The Last Dragon Shifter

Chapter Forty-Five

Naomi watched with a wrenched heart as Malcolm's still form rested in the hospital bed. His eyes were closed and his face pale as his physician and father surrounded him. Queen Fiona and Alicia also sat by his bedside. The queen's face was soaked with tears while Alicia held onto Malcolm's hand.

"The gemstone was a common emerald, but it was painted over with a powerful opiate—dyreca. Any contact with it, and it seeps into one's bloodstream. I've done everything in the book, including placing Malcolm in an induced coma to stop it from spreading. For now, we'll have to wait to see how he reacts to the treatment."

The king said nothing. He simply stepped away from the bed and began to pace. Those thick boots of his clopped across the marble floor, and while they were only shoes, Naomi flinched at the sound. Each thud felt like a condemnation, thunderclaps before the real storm hit. Naomi stood beside Figgis, Sam, and Dean Wellington, as they watched the king walk back and forth.

"This is unbelievable," King Drewell finally spoke—and turned on them. "How could you imbeciles let this happen?"

The dean was the only one brave enough to answer.

"King Drewell, while I'm sorry for what Malcolm's going through, none of us could have predicted this."

She spoke cautiously but the king was having none of it.

"This is your school, isn't it? Don't you know what goes on here?"

"Yes, but—"

"And you three!" King Drewell interrupted, turning on his guards. "Where the hell were you?"

"I tried to talk him out of competing, Your Highness. He wouldn't listen," Naomi said, her eyes stuck on Malcolm's pallid form.

"It's not your job to tell him what to do. It's your job to stop this from happening. What good is a damn dragon if they don't fight with fire or whatever else when you need them to? The single reason why I let him stay in this infernal game was because he said he trusted you three to look after him." The king pointed an accusatory finger at them.

Naomi bowed her head, heartbreakingly ashamed. Had Malcolm said that? He trusted her, and she'd ripped that trust to shreds.

"Your Highness, I never meant for this to happen. Please—"

"Get out of my sight, you useless girl." The king's rage flashed on her. "I never should have let you near my son. May the gods help you, because when this is over—however it ends—you'll have to answer to me. Answer for my son's pain."

"King Drewell, the girl isn't at fault," Figgis interjected. "We—"

"Shut up. You two are in just as deep as she is. Get out. All of you. I want you gone!"

Before the king could start throwing things, Naomi rushed out of the room, Figgis and Sam hot on her heels, with the dean close behind. Only Queen Fiona and Alicia remained. As the infirmary door swung shut, Naomi heard Alicia begging to the king.

"Please let me stay a little longer. I can't leave him. Not like this..."

At her plaintive plea, Naomi's chest stabbed with pain. Regardless of Alicia's outward selfishness and snobbery, she truly did care for the prince.

When the infirmary door closed behind them, Naomi faced her fellow guilty companions, and Dean Wellington cleared her throat.

"Well, I'll take my leave of you. I'm afraid I must go back to my office. Take care of some things..."

Watching her retreat, Naomi knew exactly what the dean should be taking care of: packing her things. Because the king would definitely end her time here.