I drop back to my knees beside Tally, my hand going to his chest. His heart is beating, slow and regular. My fingers linger for a moment before I pull them away.
“You’ve checked him over?” Layla asks.
“Sort of. What do you mean?”
Lay lets out a heavy sigh, the sound of a woman who has had to be the responsible one far too many times. “A physical exam, Barbs. We need to check for hidden injuries. Feel around his head for contusions, lumps, cuts, whatever.”
Right. I’m an idiot. I run my fingers through his short hair, searching for anything, but my fingertips come away clean. “Negative on the head injuries.”
“Good, now check his chest and belly.”
Tally’s jumpsuit is already unzipped, so I pull up his white tank and examine his torso. It’s a roadmap of new bruises and old scars—signs of a life lived on the edge. Thankfully, none of the injuries make Layla worried. “Where else should I look?” I ask her.
“Barbie, you are not truly this useless are you? Check everything. Is his skin cold or clammy?”
“No.” I glance up at her.
I am useless.
Layla purses her lips. “Roll him over and look at his back.”
Fuck. I brace myself and push. As I finally get him to turn, he groans again.
“His back looks alright,” Lay grunts in annoyance. “Pull up an eyelid, see if his pupil reacts to light.”
I wrangle Taliesin again. “Gods, Layla, he weighs a ton.” He’s probably twice my weight.
“Time you built up some muscle, Barbie. Pretty and petite doesn’t count for shit in the sub-levels.”
Sky actually lets out a tiny giggle from behind Layla’s shoulder. It’s a fragile sound, but I love to hear it.
“Yeah, yeah, Sky. I’d like to see you do this!” I give her a pretend stern look and she gives me a small smile in return, but I can tell the confidence she had regained is slipping away with the arrival of François. I imagine he reminds her closely of the many males she’s been subjected to.
Men who just take what they want.
After another few minutes Layla has exhausted every medical check she can think of. She’s as frustrated as I am. “Just keep trying to give him water. I’ll come by later to check in. Is Frenchie giving you a hard time?”
“Eh, not really.”
“That’s good, people are talking all kinds of shit about him. Like he must have some kind of superpower.”
I scoff at that. “His only superpower is being more annoying and arrogant than anyone else on the planet.” A little voice in my head questions that, but I ignore it.
Instead, I take the mug of coffee from the tray. It’s bitter and burned, but when the heat hits my throat, it tastes like ambrosia. “Gods, I never thought I’d find this stuff delicious.”
“Careful, Barbs,” Layla smirks, a flash of her old self returning. “You’re beginning to act like a Digger.”
The laughter her words provoke is interrupted by the arrival of François.
“Acting like a Digger? What a revolting thought.”
Layla and Sky both jump to their feet as he glides into the room. Sky instantly starts trembling, her knuckles white as she tugs on Layla’s sleeve. The frantic, animal terror in her eyes speaks volumes.
“You go,” I say quickly. “Speak to you later.”
Sky hurries out, but Layla gives François the stink-eye then indicates the jug she’d brought in. “Your water, m’lord. Fresh as can be found in this place.”
“Excellent,” he replies, his voice smooth as he settles back into the new chair. “You may leave.”
