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“Thanks,” he said, taking the bottle. “Like I look, it would seem.”

Zeke put his hand on his stomach when it gurgled. “Was Maelia that bad?”

Ezra looked at Zeke and shook his head. “Not more than usual.” He rested his head against the sofa and closed his eyes.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Fatigued. Nauseated. The worst is the mild vertigo whenever I move too fast.” He opened his eyes. “Maelia took advantage of that. As she should. We need to be prepared to fight even when we’re not in peak condition.”

Now that I looked closer, I noticed the dark circles under Ezra’s eyes and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead even after a shower.

I turned my attention to Cyn. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You don’t feel sick or anything?”

“I threw up a couple times yesterday, but I’m fine today.”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot, though,” Zeke said.

Since we returned home, I’d spent most of my time napping and feeling awful. Even with faster healing, I hated vomiting, so I took medicine and slept at the first sign of intense nausea. If I slept through a day or two, I could usually avoid the worst.

I thought depression explained my lethargy after what happened with Rae, but seeing the others sick gave me pause.

I sighed. “I thought my nausea came from getting used to the food here after eating on Earth.”

Zeke turned his attention to me. “You’re sick too?”

“Little bit.” I glanced at Ezra as he pressed his fingers into his eyes, elbow braced on the sofa arm. “Why don’t you go to bed? We can talk later.”

The thought that crossed my mind needed addressing, but I didn’t enjoy seeing Ezra suffer. He needed rest.

Zeke stole our attention before Ezra could answer me. “Cyn? What’s wrong?”

Cyn jumped up from the sofa and bolted down the front hall. The sound of retching echoed from the bathroom doorway.

We sat in silence until he returned.

“I’m not eating until this passes,” he groused. “That sandwich came right up.” He climbed onto the sofa and rested his head on Zeke’s lap.

Zeke toyed with his hair, watching him.

“What the hell did we eat to be this sick? Shouldn’t it be over?” He rubbed his face against Zeke’s thigh and groaned. “Earth food has never made me sick before, except that one time I ate that awful-smelling fruit.”

“Durian,” Ezra said.

“Whatever the name. It tasted fine, but the smell made me sick.”

Settling back on the sofa, I realized I needed to address things before our condition worsened. “Are we sure it’s the food that caused this?”

Zeke looked at me. “What else could it be?”

“Bondrot.”

All eyes landed on me.

Now that I’d uttered the vile word, I needed to explain.