The Alpha King Call Boy
Chapter 91

Fiona

When I arrived at the nursing home after work, I went straight in to Grandfather's room as usual and was happy to find he was still up. "Fiona!" he cried. "My dear granddaughter."

"Hi, Grandfather." Seeing him smile made me do the same.

"What a joy it is," he said as I approached his bedside. "What a joy to see my lovely granddaughter, and my great-grandchild-to-be." He clasped my hand, brought it to his cold lips and gave my knuckles a kiss.

It was always a nice surprise when he was in a mood like this. Clear, talkative. Positive. And remembering at least some things.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked him.

"Oh, fine, fine," he answered. "More importantly, how are you, my dear?" He finally released my hand, and I settled down into the chair beside his bed.

"I'm doing well, Grandfather. I worked today and just thought I'd stop by before heading home. I hope my visit won't keep you up past your bedtime." I winked at him.

He chuckled. "Yes, I am an old man, Fiona. This program I am watching here" - he gestured to the TV, which was playing some sort of investigative news show - "I never know how the story ends."

I turned my head and gave the muted TV a closer look. The captions were on, running along the bottom of the big flat screen in oversized letters. I realized it was actually some sort of true-crime murder mystery documentary series.

On the screen, two men were engaged in an interview: a white-haired reporter in an expensive suit was listening intently to a prison inmate wearing black and white stripes. As we watched, the screen suddenly changed, displaying several bloody homicide photos with only the victims' faces blurred.

"Oh, Grandfather," I said, my jaw dropping a little. "This is so violent. You fall asleep watching this?"

A guilty little smile crept over his lips. "It's fascinating," he said, shrugging timidly, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

We watched a couple seconds longer. I couldn't deny that I was immediately intrigued by the story. These types of shows could be kind of addicting. And who was I to judge an old man for indulging a guilty pleasure?

"But you never even see how the story turns out?" I asked him. "That's the best part!"

He chuckled. I saw signs of sleepiness coming on, his eyelids looking heavy.

"How about I stay and watch the rest of this one with you tonight?" I asked him.

"Mm. That would be lovely, dear." He reached out toward me, asking for my hand again.

I scooted my chair closer to the bed so that I could let him hold my hand comfortably, without having to stretch my arm out.

"You're so good to me, Fiona." Grandfather, sleepy-eyed, turned his head in my direction and let it fall heavily against the pillow. "The Big Man was right. He won the lottery."

The smile on my face threatened to melt away. I held it in place for Grandfather's benefit. It seemed his lucidity was faltering.

"What do you mean?" I asked gently. "What lottery?"

"When we had breakfast the other morning," he muttered. "He said he won the lottery the day he met my Fiona."

I opened my mouth, just about to ask another question, but Grandfather's head slumped to the side a little, and he was out. The light snoring started up within seconds.

I got up and started the familiar process of readjusting his bed. There was a button on the side that reclined it; I pressed it slowly with one hand while holding Grandfather's shoulders, making sure he didn't slip while his backrest lowered. Once the bed was lowered to a comfortable angle for sleeping, I straightened his head on the pillow, pulled his blankets up around his shoulders, and tucked him in. "Night, Grandfather," I whispered as I gave him a little kiss on the forehead.

Passing the reception desk on my way out, I had an idea. I backtracked, went over to the counter.

It was late and the desk wasn't attended. The visitor's log was there on the ledge. I combed through the worn pages, going back a few days.

And sure enough, there on the sign-in log for this past Monday morning, was Alexander's name, penned in his signature cursive.

I guess he had come here on his own before leaving for his trip. For breakfast with my grandfather.

I marveled at the log a moment longer, squinting with confusion.

But by the time I was outside and getting into the car, the genuine smile had returned.

Alexander

"You sure didn't make it easy to find you," Kayden said as he refilled all three of our wine glasses. We had boarded the overnight train at sunset and were enjoying a late dinner in the dining car.

"How did you find me?" Iris asked, snatching up her glass. Then she threw her head back and drained the red liquid down in one big gulp.

I glanced away, embarrassed for her. Kayden averted his eyes as well. But Iris was blissfully ignorant of her transgression against basic decorum.

"Do you remember the last time that you and I spoke?" I asked.

Iris frowned, looking out the window. "Hmm. Yes, I think I do. The day that you left for war."

"Do you remember telling me how you always wanted to see the moors?"

She dropped her jaw dramatically. "You remembered that?"

"Sure. I knew we needed to find you and that was the only lead I had. So we came out here and started asking questions."

"Wow. But who wound up telling you where to find me?"

I smiled. Couldn't help it. "Are you familiar with a little girl with orange hair? Lives on a farm north of your village?"

Iris's eyes went round. "Sadie?"

I shrugged. I had not gotten my confidential source's identification during our short interview.

"Hmm. Makes sense. Her grandparents were probably less talkative, huh? Terry's pretty much threatened to kill anyone in the moors that ever revealed where I was."

Iris made this statement with surprising aplomb. As if it were perfectly normal to threaten death upon one's entire community.

"Iris, how is it that you know Terry?" I asked.

"Terry? Oh, we grew up together."

"You're related?"

"Oh, no. I mean, we always said we're cousins, because our moms were like sisters. But really they were just friends. I never had any real family. When my mom died, Terry and her mom were all I had left." "She seems to care about you a lot," Kayden commented.

"Well, I'm the only family Terry's got, too. Her mom died a year after mine."

I frowned. "I'm sorry for your losses, Iris."

She shrugged. "It's fine. At least I got one person that cares about me. Not everyone has anybody."

We finished our meals and a little more conversation, and were just about to head off to bed, when suddenly Iris blurted out, "There's something I should tell you."

I'd been halfway up out of my chair. I settled back down, asking, "What's that?"

"Well." She drummed her fingers on the table. "You know how we talked about my head injury?"

"Of course."

"See, it's not just the memory stuff left over. I get pain sometimes too. Real bad headaches. It's fine, really, I'm used to it by now. But I just thought maybe you should know, since you really want me to help with your case and everything, that some days I might not be real well." Iris's story just seemed to get worse and worse. "Have you seen any doctors about the headaches?"

She laughed. "Oh, no. I can't afford anything like that. It's fine, really. Just sometimes I got to stay in bed all day."

I shook my head. "We're going to get you seen by a doctor as soon as we're back in the city, okay? There must be something that can help. I'll pay for everything. I'll get you the best doctors, and see that you get the care you need."

Iris tore her eyes up, looking at me with a swell of tears threatening to burst. "Thank you," she said, choking up. "You're so thoughtful and generous."

As Iris retired to the separate sleeper car we had booked for her, I gave Kayden a nod. He understood and followed me into my room.

"What's up?" he asked, sitting in the room's sole chair.

I rubbed my hands together and cracked my knuckles. Three days without training, and even more importantly, without Fiona - my body was feeling tense and restless.

"I think I should have Iris move into the palace," I said.

Kayden raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I'm concerned about the medical care it sounds like she's going to need. If I put her up in an apartment like I planned, she'll be in and out of doctor's offices. If I move her into the palace, she can get care from the best doctors in the comfort of her own bedroom." I guess that makes sense." Kayden's words were moderately supportive, but his tone was unconvincing. "But Alex... how do you think Fiona will feel about that?"

“|

I wanted to pace the room, but the sleeper car was only about ten feet long and eight feet wide. I leaned my weight against the wall, letting the vibrations of the train percuss my shoulders.

"I don't know," I said. "But I think she'll understand."