The Surgeon King's Secret Baby

In the end his brother hadn’t survived after the explosion. So it had all been for naught.

Which now made him King and his critically ill son his heir.

His son who was dying.

“Kainan, are you okay?”

He turned and saw Reagan was looking up from the piles of paperwork.

“Overwhelmed?” she asked gently.

He smiled. “Under...” Only he couldn’t finish the word because his throat closed up, He felt humiliated by it.

Her expression softened. “Statement? Understatement?”

Then she smiled. That warm and friendly open smile which had won him over. She’d always tried to act so strong, but when he’d seen her smile at wounded soldiers, offering them compassion, he’d been won over time and time again. Reagan had reminded him of his mother—not in looks, but in strength and fortitude.

His mother Ariana had been compassionate, strong, independent. She’d loved his father, even though his father hadn’t seemed able to love her back in the same way.

When his mother had died he’d been so lonely. There had been no love in the palace. His father had stood on formality. As had his elder half brother Alek. Only his mother had given him affection.

Reagan hadn’t known he was a prince. She’d been so honest. So warm. He’d craved that warmth. Needed it like air. She’d treated him like everyone else on the unit and with her he’d been himself. There had been no formality. No protocol. It had been nice to be himself for a change, instead of Prince Kainan.

If there hadn’t been a war... If he was still the spare...

He didn’t want to drag her into the tumultuous situation that was still happening in his country. Still, she’d borne his child and she would be in danger if word got out. If he married her he could protect her. He had to do right by her, even though that would mean her life wouldn’t be her own anymore. Even though he would be condemning her.

Yes. That. He rubbed his temples, felt his throat tightening again.

“I’m sorry there’s so much. I swear we’re almost done with the orientation.”

Can we take a break? he signed.

She cocked an eyebrow. “A break?”

Coffee?

He had to get out of this room. He felt as if he was suffocating again. Like when he’d woken up after the blast and not been able to breathe, with a tube in his throat, burns on his body.

“Okay...”

She seemed unsure. Confused.

He was confused too—about this whole situation.

When he’d felt this way in the past, surgery and practicing medicine—his work—had helped him get through so much. Saving lives made sense to him. It made sense of this mixed-up world.

And he couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t be a proper surgeon because he couldn’t speak, and couldn’t sign when his hands were busy. He couldn’t lead his broken country for the same reason. He was trapped in limbo.

They walked in silence to the coffee cart.

Even though there were Hermosian guards all through this hospital, and he was being monitored by the Canadian government, no one besides those watching him for his own protection knew he was King.