Page 57

“Can I see him?” I ask, still unable to believe that we’ve saved him.

Without a word, Inara helps me to my feet. As another wave of nausea hits me, I force deep breaths through my lips. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, my vision blurs, but Inara doesn’t say a thing, and I’m grateful. She could force me to stay in bed, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I can barely stand on my own, much less stand my ground.

Shuffling my feet over the cement floor, I lean heavily on Inara with every step as we cross the corridor. Tinted glass splits the large hall into small rooms on either side with sparse furniture other than old beds and small cupboards. Some rebels have already claimed the rooms as their own, leaving trinkets dear to them on the abandoned furniture. Other rooms are devoid of any inhabitant besides sand and dust.

The few minutes it takes to reach Valdus’s room exhaust me to my bones. My knees are ready to give out under me, and I use the wall to support me until I can feel the oblivion gnawing, clawing, ebbing at me. A tremble has settled in my muscles by the time we finally cross the threshold.

Our arrival could have woken a dead man, and Numair looks the part when he drags his tired gaze from his brother in arms. He’s on his feet in a second, replacing Inara and half-carrying me to the uncomfortable-looking chair he had occupied not a second ago.

While I try to calm my ragged breaths, Inara walks to a basin, picks up a wet towel and runs it over her son’s brow. His chest rises and falls in a constant rhythm. The ashen look has faded from his features. As Inara said, he looks much better than I do.

Once sure he has no fever, Inara fills a glass of water for me. I dare to wet my lips and even drink a mouthful before nausea comes crushing again. Numair leans on the door with his arms crossed over his chest, and Inara takes a seat at the foot of Valdus’s bed. She puts her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Tears choke her voice when she finally speaks. “Never ever do anything like that again.”

I set the glass down, battling tears of my own. “Would it be better if I’d let Valdus die?”

Numair curses. “Do you think this is a joke?”

I dig my teeth into my lip, and taste blood where the wound from Valdus’s knuckles reopens.

“I don’t,” I say. As pain ripples through my temples. “Do you think I could have stood by as he bled to death? He saved me from a life of misery. You all did. I’ll fight till my last breath for this cause.”

Numair shakes his head. “Rebel Princess, indeed.”

Inara curses, and I look at her wide-eyed. It is the first time I’ve heard her utter such words. Without a glance in my direction, she storms out of the room.

“She’s just tired. We all are. You were so far gone that we weren’t sure you would come back.”

Numair leaves the room to go find Inara, and silence wraps around me and eases my pain. I rest my head on the back of the armchair, counting Valdus’s breaths. Just until my head stops spinning, I tell myself.

When I open my eyes, shadows creep from every corner, battling with the fluttering light of a dozen candles set around the room. I jump up when I see Valdus looking at me. My head spins, and I grab the metal railing of the bed, fighting to stand upright.

“I see it’s a good thing I didn’t wake you.”

“How long have you been awake? Did Inara see you?” I shoot out my questions without waiting for an answer. “How are you feeling? Do you have a fever?”

“Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Any.”

“I feel great. Inara said I might even walk tomorrow.” With a sigh, he adds, “She said other things too, but she mentioned you were in a bad shape, so I will postpone yelling at you for now.”

I run my tongue over my busted lip. “I’m just happy you’re talking to me.”

Valdus glares at me, and I can tell the anger is still simmering under his skin.

Too soon for jokes then.

I fold myself back into the armchair that is much more uncomfortable than I ever thought possible and pick on the paint that had flaked from the railing of the bed and stuck to my sweaty skin. “What did Inara say?”

“That you almost killed yourself,” he exclaims.

“I thought you said no yelling.” I press my hands to my temples and add, “And it wasn’t like that.”

“Go ahead, tell me where I’m wrong.”

I point my finger at him. “You almost killed yourself. I just didn’t know how far I could go.”

“This feels like too far.”