The Royals: A Kings Heart

Chapter 112

SASA'S POV_

I heard screaming and roaring from outside. I jumped up, running to the garden. The king lay on the grass, Nkosinhle standing on top of him, breathing angrily.

Me: "NKOSINHLE!!!" I knelt next to the King feeling his pulse. It was light. "What have you done?" The King wasn't responding. I couldn't tell if he was dead or dying. Oh my God. My hands were shaking, my brain trying to think. Zwe. I don't know how but he had to get here asap. I ran back to the room to fetch my phone. I dialed Zwe's number, running back to the garden. The guards just stood around useless as hell. How could Mthunzi let this happen and why were they stuck in limbo?

Me: "Zwe? Please come to the villa. The king is hurt. Badly."

Zwe: "Where's Nkosinhle?" I looked at him.

Me: "He's here."

Zwe: "I'm on my way."

Me: "His pulse is weak Zwe, what do I do?"

Zwe: "I'll be 10 minutes, Sasa. I'm taking the helicopter." I hung up and dialed for Amahle.

Ama: "I'm on my way." She answered.

Me: "Okay." I hung up. Blood had started to seep out his mouth and nose. I put a cushion under his head, so he doesn't choke. I looked at Nkosi. What was he thinking? What could get him so angry? He's not a violent person so what was this about? Honestly I'm disappointed but obviously this wasn't a small issue as I'd believed. This was not the kind husband I had gotten used to. Mthunzi held him back to the house. I looked down at the King, the bones in his neck visible under his skin. My hands were still shaking, imagining the pain. I touched his neck again feeling for his pulse.

Me: "The will of God surpasses all human understanding and decision. May you numb the body as the consciousness seeks healing, awaiting help." I whispered. A small sound groaned from him. "Please hold on." He groaned again. "Shhh. Only listen to the sound of my voice. I'm right here. Help is coming." I thought of a song to sing in hopes he could focus on my voice and the first that came to mind was one I'd listened to all week. "Starry, starry night, Paint your palette blue and grey, Look out on a summer's day, With eyes that know the darkness in my soul. Shadows on the hills, Sketch the trees and the daffodils, Catch the breeze and winter chills, In colors on the snowy linen land. Now I understand, What you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity. How you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they did not know how. Perhaps they'll listen now. Starry, starry night. Flaming flowers that brightly blaze. Swirling clouds in violet haze, Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue, Colors changing hue. Morning fields of amber grain, Weathered faces lined in pain, Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. Oh, now I understand. What you tried to say to me. How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free. They would not listen, they did not know how. Perhaps they'll listen now..." I continued to sing quietly, feeling the warmth in his hand.

Zwe: "Thembisa." I looked up.

Me: "Hi." He knelt on his other side.

Zwe: "What happened?"

Me: "I don't know. I was inside, Mthunzi can know better. How is he?" He felt for his pulse. A worried look crossed his face as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

Zwe: "Barely alive." A chilling cold went down my back. He undid his suit jacket and shirt, placing the stethoscope on him. "Need to get him to hospital." Amahle ran up to us. She knelt by her father's head, holding it with both hands.

Ama: "Thembisa, please go to the herb garden and pick Igazi lomfula. It's orange with white stripes. Take the one that has a closed mouth and only tear it from the root. Run." I ran up to the herb garden, searching the garden thoroughly until I spotted it in the corner. Only a few and all were opened. One small one in the corner was still closed, thank God. I carefully extracted from its root. I took it back to Amahle. She squeezed the plant, two drops of liquid dripped out and on to his mouth. "There. Now, the hospital. I'm coming with." Zwe called the guards to put him on the stretcher, and they jogged to the helicopter. Amahle got in with them, in no time the helicopter lifted off, flying away. I went into the villa. Nkosi was sitting on a chair in the restaurant, I knelt in front of him. The anger still emanated off his skin but it wasn't heat this time.