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Opening the cabinet, I tuck the bottle back onto its shelf as the door opens.

“What are you doing?” Marge’s gaze narrows in on me.

“I...” Shit. I can’t even lie at this point. “I’m returning this.”

She hobbles over, raking me with a glare, and rips the bottle from my hands. “That’s not where that goes.”

I stiffen, waiting for her to insult or berate me. But she doesn’t. She slides the bottle back onto a different shelf.

She looks me up and down, her eyebrow raised. “You look a little disheveled this morning.”

I snort at her honesty. “Good morning to you too, Marge.”

“Ginger.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighs. “Ginger. It’s good for the morning fog.”

Even after I’ve finished the concoction she makes me, my head still pounds. My fingertips are uncomfortably swollen as I steady the broom in my hands and sweep the floors. I’m halfway through the healer’s quadrant when Marge turns to me.

“You’re dismissed for the day.”

“What? Why?” I glance down at the pile of dirt I’ve swept and all around me, expecting I’m making a bigger mess than I’m cleaning, and that’s why she wanted me out.

“Because you’re a bit lousy when you’ve had too much to drink the night before.” She shoos me along with a flicker of her wrist.

I open my mouth to reply, my cheeks heating.

She shakes her head. “You come back tomorrow. Fresh.”

“Okay,” I agree, hesitantly. “I’m sorry, Marge.”

She dips her head, and I leave the healer’s quadrant for my room.

Walking through the outpost, I pick out my angled roof stretching into the sky ahead, when a shadow sweeps straight toward me. Darian eyes me, his gaze picking me apart from head to toe.

I jut left to walk around him, and he mirrors my move. Pivoting, I move right instead, and he follows. What was supposed to be an easy, quick return to my room has become an awkward dance of steps and with someone I wouldn’t be particularly fond of dancing with. The first two instances I would have pinned as an accident. But with Darian, I know he’s toying with me.

Admittedly, I’m a bit too hungover to tolerate it, my self-discipline wearing thin. “Can you get the fuck out of my way?”

There’s that stupid, delirious tilt to his lips. “And what is the reason you’re insucha pleasant mood this morning?”

I growl through gritted teeth to keep myself from shoving him out of my way. “You’re aggravating—”

“—ly handsome?” He tilts his chin up, watching me.

“No. There was no continuation of that sentence.” I slide to the left, trying to inch around him.

But he slithers along with me, each step closer and closer. “Well, I can think of a way to fix both of our attitudes…”

“If it’s not fighting you, then I have no interest.” My shoulder clips his arm as I shove past him.

“How disappointing. I would have proposed a different ‘F’ verb,” he tosses over his shoulder.

I don’t even bother to look back. Instead, I raise my middle finger at him as I walk back to my room.

I managed to rest for a few hours until everyone gathered for sparring practice. My raging headache slowed to a more tolerable level. At sparring practice, Cole calls for volunteers, and Melaina rises first. I jump to my feet, eager to prove myself. Archie’s face sags in disappointment. But I know Melaina won’t take it easy on me. She also won’t fuck with me like Darian did.