“Right this way, Your Majesty,” the nurse at the desk said as she led him and Brutus into Dr. Horton’s
office. “Please take a seat,” he reached around until he felt the chair. Sitting down, he told Brutus to lay
down, and he did so at Nicholas’ feet. He heard the nurse’s footsteps as she left the room, and then he
heard Dr. Horton come into the room.
“Your Majesty,” He heard the doctor’s voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Same as always.”
“Have you been eating?”
“Yes,” not that it made him feel any better. It had been five days since he’d seen Dr. Horton, and he had
been violently ill every day along with terrible headaches, cramping in both his stomach and muscles.
“Good to hear. Well, I scheduled the ultrasound for a week from Monday.”
“That is not why I am here.”
“Oh, then why are you here?” Dr. Horton asked with interest.
“My eye,” he said. “There has to be something, anything we can do to restore my vision. I have heard
that sometimes an organ transplant can help the blind see.”
“Well, yes, that is true.”
“Then let’s do that.”
“It is not that easy, Nicholas. There is nothing wrong with your eyes. The organ itself is fine and healthy.
The problem is the large tumour pressing on your optic nerve. So long as that tumour exists, you will
not see. And as it grows, it will only restrict your vision more.”
“Then, cut it out.”
“I cannot. I told you the location of the tumour in your brain has rendered it inoperable. I cannot cut it
out without lobotomizing you.”
“There must be something we can do. There is always something. How do you treat inoperable
tumours?”
The room was quiet, at the doctor thought. “Well, if you are willing, we can try chemotherapy. With
radiation treatment, it might be possible to shrink the tumour, and if we can make it small enough, it
might reduce the pressure on the nerve and possibly restore your vision.”
“Alright, let’s try that,” Nicholas said.
“I must warn you there are side effects. Such as fatigue.”
“I am already fatigued.”
“Loss of appetite and nausea,” Nicholas shrugged. He already suffered that daily. “Digestive problems,
dry or sore throat or mouth, cough or shortness of breath, dry/red or itchy skin, and even hair loss.”
“Yes, I am sure it is going to be miserable,” Nicholas said. “When do we start?”
***
“You did what?” Kinsley asked in disbelief as she sat next to Nicholas at the table. Matthew was trying
not to smile. Nicholas had just told the whole family at dinner that he had gone and agreed to
chemotherapy in an attempt to reduce the tumour in his brain that was causing his blindness.
Everyone was concerned about the side effects and how Nicholas would weather them. Personally,
Matthew was giddy about the whole idea. The chemotherapy would mask the side effects of the poison
he was slipping his brother. He was already showing symptoms, but as anticipated, the blame was
placed squarely on his illness.
While Nicholas was eating more than he used to, he still ate very little, so slipping the poison in his food
was not smart. But Matthew had taken to sharing a drink with Nicholas after dinner each night. They
talked about the future and how Nicholas was feeling. It was all a trick giving Matthew the opportunity
to poison his brother’s bourbon. After drinks, Nicholas would retire to his room, and so would Matthew.
His room was right next to his brothers, and listening to Nicholas get violently ill all night was like music
to Matthew’s ears. Now, this Chemotherapy was like icing on the cake. It honestly could not be any
more perfect.
“Dr. Horton says that with radiation treatments, the tumour might shrink and relieve the pressure on my
optic nerve. I might get my vision back,” Nicholas said.
“Radiation might also kill the healthy cells around the tumour,” Kinsley said. “Nicholas, you are talking
about irradiating your brain. You could end up doing more damage than good.”
“Kinsley is right,” Samuel said, supporting her. “I do not think it is worth the risk.”
“I thought you all wanted me to seek treatment?” Nicholas snapped.
“We do, but not if it is going to be risky like this,” his mother said. “It is not worth the risk.”
“If I do not try this, I am going to be blind for the rest of my life,” Nicholas snapped.
“Being blind is not that bad, Nicholas,” Naya said.
“Says the woman who can see,” Nicholas growled.
Kinsley took his hand. “Nicholas…”
“Kinsley,” he stopped her short, “I want to see my bride,” he had effectively silenced her protest and
made her cry. Matthew could not help but feel this was a reference to a previous conversation he had
not been privy to.
“Personally, I think it is a wonderful idea,” Matthew piped up. “I support your brother.”
“Thank you, Matthew,” Nicholas returned. Matthew smiled. Honestly, this was too easy. The throne was
as good as his.
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