Upon summoning Atlas’s main caretaker to the palace, it was determined that the king was fine. Dr. Emett assumed he had just worked himself up too much and needed to calm down, so he issued an order for the monarch to take a nap and returned to the hospital to continue his work with other important patients. Meanwhile, Jacob stayed behind to make sure Atlas followed the direction to rest.

At first, Atlas fought him on it, insisting that he needed to stay awake so he would be ready to leave the instant the hospital called to let them know that Caspian was out of surgery. However, with some pushing from the guard, he finally gave in and laid down in his bed, falling asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. Jacob stayed with him even after he passed out, taking up the armchair by the window and scrolling idly through his phone to pass the time. He wasn’t much of a fan of social media, never having the time to keep up with a digital presence when he spent every waking minute working, but he did find an interesting virtual novel to read. Glossing over a few chapters gave him something to do for the next few hours, during which he waited for the signal that it was time to leave the palace.

Around five o’clock, his phone finally chimed with a call from an unknown number, and he lifted the device to his ear. “Hello?” he said, stifling a yawn. Sitting around for so long had made him feel lethargic.

[i]Mr. Curry, His Highness has just been released from the operating room. The surgery was successful. He’s still under the effects of the anesthesia, but you’re welcome to come back if you want to be here when he wakes up.[/i]

“Thank you,” Jacob replied, stretching his legs and getting up from the chair. “I’ll be there shortly with King Atlas. He wants to see his son as well.”

There was a brief pause before the nurse asked, [i]Is he… aware of the situation? His Highness is stable, but visually, it’s obvious that he’s been through quite a bit of trauma.[/i]

Jacob found the question somewhat amusing. It seemed like everyone and their mother was aware of their king’s infamous temper. He could tell the nurse was worried that he would snap at the sight of the prince in poor condition. “I filled him in already, and I’ll be with him there entire time if possible,” he assured her.

[i]That’s good.[/i] He could hear her sigh in relief on the other end of the line. [i]Well, when you get here, head straight to reception. They’ll direct you to Prince Caspian’s room.[/i]

“I will, thank you,” Jacob lowered the phone and tapped the button to end the call. Turning toward Atlas’s sleeping figure, he stepped over to the bed. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just received a call from the hospital. The prince is out of surgery.”

--

The ride to the hospital didn’t take long. Atlas was impatient to get there even though Jacob had already told him Caspian wasn’t awake yet, so they took his private hovercar. On the way, the guard received another call from the penitentiary—the first since he’d received word that their newest prisoner was refusing to talk. Apparently the interrogators weren’t quite sure how to approach her because she was unresponsive to everything they had tried. They were reluctant to resort to violence outright, both doubting the effectiveness of the method and hesitant because of her gender, and wanted to know what he thought they should do. He told them that they could do whatever they wanted as long as it was within humane parameters. Of course, their efficacious drug, Aproveset, was mentioned, to which Jacob agreed that if nothing else worked, they were cleared to use it to get results.

Throughout the conversation, Atlas was uncharacteristically distant. Usually, the king didn’t hesitate to give his opinion on a problem, but even though he was within earshot of the entire discussion, he didn’t respond to any of it. By the time Jacob ended the call, he studied his monarch contemplatively. It seemed that until Atlas was able to see his son again, he had no interest in focusing on anything else.

So, when they finally arrived at the hospital, Jacob led him into the building and up to the reception desk as quickly as the ill king could manage. The man behind the counter greeted them by standing and bowing his head, as was customary when one was in the presence of their ruler. “Welcome, Your Majesty,” he said congenially. “Are you here for Prince Caspian?”

“I believe you already know that I am,” Atlas replied impatiently. “Where is his room?”

The receptionist faltered at the hostile edge of the king’s tone, his smile wavering ever so slightly. “Fifth floor, room 509,” he answered, reaching under the desk and retrieving a set of lanyards, which he offered to the two to take. “You’ll need these to access the elevator, since it’s a restricted floor.”

Atlas merely grunted in response as he snatched one of the cords, not bothering to put it on before he turned to limp down the adjacent hallway. Jacob took his as well with a wordless nod to the receptionist and quickly followed the monarch to the elevator. When the metal doors opened, they stepped inside, and the guard swiped the card on the end of his lanyard against the code reader before pressing the button for the fifth floor. A light glowed green, signaling their approved access, and the elevator ascended to the designated level.

As they approached the room where Caspian had been transferred, Jacob could feel the king growing more restless at his side. It wouldn’t be much longer before he was reunited with his only son whom he’d thought he’d lost forever. Keeping Atlas in the corner of his eye, he stepped forward to take the handle of the door in his hand and gave it a twist, pulling the panel open and heading inside.