Chapter Fifty-Eight: Woman in the Tower:

My wife changed since that day. The cheer and light were gone from her eyes. She wouldn’t let Nicky out of her sight. I wasn’t even allowed to hold him.

“I don’t want to lose him again,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose him!” I had never seen her like this. There were little hints. But now, it’s gotten louder. She’s neglected our other sons. They don’t know what’s going on with her.

“Why won’t mommy come out of her room?” Camon asked.

“She’s sick,” I lied. Those little eyes looked up at me. I was running out of ways to dodge their questions. I had to the one to take care of them and run the kingdom. At times like these, I think about retiring. My subjects wouldn’t let me though.

“Sweetheart,” I said, knocking on Madonna’s door. “Talk to me. What’s wrong? I need you.” I could hear weeping from inside the room. I tried to go inside once, but the door was locked. I had one of my subjects unlock the door with a key, but there was a barrier on the other side.

“Sweetheart!” I said. “Why are you doing this?”

“Leave me alone!” Madonna cried. I backed up with a confused look on my face.

“What?” I asked.

“You ruined my life!” she wailed. “I want to go home!” I slowly shook my head.

“No…” I said.

“Go away!” she screamed. From there, things got worse. Madonna wouldn’t leave her room. Her meals piled up in the hall untouched. I barely got to see Nicky. How long before she stopped caring for him too?

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” another one of my subjects asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m worried about my son.”

“But…” she said.

“Bette, please!” I pleaded. “I want my son!” Bette and rubbed her forehead.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” I said. I bowed my head.

“Right,” Bette said.

I followed her down the hall. I held my breath the whole time. My sons followed behind. Judas clung to my leg. I reached down and patted him on the head.

“It will be okay,” I whispered. I didn’t sound so convinced myself. We made it up to Madonna’s bedroom door. Bette walked up and knocked.

“Your highness?” she said. Just as predicted, we heard whimpering on the other side. Bette took breath and put her hand on the door. She started chanting to herself. The boys crowded around me. I patted Kamon and Judas on the heads.

“It’s going to be okay,” I insisted. That was more for me. My children stayed by me. Bette took a step back. The door slid open.

“There,” she said. I started to go inside.

“Hold it,” Bette said. I turned my head.

“I’ve only gotten through to the first layer,” she said. “There’s still work to be done. The best that I can do is work quickly enough to get your son.”

“How long will that take?” I asked.

“About ten minutes, give or take,” Bette said.

“Alright,” I said. She put up her hands and started chanting. I turned and looked forward. Madonna sat on her bed with Nicky held close to her chest. I could see that she had no emotion on her face. My son’s cries drove me to walk through the tunnel to him. Our sons tried to follow behind.

“Stay back!” I shouted. The children froze as I walked closer to their mother. Bette chanted faster.

“Sweetheart,” I said. “You don’t have to do this. This isn’t good. Come on. Let me take our son.” Madonna looked in time to see me with my arms out to our son. I reached for our son.

“No!” she cried.

“This has to stop,” I said. I managed to get Nicky into my arms, but she took him back.

“Let him go,” I said.

“No!” my wife wailed.

“Hand him over,” I said. “You aren’t taking care of him!”

“No!” Madonna screamed. Her voice was so loud that it shook the room. I sink to my knees, but I wasn’t going to give up. I had to do this for our son.

“Stop this!” I shouted. I reached forward and took Nicky out of her arms. I pushed myself to me feet and walked over to our sons. My wife broke down crying. By now, Bette had collapsed to the floor. I took one more look at Madonna before I walked out of the room.

It would only get worse.