up quickly, focusing my thoughts with all my strength. I grabbed for my phone and typed: “find hamlet.” My thumb hovered over the Send button momentarily before I punched it.
I gripped my phone hard and stared at it, waiting for a reply. Helicopters were circling the castle by that point and, from the sound of it, they were over the hospital as well.
“Answer, damn it,” I muttered. I tapped my feet to try to keep my legs from shaking. I opened and shut my phone as if that would make something happen.
My phone binged and I jumped. A text message:
Keren: What’s going on?
Another bing.
Justine: King dead?
And another.
Lauren: OMG
And another.
Sebastian: U ok?
I couldn’t deal with my friends’ questions, so I hit Ignore over and over and paced.
My phone rang and when I saw Horatio’s name I flipped it open so fast, I almost dropped it. “You got my message?”
“Yeah. How did this happen?” Horatio was shouting. He sounded like he was running.
“I don’t know. Are you with Hamlet?”
“No, the royal guards grabbed him out of class. He’s on the helicopter already.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. I can’t believe this.”
“Me eith—” I fought away tears so I could ask, “Where are you?”
“Running to one of the cars. Officer VanDerwater said I could ride along if I hurried. Ophelia, try to meet him at the hospital.”
“I don’t know if they’ll let me in.”
“Oh please,” he said skeptically.
“I’ll try. Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Same. Later.” He hung up.
I ran for my room and grabbed my bag and keys. Stopping to turn off the television, I noticed that the streets were blocked all around the hospital and the castle. No point in getting my car or even a driver.
I pushed the elevator button. The first time it stopped, it was packed with very angry-looking faces. “No room!” someone shouted before pushing the Door Close button. The next time, it was equally crowded, but at the front stood Marcellus, who was Hamlet’s bodyguard everywhere but Wittenberg, as he was too old to blend in at college. He reached around the people in front of him and pulled me in. Everyone jostled impatiently to make space.
After being shoved into its midst by the crowd behind me, I stood in the lobby slightly disoriented by the sheer volume of people. The common area was full of workers who made the castle run but who suddenly had nowhere else to be. Some were crying; some were talking on cell phones; some were staring blankly at the flat-screen TVs.
“Come with me,” offered Marcellus. “We’ll have to run, but I can get you into the hospital.”
“Thanks,” I squeaked out through my clenched throat, checking to be sure I still had my phone in my pocket. I wanted to text Hamlet, but I resisted the urge to do so.
Marcellus’s uniform caused everyone lingering in the castle lobby to move out of his way, and we were out in the air sooner than I could have hoped. I was in shape, but he ran five miles a day and it showed. As he sprinted down the street, I struggled to keep pace with him.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked, trying not to sound too winded, afraid he’d slow down or, worse, leave me behind.
“Maybe a heart attack. Maybe a stroke. Sudden was all we heard.”
He grabbed my arm and tugged me in the opposite direction of the cameras, down three blocks, and around to the back entrance of the hospital. A guard waved us inside and we ran for the elevator.
The hospital had an eerie stillness about it. Everyone was standing around various televisions watching the latest emergency report. Nothing had changed since this had all begun, and yet the people acted as if staring would alter the outcome or make something happen. Running had kept my mind free, but once we stopped, thoughts of the king tugged at me. Images of his kind face rushed through my head, and his laugh seemed to echo in the silence. I pressed my fingers to my eyes to keep the tears in.
Marcellus and I got into the elevator, which was antiseptic and cold. The only sound was our panting as we tried to catch our breath. I felt sweat trickling down the small of my back, so I dried it with my shirt. A gentle ping announced our arrival at the tenth floor, the one reserved for the king and his family, whatever the cause.
As we emerged, a door opened midway down the