Red & White

forty one.

She turned the next page on her novel, sighing to herself. The book was not one of her favorites, the genre of fantasy being entirely foreign and frankly, odd. The plot was far too extreme for her liking.

But she refused to go to the library and find another. Harry's surgery could be over any minute and Leah knew someone would be trying to reach her to give her the message to come back down to the hospital ward. Their bedroom was the first destination they would try.

So for four hours Leah laid in bed reading and waiting for a knock on the door. The words on the pages weren't even properly being absorbed in her brain because it was busy worrying about Harry. Something could easily go wrong in the procedure and hurt him even more severely.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity of angst, a sturdy knock sounded at the door. Her heart momentarily stopped beating.

This is it, she thought. It must be over. He could either be completely fine and resting, or the procedure could have gone terribly wrong..

"Who is it?" Leah called out with a shaky voice, uncertainty washing over her. Her feet carried her to the door.

"It's Louis."

She tried to locate some sort of emotion in his voice to hint at whether or not the surgery went properly, but she found none. It was plain.

Leah hastily unlocked the door and swung it open to find her friend.

"Is he okay?" she nervously questioned, biting at her nail.

"He's fine. A little antsy, but fine," the valet answered and the dark, worrying cloud in her soul cleared up. "Now, come on, love, Harry's asking for you again."

Leah reached behind her to grab a light sweater, feeling the rush of early spring wind creeping into the corridor's open windows. She shrugged it on after shutting the bedroom's door, then proceeded to follow after the valet who was already down the passage.

Harry's color was off when they opened the curtain to reveal the royal in his hospital bed. He was staring straight ahead, paying no attention to the nurse wrapping another bandage across his arm. It was as if he physically was there, but beyond those green eyes he wasn't present in the room.

That was, until Leah reached out to touch his healthy hand. His daze diminished in front of her. He instinctively scooted over a tad for her to sit down on the edge of the cot.

"Hi," she softly greeted, running two fingers through a swoop of hair drooping over the Prince's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Can I go?"

"You're so pale," Leah noted, ignoring his comment that was clearly a bluff.

The nurse stepped in, explaining: "His discoloration is due to exhaustion from the procedure and the slight medication he's currently on. It should wear off by morning."

She nodded in understanding.

"I just want to leave this room. The whiteness is slowly killing my eyes," Prince Harry complained in an off voice. Everything about him was off, but if the nurse said it was because of the medicine she chose not to worry.

"You'll leave soon," she said to please him, but then turned to the elder woman and whispered, "He will leave soon, right?"

Harry huffed at that.

"Oh yes, he's good to go now. We wanted someone here to walk him up to his room." The nurse then paused to shoot the Prince a sour face. "And he would have been released sooner had he accepted the guard's assistance in bringing him back to his bedroom."