Page 17 of Consume Me

“I want to speak to the king. He would never allow this.” It was a test.

“Who do you think ordered you here?” She failed it entirely. There was no circumstance under which Alexander would have sent him to be confined to a hospital. But she wasn’t through digging her grave. “You’re being held on suspicion of conspiracy.”

“Conspiracy of what?” He asked quietly. He was running out of time. His hand was beginning to pound.

“Kidnapping, to start,” she said. “Attempted murder.”

Soon, there would be a real reason to hold him for murder. When he managed to get free, no one would stand in his way.

“I’ll send someone in to attend to your hand.” She trailed an icy finger along the spot where he’d broken the bone. Norris bit back a yelp. “We’re not stupid, Mr. Norris. We’re aware of your particular skills.”

He didn’t bother to comment. If he was stuck here, he might as well get as much information from her as possible. “And the Queen? Is she safe?”

That was all that really matted. If he was being held on conspiracy charges that would be sorted out soon enough. No matter what danger he was in, his family was his primary concern.

She leveled a long look at him. “Why don’t you tell us?”

Chapter 7

CLARA

The bright lights and white walls felt familiar and safe—I knew I was anything but. On the other side of the unlocked door, I found myself in a standard hospital wing. I felt like Alice falling through the rabbit hole. Nothing was what it seemed here. Not that I had any idea where here was. But regardless of the lights and busy clinic, I knew I wasn’t safe. There were no windows and every door locked behind me.

There were more people here, though no one looked my way as I passed in my too-small clothes. No one seemed at all interested in my presence. I was a ghost gliding among the living—unseen, unnoticed, uninteresting. I tried to take in small details—the man in the lab coat testing a vial of blood, a series of numbered rooms with tinted glass doors, an empty bed being wheeled by—but there was nothing remarkable about any of it. Its mundanity made it all the more chilling. This could be any clinic if not for the fact that it connected to an anonymous prison and that I hadn’t walked in here of my own volition. Then there were the people—presumably, doctors and nurses—did they know I’d been taken? Was everyone here in on my disappearance?

And why? It always came back to that one question: why?

“The doctor will be with you in a moment,” June told me as she waved a badge over a card reader and showed me into a room.

Before she had waited until someone unlocked a door. Here, that badge was like waving a magic wand.

She pointed to the exam table and a folded cloth resting on it. I picked it up—it was such an ordinary, familiar thing: a cotton hospital gown. It didn’t match with my circumstances. The last time I’d changed into one of these I’d been waiting for my doctor with my best friend by my side.

I fingered the worn fabric, stomach churning as I realized it had been washed many times. What was this place? Maybe none of this was real. Maybe I was trapped in a nightmare.

“Please change into that. I’ll see that some clothes are delivered to you. Obviously, someone forgot to see that your quarters were stocked properly.” She drew a curtain down the center of the room and waited on the other side.

Her attitude only made things worse. Cheerful, kind—it was as though none of this was wrong. They’d kidnapped me, held me captive, and now I was being treated like…like…

I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know what I was—something between a guest and a prisoner. I wasn’t free to go but I wasn’t being treated poorly. The rumble of my stomach reminded me I wasn’t being treated well, either.

“Can I get something to eat?” I asked, rubbing my belly.

“Oh, you poor duck, of course. After the tests. It’s necessary for you to be in a fasting state,” she explained, taking the ill-fitting garments from me. She handed me a cup and pointed to a bathroom.

I knew exactly what to do. I’d done it dozens of times before, but I couldn’t continue to pretend this was normal. I wanted answers. I wanted reassurances. I wanted my husband.

“What are they going to do?” I asked, panic finally winning out. “What are they going to do to my baby?”

“Don’t you worry about that. You’re in good hands,” she said calmly. “Everyone deserves the best care no matter what they’ve done.”

Her words stole my breath for a moment. “Done?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t have access to more than your medical file, Miss Bishop,” she said, “but a woman gets sent here for a reason.”

“Where is here?” I felt like a scratched record, repeating the same line over and over, jolting with each skip. “Do you know who I am?”

“Clara Bishop,” June said, blinking. She cocked her head and studied me for a moment as though diagnosing me.