Page 73 of Even Robots Die (Even Ever After #3)

Brice

W hen I wake up, my head is pounding but I don’t care.

Because wrapped against my side is Florentine, sleeping with her head on my chest.

I want to wake up like this every morning for the rest of my life—minus the headache, obviously.

I have no idea what time it is; all I know is that I don’t see any light around us. It must be the middle of the night and I try to remember what the doctor told me about my recovery. I’m supposed to sleep—more than I’m used to—and the medicine she gave me should have made it so.

I have a feeling that it didn't completely work.

If I had slept enough, the sun should be starting to rise already since we started the surgery later than anticipated.

I don’t know why I’m awake already.

I hear a buzzing sound on the small table right next to the head of the hospital bed I’ve been sleeping in.

The bed is small, but Florentine still managed to slip under the sheet with me.

I’m pretty sure she could fall at any moment, though, so I wrap my left arm around her as I fumble blindly for the holo buzzing on the table.

It’s mine. I had to remove it for the surgery, hence why I heard it and not felt it.

I look at the time. 2:11 am.

Who would be awake at that time?

I turn the volume to the minimum so as not to wake up Florentine—she’s barely slept since she started the preparations and she needs to rest—and listen to the message that woke me up.

It’s from Cassiopé.

“Dad, someone just delivered a package for Florentine. They refused to leave unless I opened it. It’s awful.

It’s a finger. I think it’s a pinky from what I managed to see before Léandre stored the box away.

The note that came with it says it’s from her father and that if she doesn’t come to exchange herself for him in twelve hours they’ll send something else. ”

The message was sent three minutes ago and Cassiopé was oddly calm but I shouldn’t be surprised; she was very much a book worm before I got kidnapped by the birds, but while I was in a coma, she decided to embrace the rage they had fanned inside of her and went to kill the source of all of her problems.

It didn’t kill all of our problems, though, or else I wouldn’t be here, in Blois, listening to a message about the woman I love needing to give herself away to save her—piece of shit—father.

She’s going to hate herself. I know it. She’s going to think it’s her fault if the birds have started to send pieces of her father, that she shouldn’t have slept and that they should already have made the trade, even though she knows the device she attached to her armored wings can only function under the sunlight.

She might hate me, too. We had three days to prepare and somehow we forgot that the first messenger came in the middle of the night and that meant we would lose a full night due to her need for the sun.

I should also acknowledge the fact that the heartless bastard that I am just said that I love Florentine, but I’ll leave that to when we’re all safe and sound and she’s not in any danger of being sent in pieces to me once she’s in the hands of the birds.

Twelve hours. We only have twelve hours before they send another piece of her father, and I have a feeling the finger was just a warning.

Anyone can live without a pinky, but I don’t think they’ll be sending a finger every twelve hours.

I wouldn’t put it past them to send something bigger next time. Say like the whole hand instead.

I start scratching my head before I remember that I’m not supposed to. The part when my scar was supposed to be itchy should have been while I slept. It’s probably the most annoying thing about being awake right now.

There are painkillers next to where my holo used to be. I grab one and swallow it without even drinking and set an alarm on my holo for the morning.

We just need a few more hours of sleep.

It’s awful that the birds sent Stephane’s finger in a box with another ultimatum, but it’s also a blessing—I’m not going to say that to Florentine, though, as much as I like to see her anger color her cheeks, I don’t want to piss her off anymore.

It is indeed a blessing, because Florentine wanted to wake up before the sun and start her plan immediately and go to Versailles at first light, but she’s exhausted.

Sleeping a couple hours extra won’t change a thing for her father now. We thought we had until the sun rises today, instead we have earned about six extra hours to be ready.

I settle back on the bed.

It’s tight fitting, but I don’t care. I hold Florentine close to me and try to calm my mind.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and I already know I’m going to hate every single second of it, but right now, I’m basking in the smell of Florentine and I squeeze her against me.

And I hope to hell that everything is going to be okay.