17. Jasmine

17

JASMINE

J asmine stepped out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from the shower, and changed into a comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized blouse that was still nice enough for an informal celebration. The pair of low-heeled mules would make the outfit a little more festive, but that was as far as she was willing to go in preparation for the party.

She was exhausted from the trip, her anxiety over the prince, and the drama of breaking up with Edgar.

Nevertheless, she was sufficiently energized to make a run to the clinic and check on the prince's progress. Bridget hadn't called, so there was no change, and he was still unconscious. However, Jasmine wanted to see if they had successfully taken him out of the stasis chamber and transferred him to the hospital bed.

Hopefully, the doctors hadn't broken anything or caused him additional damage in the process.

She couldn't shake the image of his emaciated body, the way his skin stretched taut over his bones—looking gray, dry, and brittle. She couldn't even imagine what he looked like when he wasn't starved and on the verge of death.

"I'm going to check on the prince," she told Gabi, the only one in the living room.

"Don't be long," Gabi said. "We have a party to prepare."

"I won't. He's still unconscious, so it's not like I'm going to stay around and chat." Jasmine forced a smile and opened the door.

As she exited the elevator on the clinic level, the clicking of her mules echoed in the empty hallway, making her regret her choice of footwear. She didn't want to announce her presence.

When she entered the clinic, the doors to the prince's room and Bridget's office were closed, and only the door to the princess's room was open. Jasmine peeked inside and wasn't surprised to see that the doctors hadn't removed her from the stasis chamber yet.

Morbid curiosity propelled her to look into the open chamber, and as she'd expected, the princess looked as skeletal as her brother. Still, it was easy to see that she was a female, even in her emaciated state. The bone structure was more delicate, and she was smaller.

As the door in the next room opened, Jasmine rushed out to catch whoever was there before they closed it.

"Doctor Bridget," she called out when she saw the red ponytail on the woman leaning over the hospital bed.

Evidently, they had moved the prince.

Bridget turned around. "Oh, hi, Jasmine. What can I do for you?"

"I just came to see how he was doing."

Bridget straightened and let out a breath. "As you can see, we moved him and hooked him up to the equipment."

An intravenous feeding tube was attached to the back of his hand, and various monitoring equipment was showing stats that Jasmine didn't know how to interpret. She could tell that things were working, though, and that they were steady.

"Is he going to make it?"

Bridget shrugged. "His body will, but I can't guarantee that his mind will as well. He's still unconscious, but he's stable."

Jasmine nodded, her gaze drifting to the prince's face. Even in his weakened state, his features had a regal quality.

He was so still, his chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath.

"Are you going to stay here overnight?" she asked the doctor.

Bridget nodded. "Julian and I will stay in the keep for as long as the twins need us." She smiled. "My mate is used to sleeping with me on a hospital bed."

Jasmine swallowed. "You can take over my room. I can sleep on the couch in the living room."

Bridget smiled. 'Thanks for the offer, but I want to be near my patients."

"If you change your mind, just come up to the penthouse."

"It's okay." Bridget walked over to her and clapped her on the back. "This is the life of a physician, and I love what I do." She walked Jasmine to the door. "Go. Celebrate with your team." She opened the door and gently shoved her out.

"I'll come back tomorrow morning."

"Of course. Good night, Jasmine." Bridget closed the door.

With a heavy heart, Jasmine made her way back to the penthouse. As she entered, she found Margo, Frankie, Gabi, and Ella already hard at work, setting out platters of food and arranging bottles of various liquors on the kitchen counter.

They looked so full of energy and excitement, their immortal bodies needing much less rest than her human one.

Jasmine felt a pang of envy at their energy and high spirits. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a week or at least one full day.

Ella turned to her. "Hi. How is the prince?"

"They moved him to the bed, and they are feeding him intravenously." Jasmine pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I guess it doesn't matter what his diet is for that, and they are only feeding him liquids."

Ella nodded. "Some things are universal."

"Is Edgar back?" she asked.

"Nope," Margo said. "Haven't seen him."

Jasmine wondered where he had gone. His things were still in the bedroom they had shared before the mission, so she knew he was coming back to collect them, and he had also promised her that he would be back for the party.

The prospect of not seeing him again triggered a pang of regret. Letting him go had been the right thing to do, but that didn't make the separation any easier. She still craved his company.

The prince was an unknown, and things might not take off between them, while with Edgar, she knew where she stood. If she were smart or a little less principled, she would have stayed with Edgar until she knew whether the prince was an option. As the saying went, it was better to have one bird in the hand than two up on the branch or something like that.

She smiled as her mind conjured an image of Edgar and the recovered prince sitting in a tree with their feet dangling below. Maybe they could be friends, but she doubted that.

The doorbell ringing startled Jasmine out of her reverie, and as she turned to see who was at the door, she expected it to be Edgar, but Margo's squeal of happiness indicated otherwise. Margo liked Edgar, but not that much.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Jasmine put down the glasses she was carrying to the table and walked over to the entryway to see what all the fuss was about.

Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw Mia, standing on her own two feet with Toven beside her. He was holding a large bag in one hand and extending the other towards his mate, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

"Your legs," she murmured like an idiot. "You are standing."

Mia's small feet were encased in a soft pair of slippers, and she walked inside with a hesitant but determined gait.

The regeneration process of her legs had been long and arduous, taking many months, but it was finally complete, and Mia was walking on her own two feet.

It was a miracle. Possible only because she had turned immortal.

Frankie started crying, and Margo quickly followed suit. Then, the three friends clutched each other in a fierce embrace, all of them shedding happy tears.

Jasmine felt her eyes well up as she watched them sharing this incredibly happy moment with Mia, celebrating her victory. The trio were more than just friends; they were more like sisters, and Jasmine envied their closeness.

All she had were two hostile stepbrothers, her manager, and her friendship with Margo. The rest of her so-called friends were fellow actors she'd met during the various productions she had participated in over the years. Those relationships could not compare with that of the three childhood friends.

Gabi came up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I love happy endings, don't you?"

Jasmine nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "Who doesn't?"