Page 128 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Just tell me,” I rasped.

“It was a brain bleed. A fairly minor one, thankfully. They got you out of that arena and into surgery so fast. But it still damaged your visual cortex.”

The arena. She’d been there. “You’re in Paris.”

“I told you. I’ll always come for you.”

“Petya? The press conference?”

“He’s dead. Your uncle’s gone for good.” Her hand slid up my arm and onto my chest. “And Yury, or whatever his actual name is, is in custody for assaulting Silas Whittaker, and because it turns out, ears are sort of like fingerprints, huh? Makes it easier to catch internationally wanted criminals.”

I could barely make out the shape of her pink lips, but I heard the relieved smile in her voice.

“Learned that from one of your documentaries.”

“You spoke up. You found out what was going on, and you used the dozen of cameras trained on you. You spoke up against your uncle.” Her fingertips feathered over my temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I should have done that much sooner. We wouldn’t-”

“No, you don’t get to do that.Wedon’t blame ourselves anymore for the things they put us through and the people we’ve become because of them. We just move forward now.”

“Who’sthey?”

Cordelia was saved from replying when the door clicked open again.

“Mr. Montgomery, my name is Dr. Pelletier, it’s nice to officially meet you.” Just like the nurse, I couldn’t make out the doctor until she stepped up beside the bed. She was a blur or beige and white from head-to-toe, but it seemed like she was flipping through my chart. “How are you feeling?”

For a while - it could have been thirty minutes or three hours - I answered questions, got tested and examined, and listened to the same medical bullshit over and over again. Even with the promise of some improvement over the next couple of weeks, it all boiled down to this:

Brain, permanently fucked.

When my eyelids got too heavy to keep open, they told me to rest as if I had a choice in the matter. My body was forcing me to.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the mattress dipped under Cordelia’s weight. She arranged my arm to drape around her shoulders as she snuggled in, head on my chest. It felt like a routine move, and it took me a second to realize that shehadroutinely been sleeping like this. I’d felt her next to me before waking up.

“How long have I been out?”

“Four days. Your cousins have been on food delivery duty and the nurses feel sorry enough for me to keep bringing me tea. Apparently there’s a rumor that I’m pregnant.”

“And my uncle’s really dead?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “I shot him. If anyone asks, it was Luka. But I shot him, so I know that he’s really, very dead.”

“Cordelia-”

“You should rest now. The doctor told you to rest. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

I wasn’t getting a choice, neither from her, nor from my weak brain pulling me into a deep slumber before I could utter another word.

“You knew?”

“Uhm,” Cordelia sucked in a breath, “for the last few days, yes. Luka told me right before coming here.”

It was easier to tell with daylight streaming through the windows, how she turned her head back and forth between Luka and me. I couldn’t read her expression but I could still see her perfect storm blue eyes. “Okay.”

“I told you, I owe you more than a fucking car. I’ll owe you for the rest of our lives. Well, the rest of your life. Looks like you’ll drop dead way before me, bro.”

“Shut up,” Cordelia hissed and whipped around.