his fingers were shaking. His breathing resembled that of a man who’d just run several flights of stairs although he hadn’t moved from the armoire. The repeated struggle to pull up the jeans resulted in an achy wrist and an uptick in overall malaise. He hadn’t expected to feel so weak; it frustrated and annoyed him.

The pounding in his head increased, spreading along the frontal lobe and down behind his eyes. Elias lifted a hand to rub away the pain at his temples, a useless endeavor because the pain not only remained but intensified.

After a fortifying breath, he stepped away from the armoire with the intent to exit the room and make his way out of the hospital altogether. He had no clear destination in mind and wasn’t sure where he would spend the night. The overwhelming need to move, to do something proactive and begin to rebuild his life drove him forward toward the door.

Eight steps from the bed, his legs gave out and his body buckled beneath him. White-hot pain lanced through his head as he fell.

A strong pair of arms caught him before he hit the ground. Elias sagged into the circle of strength as a familiar voice spoke near his ear.

“How about we try the chair first? It’s about ten feet to your left. Think you can make it?”

Elias had expected Sander—it could be no one else there to catch him—to reprimand him for his folly. Instead, the man who was king of a nation offered to help him to a halfway point. No lectures were forthcoming as Sander guided him to the chair in question. Elias sank gratefully into the seat and looked up into Sander’s face. He hardly recognized the man who wore a dark skullcap pulled over his hair and nondescript clothing. Sander could have been any man on the street.

“Thanks,” Elias said. He wanted to ask for something to ease the pain, but was too proud and too stubborn. “I just need a minute.”

“Of course,” Sander said, as if this was all normal and he fully expected Elias to continue once he was able. “You want a drink? Water or something?”

Elias searched Sander’s eyes for frustration or annoyance. He only found concern and what seemed to be a genuine will to help.

“No, thanks,” Elias said.

“All right.” Sander retreated across the room and leaned against the counter. He said nothing more.

Elias marked Sander’s path with more than a little curiosity. The man didn’t seem to want to talk or press him with questions, which threw him off guard. Why wasn’t Sander trying to convince him not to leave? Where were the lectures about heirs and thrones and danger?

Silence descended. Now that he’d been unhooked from machines and tubes, there were no clicks and beeps to interrupt the quiet.

Sander crossed his arms over his chest and took up a lax pose, as if prepared to stand there for hours. One boot hooked over the other at the ankle.

Something about Sander’s steadfastness soothed a little of Elias’s pent-up anxiety. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about the man’s actions that brought on a fresh wave of contemplation, but it did, and he was suddenly less anxious to leave the hospital than he had been before.

Maybe it was the blinding pain making him weak. Elias sat forward and cradled his head in his hand. The pain increased until he thought he might lose the contents of his stomach. He expected Sander to rush over again and offer all manner of aid—but Sander didn’t move. It struck Elias between bouts of light-headedness and nausea that Sander had pulled back from the emotional edge of the situation and was only there in a supporting role.

Elias thought he should feel proud of that accomplishment. After all, he’d been trying to distance himself from these people for days. Yet something felt wrong about the entire thing, as if he’d lost something precious that he could not define.

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Another sharp pain brought a gasp to his lips.

Darkness swooped up at the edges of his vision, threatening to overtake the light.

Elias experienced a sense of floating.

He only realized Sander had picked him up from the chair and was carrying him to the bed just before the darkness claimed him completely.

“He was holding his head like he was in pain right before he blacked out,” Sander informed Steffanson. He paced restlessly next to Elias’s hospital bed while the doctor completed the examination.

“His vitals are good. I think he just overdid it, Your Majesty. He took a nasty knock to the head; it’s expected that he’ll take a little longer to recover than normal.”

“So you don’t think there’s a return of the brain swelling?” Sander asked.

“I don’t think so, but we’ll do another CAT scan to be sure. I’d really like him to stay another few days, if you can convince him to do so.” The doctor straightened from Elias’s bedside.

“He seems pretty set on his own course of action. I’ll do my best.” Sander stared down at Elias before exiting the room so the doctor and staff could get on with the scan.

In the hallway, he paused to call Chey and fill her in on the newest developments. It took him fifteen minutes to talk her out of returning to Kalev. Although he didn’t want to downplay her concern, he knew that she was busy helping Mattias arrange Emily’s upcoming ceremony. He promised to call her back if the scan showed something it shouldn’t.

A half hour after that, while he was once again pacing the hallways, the doctor returned with news.

“Everything is normal, Your Majesty. He has no new swelling. I’ve attempted to convince him to remain in the hospital for a few more days, though, as a precaution.”

“He’s awake?”

“Yes. I’ve given him something for pain.”

“Thank you.” Sander navigated his way back to Elias’s room and entered to find his son sitting on the edge of the bed. Relief took a back seat to the disquieting thought that Elias might attempt to leave the hospital in questionable condition. He didn’t directly approach the bed, but went to a chair and straddled it backward. Sander hoped the distance would put Elias at ease.

“Feeling better?” Sander asked.

“A little. They gave me something for the head pain.” Elias’s fingertips gingerly traced the bandages at his temple.

