Blood Bond

Sometime after Naomi left, as true evening began to bleed into night outside the window, Dr. Sharma stopped by briefly. He'd gotten the preliminary results from the spinal tap back already – a rush order, I supposed.

"Good news, Leonard," he'd said, his voice calm but perhaps a fraction less guarded than before. "No leukemia cells in the CSF. It hasn't spread to the central nervous system."

A breath I hadn't realized I was holding escaped me. One less front to fight on, at least for now.

"We'll proceed with the standard CNS prophylaxis," he'd added, "but the main induction chemotherapy starts tonight, as planned."

And now, later that night, Mom was gathering her things. The room felt quiet, heavy with anticipation. "Okay, honey," she said softly, smoothing my blanket. "Nurse Miller will be in soon to get your first chemo started. I need to go pick Maya up from Mrs. Gable's before it gets too late."

Guilt twisted inside me. "Okay, Mom." I hesitated. "Mom... I'm sorry."

She paused, turning back. "Sorry for what?"

"For... all this," I gestured weakly at the IV pole. "Being a burden. I wanted to get that library job."

Her expression firmed, cutting through my words with fierce love. She squeezed my hand hard. "Don't be stupid, child," she said, her voice low but absolute. "You are not a burden. You're my son. We handle this. Together. End of story." She kissed my forehead. "I'll be back later tonight, or first thing tomorrow if you're asleep. You rest."

She left. Minutes later, Nurse Miller came in, her movements quiet, efficient. She checked my IV, hung the bags containing the clear, poisonous liquids that were supposed to save me. The first drip echoed the steady, relentless beep of the monitor.

The sheer weight of the day – the fear, the pain, the emotional highs and lows, the shock of it all – pressed down on me. My eyelids felt like lead. The faint glow from the IV pump blurred. As I watched the slow drip, drip, drip of the poison that's meant to save my life flow into my vein, the room began to fade.

—

My eyes snapped open and I was staring at the hewn stone ceiling instead of the artificial tiles. The smell of earthy incense hung in the air instead of disinfectants. There was no more IV tube hanging off of me, no clear bag of liquid dripping poison into my vein. I'm back.

I looked over my hands: fingers small, pale, delicate… responsive and alive. These were my hands. No more, long, knobby, tanned, and… ugly ones. Just kidding, those were my hands as well. I know I can't extricate my selves anymore.

It was grey outside, the pre-morning light came through the high window. Birds chirped in the distance, a sharp contrast to the inanimate beeps that I was so very glad were gone. I sat up. My negligee flowed around my limber body, the cloth svelte and silky, extravagant compared to the synthetic, paper hospital gown.

I pushed open the door to the temple cell. Meris swirled to me. "Your highness! You're awake? Do you have a need of something. Juice, or some fruits perhaps?" Her eyes landed on my outfit, and the sheer fabric hugging tight to my body. She ushered me back inside. "Let's get you something to wear."

"No," I said. The thought of being constricted under layers of fabric, fancy as it is, made me nauseous. It reminded me too much of being stuck on the hospital bed under those sheets. I have had enough! "Get me a tunic and trousers."

Meris froze at the door, and looked at me with confusion. "I'm sorry, your highness. Tunic and trousers?"

"Yes, the shorter the better, something loose. I don't care where you get them, from the priests, or acolytes, or even the orphans, well no, not the orphans. Just get them now!"

She looked utterly scandalized, with her jaw hanging half open. It took her a minute to recover and she scurried off.

I swung the door open and called out to Kael on the other side of the doorway.

He turned and immediately looked the other way. "Your highness! You can't expose yourself like that."

"It doesn't matter. Do you know any trails near here?"

"Trails?" He still refused to look at me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I placed an impatient hand on my hip. "Yes, trails for running."

"Running, from what?" His voice cracked, he seemed a bit off kilter.

"Just running. I remember Father saying there are royal woods nearby."

"I know there are some hunting trails nearby. I can check with the groundskeeper," he sputtered.

"Do that. I want to head out as soon as I get dressed." I dismissed him and shut the door. What's gotten into him?

I snatched the clothes from Meris when she got back. She watched with growing horror as I pulled on the drab green linen tunic. And nearly convulsed when I slipped into the 'trousers' which was just a cut-up and sewn-together canvas sack.

"Here, let me help you, your highness." She took over when I fumbled to tie together the rope that acted as a belt for my sack trousers.

