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I stared back at her. “Did you fix it?”
Amelia rubbed her face, looking exhausted. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Somethinghappened. I just don’t know what.”
Chapter 15
Margo
A million pincer-armedcreatures were trying to dig a hole through to my brain. That was the only explanation for the searing pain in the back of my skull.
“She’s waking up,” an unfamiliar voice said.
I stiffened. I wasn’t at home, wasn’t in bed. That usually meant bad, awful, terrible things. I lay there for a moment, terrified to uncover the aftermath.
“Margo?” Dorian whispered.
I opened my eyes immediately to see his pensive expression too close to mine and realised he was basically cradling me. I backed up to get out of his arms, and my head collided with somebody’s chin.
“Ow,” a woman said.
I looked around, but I didn’t recognise the young woman rubbing her chin. She winced. “I think she’ll be fine.”
Those two weren’t the only ones in the room. Glancing around, I recognised Dorian’s guardians, but my vision blurred after them, and I had to rub my eyes as the pounding in my head only worsened.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked croakily. “Where am I?”
“In my house,” Dorian said. “You kind of fainted or something.”
“I fainted?” My cheeks burned. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Is she all right?” Mara asked. “Should we take her to the hospital? She’s scary pale.”
“She’s always scary pale,” Victor huffed.
Great. Of coursetheyhad to be there to witness my humiliation.
“I’m fine,” I said hurriedly. “Please don’t call my parents.”
“Too late,” Ms. Rivers said. “We had to let them know, Margo. I’m sorry.”
I cringed. “Dad’s going to act like a big girl about this. I should go home.”
“We’re going to give you a lift,” Nathan Evans told me. “Your parents are on their way home. We’ll meet them at your house.”
“Oh,” I said. “Okay, thanks.” I tried to remember what happened, but I couldn’t grip onto a solid memory. “I can’t even remember getting here,” I admitted.
“You came to see Dorian, we think,” the woman I had loafed said. She was stunningly beautiful, rocking olive toned skin that had deepened to a bronze tan the models in my magazines would be envious of. I could have sworn I saw her in a dream, but her eyes were a soft, mild brown now, and the silver eyes burning through me before had been impossible.
The mist shifted in my head, and fragments of memory began to pull free of the haze. I had been angry about my father, but that had been an excuse. I had been drawn to Dorian’s house like a moth to a flame. I’d been halfway there before I even realised I’d left my own house. Had I slept? Could people sleepwalk while awake? I wasn’t alert enough to sort through the jumble of thoughts that followed that question.
“Can you stand?” Dorian asked.
My backside was planted on somebody’s living room rug. “Oh.” My cheeks warmed.
“Come on.” Dorian reached for my hands. I jerked away from his touch, and my face grew hotter. “I’ll help you up.” This time, he held out his hands.
I stared at his palms for a second before accepting his help, wincing because I half-expected him to drop me as soon as he touched my cold hands. But I was on my feet, and he was looking at me, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Are you all right to walk?”
My knees were shaky, but I felt okay. I nodded, embarrassed by the scrutiny of all those in the room.
