Sleeping Beauty (Not Quite the Fairy Tale Book 7)(6)
That didn’t change the fact that yet another woman of her class was doing the whole husband-and-baby thing. She shouldn’t care; Aurora had her strengths, her career, her goals…
But damn, she was twenty-seven now, and after two epically bad engagements, she was more than ready for a successful relationship. Going to work, busting her ass off and being respected for it, mattered; she just also wanted to go home and have someone to chat with about her day. Someone who’d pour her a glass of wine and rub her feet. Someone who cared.
Especially after the horrible week she’d had.
“I may be wrong, dear, but you do seem on edge.”
That was one way of putting it. She’d been completely numb at first, but now, eight days after she’d heard the council’s verdict, anger had replaced the emptiness.
They’d said no. They’d said that if Hugo had issues with his eyes after only two years, it was more than likely that the King would not come through unscathed using the process they’d perfected. Never mind that Hook’s eyes had gone back to their original state within less than an hour.
To say that she was pissed off was an understatement, but there was nothing she could do about it, no one she could vent to.
Of course, she could have opened her mouth and complained to her two aunts, but she knew how little they liked drama, politics, and everything attached to Court. They’d just try to convince her to pack up and go live with them.
It wasn’t an option. Aurora couldn’t fathom being away from Court, away from her lab, from the King.
“I heard about the decision of the Council,” Aunt Fae added, dropping all pretenses.
Her mother’s sisters were free spirits, the kind of people who made their own jams and medicine; they despised Court, although they’d both started to visit when Aurora had been born – sporadically, perhaps three times a year, and always when she’d needed them. They’d made a trip only a week earlier – their return days after Aurora received the devastating verdict was no coincidence.
“I don’t know what to say, Aunt Fae. I gave them every proof, answered all their questions, and they said no. I’m tempted to go to the papers about this.”
She grimaced as she said it; journalists were the bane of her existence. They’d followed her around since she’d been a little girl, always in her shadow. But dammit, she’d do it if she thought it might make a difference.
“I have a question to ask you, puppet,” Aunt Petunia butted in. “I’ve had it in mind for quite a while, but you won’t like me for mentioning it. You’ve always played by the rules…”
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“What exactly stops you from reanimating our King right now?”
Aurora stared at her youngest aunt, completely dumbfounded, as the middle-aged woman with pink and jet black hair carried on, driving her point home.
“Let’s say you revived the King, without the Council’s authorization, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“It would be considered treason, Aunt Petunia. The Council says that reviving the King without the right technology is akin to murdering him. I would get banished, or worse.”
“Fiddlesticks. Of course, it would be quite another matter if you didn’t have the right technology, but you do. They might try to invent some sort of punishment for you, of course, but guess what? The King will be around to veto it.”
She bit her lips, appalled at the very prospect of doing something quite so unthinkable.
Turning to the wiser of the two sisters, she expected her to argue against Petunia’s point, but Fae sighed and just said one thing she should have long accepted.
“They’ll never authorize it, puppet. Not now, not in another hundred years.”
Chapter 5
Four Little Words
She waited until everyone was out of the lab, not wanting any of her colleagues to suffer for her decision.
Everyone worked harder, later than usual, enthused by the unexpected rebuff they’d received earlier that week, so it was well past eleven when she found herself alone.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Jenny made her promise. “Everything will still be right here tomorrow.”
No, it wouldn’t.
Aunt Petunia was right; the Councilmen – hell, even her father! – would want her skin for what she was about to do, but who cared? With the King there, they had no power.
Now she just had to make sure that he made it through in one piece if she didn’t want to end her days behind bars. Her last name wouldn’t be of much weight after treason of this magnitude.
No pressure.
Aurora filled the tube of plasma and ensured it wasn’t too warm. Room temperature would seem scorching at first; while his system would soon adapt, the King wouldn’t be ready for a sauna for a day or two. She set it at a temperature which would have been appropriate for a sensitive baby, and added some aloe to make it as soothing as possible.
She checked her supplies at least twice: a defibrillator, blood supply, towels, a robe, some pants, a shirt, a thermometer, anticoagulant gel, a drink next to a tablet full of vitamins. Various tubes connected to the machines checking on the King’s vitals were firmly in place.
Everything was ready. All that was left was for her to press one key on her computer and then there would be no going back.