The morning sun was peeking over the horizon when we made our way over to the head of the trail. I did a light stretch, including parts of the warm up routine that I usually do before a cross-country meet: a minute of in place jogging, shaking out my arms and legs, then a few jumping jacks. Kael and Meris stood, silently watching me as if I was possessed, which I suppose I was.

"Alright, I know you two can keep up. But can you stay a bit behind me? I just need some… space."

—

I pushed off, leaving Kael and Meris in the background behind me. The initial strides chafed my legs against the rough trousers, and my feet slipped in the borrowed soft boots, but then something clicked – a rhythm, deep and ingrained, asserted itself. My runner's rhythm. My legs found a cadence, arms pumping instinctively. Faster. I pushed harder, driven by the desperate need for air, for freedom, for distance from sterile rooms and fearful memories.

The hunting path plunged into the woods east of the temple, dappled sunlight breaking through the canopy of ancient, moss-draped trees. The air was cool, damp, rich with the smell of pine needles and loamy earth. This is it, memories echoed against the present, out in the woods, alone, just the steady rhythm of step, step, step, breathing hard until lungs burned, with nothing but the path ahead and the world falling away behind. Yes! This was the escape I craved.

But those memories belonged to a different body. Lungs accustomed to cross-country training, muscles honed by miles on pavement. My lungs began to sear almost immediately, each gasp pulling in air that felt both wonderfully fresh and painfully insufficient. A sharp stitch flared beneath my ribs, forcing me to hunch even as I tried to maintain the stride. Gods, this hurts!

A flash of white flickered between the trees ahead. Three graceful, deer-like creatures, their coats pure white, paused to regard me. A single, elegantly spiraled horn rose from each forehead. They watched with placid, dark eyes before vanishing soundlessly into the undergrowth. Not unicorns, I registered dimly, Gladeharts. Above, a shadow passed, vast and swift – a hawk, far larger than any bird I'd seen in my earth memories, an Aethelwing, the symbol of Aethelgard, its cry echoing faintly down through the leaves. This world pulsed with its own life, startling and real.

My legs felt heavy now, the initial exhilaration drowned by aching muscles. Each footfall jarred. Sweat beaded on my forehead, stinging my eyes. This body, pampered and untrained, was screaming betrayal. Stop. Just stop. But the memory of helplessness, of lying prone while that needle pressed into my spine... No. I wouldn't stop. I pushed harder, leaning into the burn, focusing on the rhythm. Persistence. Keep moving. Push past it.

My breath rasped, ragged. The memory surfaced again, unbidden: Me, younger, gasping, staggering across a finish line on a grassy field, Sam beside me, equally spent. We were the last two in, jeered by some, ignored by most. But we finished. Together. That shared refusal to quit...

Fueled by that borrowed grit, I forced myself around another bend. The path opened. And then, finally, I allowed myself to slow, stumbling to a halt, hands braced on my knees, chest heaving, sucking in ragged breaths. Every muscle quivered with exhaustion. I was a sweaty, disgusting mess, my hair plastered to my neck, the rough, drenched linen clinging unpleasantly.

But as I straightened, gasping, a wave of sheer relief washed through me. The frantic worry, the confusion, the lingering specter of death – they felt distant, burned away by the physical exertion, leaving behind an empty clarity.

Footsteps approached. Kael and Meris emerged from the trail behind me. Neither looked remotely winded. Kael's breathing was even, his dark leather jacket immaculate despite the run. Meris, though perhaps faintly flushed, showed no sign of exertion even in her frilled uniform. Her posture was as upright and severe as ever. Of course, I thought with a flicker of annoyance. His knight rune, her shadow stalker rune... this was likely a brisk stroll for them.

"Your Highness," Kael said, his tone level, though his eyes scanned me with professional concern. "A message arrived while you were... running. His Majesty, Her Majesty, and High Prince Theron departed by airship moments ago for Aethelgard Keep. An urgent summons concerning the Concord."

I straightened, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. "They left? Already?"

"It was abrupt, Your Highness," Meris confirmed, her voice crisp. "You are instructed to return to the temple immediately to prepare for departure. You will travel via carriage with Princess Astrid and the visiting princes shortly." Her disapproving eyes looked me up and down. "Let's get you cleaned up first."

The brief illusion of freedom evaporated.