Royal Games

Chapter 52

"He's not answering." I hiss, tempted to smash my phone on the floor.

"His phone could be on silent. Or switched off completely." Isaac tries to reassure me. We're driving to the hospital, having already stopped off at a local shop to purchase bar after bar of chocolate. White, dark, milk, nutty, caramel, plain... We have a huge selection for the children to pick from.

"I need to know that Liam's safe."

"Can you contact your brother? Surely if they're working together, he'll know what's happened."

I sigh, even though what I really want to do right now is scream. I pound my fingers against the phone screen. "Pick up. Pick up. Pick up." I mutter.

"Hello," Relief floods through me at the sound of his voice. "This is..."

"Marco." I cut him off abruptly. There's no time for pleasantries or arguments. "Is Liam alright?"

"Liam? Last time I saw him was when you all left the room together."

I swear. "I need you to check if he's safe."

"Why? Is something wrong?" It sounds like genuine concern in Marco's voice.

"Our mother knows he was up to something this morning. I don't know exactly what she thinks happened, but me and Isaac had to run to get out of the palace before we could be found. Liam didn't come with us, and I don't know what's happened to him."

"I'll look into it." He pauses. "But Alyssa, you can't come back to the palace."

"I know." I reply. And I do know. If I go back to the palace, it will have to be to kill my mum. There can be no other reason. No sneaking around, trying not to get caught. It can't happen. But at least now I'm able to communicate with multiple allies there.

"I'll get back to you later."

"Bye." I say, before ending the call.

"Better?" Isaac questions.

"Not really. Now it's just a waiting game for Marco to get back to me."

"At least something's being done though. Try to cheer up for the children."

"I'll be wearing my mask." I reply.

Isaac goes silent. We don't speak for the rest of the journey. I know he's not pleased about what he's dubbed my 'emotional mask', but he also seems to realise that now is not the time to object to it.

It's not long before we reach the hospital. We explain our idea to the man at the reception desk, showing him our two bags full of chocolate. He's ecstatic to hear about it and eagerly gets us to sign in as guests.

Isaac shows me the way to the children's ward, and it's the first time he's directly addressed me since our conversation in the car.

"Here we are." He pushes a door with a large brown teddy painted on it and holds it open. I walk through, feeling his presence only a step behind me.

"Hello." A female nurse greets us, turning from some papers pinned to the wall. "Can I help you?"

We go over to her, and I speak in a hushed tone. "We brought some chocolate as Boxing Day gifts. Would it be alright if we hand it out to the children?" Isaac holds up his bag for emphasis.

"Of course." The nurse beams. She pulls back a curtain, revealing a young girl flipping through a magazine in her hospital bed. I instantly notice the wheelchair propped up against the wall. "This is Saffie. She's been here for a week now, but we're hoping to discharge her in the next few days."

"Hi Saffie." Isaac says. She looks up from the magazine. Curiosity at her unexpected guests is written across her face. I'd guess she's about eight or nine years old.

"Would you like some chocolate?" I smile, making my way over to perch tentatively on the edge of the bed.

Saffie breaks out into a radiant grin. It's a sight of pure joy. "Oh. Yes please."

"Take your pick." I say, showing her the plastic bag. Eagerly, she leans forward to survey the contents. She dips a hand in to pull out a bar of caramel chocolate.

"Is there anything you're looking forward to when you're allowed to go home?" Isaac asks her.

"Other than sleep in my own bed? I want to go to a concert."

I stifle a laugh at the random statement. There's something so special and precious about how a child's mind works. "Have you ever been to a concert before?"

"No." She shakes her head. "But my mummy promised to take me to one."

"I hope you enjoy it." Isaac says.

Saffie is too busy tucking into her chocolate to reply.

I get up from the bed. "Goodbye, Saffie."

"Bye." Saffie says, the sound muffled by her mouth half-full of chocolate.

The nurse leads me and Isaac over to the next child, a boy with plastic tubes up his nose to help him breath. We go round all the children, sparing a few minutes to talk to each of them individually. They all have different reasons for being here, and different stories to share, but every single one of them is thrilled to see us. Some of them are likely only interested because of the treats we offer. But I get the sense that some of them are simply pleased to have an unforeseen visitor.

One particular boy has his parents with him, so we spend an extra few minutes chatting to them. They tell us how wonderful what we're doing is.

"Not enough people round here know the true meaning of charity." The dad tells us. "They think giving a bit of money is all they need to do. I work here myself, and not once in six years have I seen anyone other than family and friends of patients visiting this ward."

When we've seen all the children, we thank the nurse, leaving her with the leftover chocolate. She insists that she should be the one to thank us.