The Last-Ditch Heir

The King Is Dying

King Uther of Forland, third of that name, wheezed as oxygen flowed through the cannula into his nostrils. He breathed deeply again, gasping for air. Alon checked the pulse oximeter, and adjusted the flow on the oxygen cannister. Her face gave nothing away.

Uther looked at her. He knew age, arthritis, and COPD from Covid-19 all worked against him, and accepted his end was near. "What's...the prognosis, Alon?" he asked.

Alon's face tightened. "The same, Your Majesty. You must go to hospital."

"Can't. Ka-ka-kack!" Uther spit phlegm into a tissue and tossed it in the wastebasket. "I have a kingdom to lead. My people depend on me." His rheumy, faded brown eyes looked into his old friend's worried eyes.

Prime Minister Haraldson bowed. "Sir, as your prime minister, and, I trust, most loyal subject, I urge you to go willingly to hospital."

Uther wheezed and nodded. "Very well. I'll go, but only until a hospital room is prepared here at Lindberg Palace for me."

The doctor and the Prime Minister looked at each other. Alon nodded. "We can care for him as well here as in hospital when we set up a proper room."

Uther's eyes wrinkled as he smiled. "You mean an intensive...care unit. I'm old e...nough to know...what's what."

Alon smiled through her grief for her old friend and king. "We never doubt your ability, sir." She adjusted the oxygen and Uther breathed easier.

"As soon as I've spoken to Richard and Waldemar's boy, I can leave. Baron Finn," he beckoned his Private Secretary over. "Please make arrangements for my work to be taken to hospital, and ring my valet...to pack my personal belongings."

"Yes, sir," Finn bowed and left the room.

"Are they waiting outside?" he asked Haraldson, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, sir, for some time."

"They'll keep. Richard will be king soon enough. He'll like that." Uther shook his head. "He's not a bad boy, or incompetent." Uther sighed. "He just wants pleasure and excitement, or he's bored. Ka-Kack! I hope he realizes he needs to mature now. Right now." Uther raised a trembling hand. "Right now, he whispered faintly, and sank back on the bed.

"Prince Sean is highly accomplished in business and banking and runs Westmere well for all his youth. He is responsible and highly regarded in his duchy," said the Prime Minister in a mild voice.

"Given the chance, he'll take Westmere independent from Forland. Have his revenge." Uther shook his head. "Perhaps I should have welcomed his mother into the family after my father died but there was the scandal over the Swan tiara."

"There was never proof she stole it," said Haraldson.

"Last in her care it was," Uther wheezed, scowling with satisfaction. "No one else touched the tiara. She must have broken it up and sold it to buy that marijuana farm."

The Prime Minister sighed. The Family searched for excuses to shun Waldemar's family, and the tiara was the best reason.

Uther sucked oxygen through the cannula. "We didn't think all the other heirs between Richard and that boy would be lost. Richard alone is left, our only hope to keep Forland together. The son of Waldemar and that woman will maneuver to take Westmere from the Union." The king's wrinkled face sagged. "They can do it. The treaty expires in five months. Richard shall ascend to the throne upon my death—yes, I said death. I don't have long. We must be careful and keep Richard alert to the danger from Waldemar's boy.

"Your government would prefer Prince Sean to have a position at court commensurate to his position," said Haraldson, hoping the King would agree at last. "Declared a minister of state, to be regent if Richard is out of the country, among other responsibilities."

"Never," said Uther. His weak brown eyes looked from one to the other. "Bring them in. I want to talk to them. Prime Minister, you stay. "Alon, do you need to stay with me, or can you start preparations to take me to hospital?"

"I'll give the orders to move you, sir," she said. With a bow, she left the room.

Finn knocked and entered. "Sir, your valet is packing now."

"Good. Bring Richard and Waldemar's boy in." His head drooped and he adjusted the cannula.

The door opened silently. Richard entered followed by Sean. Prince Richard, twenty-seven, was bursting with vigor. He found it hard to sit still, often shifting and wriggling, although he had learned some little control since his grandfather's illness. He was tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed, well-built, very popular with ladies and admired by men. He was kind when it didn't demand much of him. Everyone liked Richard. He excelled at all sports, which he pursued constantly.

He'd been summoned from a Mallorca vacation where swordfish practically jumped into the boat before he grew bored with it. He didn't hint of his irritation. He kissed his grandfather's cheek. "Grandfather." He looked the dying man over. Soon, he thought, so very soon. "I am glad to see you."

Sean was tall, fair, with hazel eyes and light curly hair pulled back in a short ponytail. Uther looked at that hair and shook his head. Sean's lips thinned. He had been an Olympic athlete for Forland in fencing and won a bronze medal. He was deceptively quiet, but alert and watchful, missing little. He too was a popular young man, and many of the people and the Government wanted him to work with the Royal Family. Uther's grudge kept him away.

Sean despised his father's relatives for their treatment of his parents. Nels II, Uther's father, barred them from court and royal events. He tried to keep the title of princess from Vivian to ensure her children could not inherit the Duchy of Westmere or the throne of Forland, but the law did not allow him to approve or disapprove marriages for the duchy. Sean, after his father's death, was Duke of Westmere and second-in-line to the throne.

He shook Uther's hand, "Uncle," he said, "I came as soon as I got your summons." He held the frail hand, patting it gently. He'd waited two days for Richard to arrive before Uther would see him. Uther's grip was weak and cold. Sean despised the old man but wished him no ill. Uther was very pale and struggled to breathe.

"Richard...Sean." Uther forced the latter name out. "I am going to hospital today until rooms can be prepared for me here. I will attend Government business. Richard will assist me." He looked from one young man to the other. Richard stiffened, for this meant his entertainments were on hold indefinitely. He expected to be named Regent. Sean's eyes narrowed and he nodded.

"I want you both to remain in Swansholm until further notice. Sean, you may have to return to Westmere to attend to your duties but be prepared to come to Lindberg Palace immediately you're needed.

"Yes, Uncle," Sean said. Richard nodded.

"The Prime Minister and Baron Finn will keep you both advised as necessary." He continued to dictate orders to Richard and Sean until Alon returned.

"Yes, Alon?" Uther asked.

"The ambulance will be ready in ten minutes. I'll ride with you." She looked Uther over closely. "You must rest." She checked the oximeter again.

"We'll leave you now, Grandfather," said Richard. They bowed and left. Alon followed them out.

In the privacy of the outer office, she said. "King Uther is very ill."

"How long does he have?" Richard asked. With a guileless sigh, he added, "We must prepare."

She shook her head. "A few weeks. A few months. Maybe four or five. His health will get worse as time goes by. His lungs and heart are failing. I am afr—concerned he may get congestive heart failure."

"He's very pale," said Sean. "How is his condition? Other than the COPD? Maybe he's anemic or low on iron. I've seen the condition in others."

"I'll run tests in hospital." She looked from Richard to Sean. "Prince Richard, you'll be kept up to date with everything we know. Prince Sean, you'll be advised, too. I'm sorry to deliver such sad news."

"Thank you," said Richard. "We'll do anything we can to help." Sean nodded.

Alon returned to Uther's private office.

Richard grinned at Sean. "He's sinking fast. Let's go to the salon where we can talk."