“Good. The doctor says the brain swelling hasn’t returned. That’s excellent news.” Sander waited through the silence that followed. Elias seemed to be considering his predicament and he didn’t want to rush him into a decision. He lounged on the chair as if he had all the time in the world.

For Elias, for any of his children, he did.

“You don’t look or act like a king,” Elias said out of the blue.

“If you remembered your past, you would know this is how I look a lot of the time. I save the suits for business. As for the other—how should a king act?”

Silence again, as if Elias was searching his nonexistent memory for an answer. It pained Sander to watch his son struggle with the simplest of questions.

“I don’t know,” Elias said.

“Well, I suppose some kings are distant and cold and untouchable. That’s not me, though. Never has been.”

“Was I like you?”

“You are, and aren’t. You’ve always been your own man. But you were never cold and untouchable. A little quiet, introspective, driven. Those words describe you.” Sander felt like his heart was twisting in his chest. The conversation proved difficult to navigate when Elias used past-tense terms.

“Did I run from trouble? Because that’s what I feel like I need to do. Run from all this.”

“I’ve never known you to take the easy way out, Elias. You have always stood up to adversity and faced it head on. But this isn’t a normal situation so don’t judge your reactions too harshly. I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up and suddenly not know anyone around me.”

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Elias said. It sounded like a confession.

“I’ll always be here, son. You don’t know it now, but I put my kids above everything else. You four are the most important thing in my life, along with your mother. If the situation was reversed, you wouldn’t leave my bedside either. We share a special bond, you and I.”

Elias looked down and away.

Sander spent a moment to collect himself. He could almost feel Elias withdrawing, pulling back from the conversation. As if the terms of endearment and affection made him uncomfortable. Sander realized that he would probably feel the same way if strangers admitted to such strong feelings about him. At the very least, it would be awkward. He promised himself to go easier on the deeper emotions generated between parents and children.

Knock, knock, knock. Someone was at the door.

Sander pushed up from the seat and crossed the room. The movement helped dispel some of the restlessness starting to set in again.

Inari Ascher stood in the hallway, face a mask of worry and fear. The tawny-haired, green-eyed future queen of Somero, the woman who had stolen Elias’s heart months back, appeared ready to take on the task of confronting Elias’s amnesia. Sander had warned her during a call the night before that Elias hadn’t been receptive to friends and family, and that she shouldn’t take rejection personally.

No one could be sure what Elias’s reaction would be. They only had recent experience to go by.

“Come in,” Sander said, and opened the door to admit her.

Inari nodded once and stepped into the room.

Sander followed Inari toward the bed, but split off to the chair to give the two room to reconnect. He watched Elias’s reaction closely, secretly hoping to see a spark of recognition in his son’s eyes.

“Hello, Elias,” Inari said as she set down her purse and removed her jacket. Beneath she wore a simple pair of charcoal slacks and a filmy peach top.

Elias frowned. “Who are you?”

Sander shook his head Inari’s way, as if to say, he doesn’t remember. Go easy.

Inari looked back to Elias. She rubbed her palms together at first, like she was nervous, then dropped her hands to her sides and approached the bed. Sander was relieved to note that Inari was taking his earlier advice: don’t rush, go slow, keep a little distance.

“I’m Inari Ascher. You’re my boyfriend, Elias. We’ve been together for a while now. Sander called me last night to tell me what happened,” Inari said. She stood next to the end of the bed, leaving a few feet of separation.

After no less than a solid minute of silence, Elias said, “I don’t remember you either. Not anything about you.”

“That’s okay,” Inari said. “Your dad told me it might take some time.”

Elias studied Inari for another minute. He seemed to be waging an inner battle Sander could not begin to guess at.

“I’d like you to leave. Please get out,” Elias said. He was not cruel, only abrupt.

“I can—”

“Just get out,” Elias repeated.

Sander stood as Inari retreated to gather her purse and draw on her coat. He escorted her to the door, dismayed but not unsurprised at the outcome. Nothing about the situation was going to be easy.

“I know you’re busy, Inari, but I’d like you to stay for a little while if you can. We’ll convert one of the suites here in the hospital if we have to,” Sander said once they’d reached the hallway.

“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t mind hanging out in the waiting room for now,” Inari said.

Sander approved of Inari’s fortitude and determination. She wasn’t going to let a small setback dissuade her from trying to help Elias. She was tough, as any future queen should be.

“We’ll try again in a few hours, if I can persuade him to stay in the hospital.” Sander stepped back into Elias’s room and closed the door on the rest of the world.

For the moment, he didn’t want any more interruptions.

Elias needed time to adjust and recalibrate.

Just as he reached the chair, Elias managed to surprise him with a request.

“I’ve changed my mind. I want to go to the castle you keep talking about. I’d like to see the place I sleep, where I live.”

“We can make that happen anytime. Maybe tomorrow?” Sander preferred Elias rest before anything else. He had a feeling Elias was still fighting pain, if the winces and pale face were any indication.

Elias leaned back into the bed and stretched out, a further indication to Sander that waiting to depart for Kallaster was the right decision.

“Tomorrow,” Elias said, and closed his eyes.