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I can’t even explain how much I fucking hate it.
It’s yet another reminder that both Celine and I are just pawns in this game. The pain is personal. And that cuts deeper than it should.
Maybe it’s because this is the first moment of quiet I’ve had in hours, but I can feel the exhaustion taking my body hostage. I’m not sure what’s keeping me on my feet, but it feels treacherous, as though the strings holding me upright are going to snap at any moment.
“You need to rest,” he says, reaching for me.
“Don’t!” I cringe away from his hands. “Don’t touch me.”
But even as I say it, I wobble forward and nearly crash to the earth. The only reason I don’t is because Ilarion grabs me, his arms caging me against him, forcing me to surrender to the fact that I’m too weak to fight him off.
“Taylor,” he whispers in a voice so soft that I’m wondering if I imagined it.
I look up and find myself caught by those cloudy blue eyes. I get lost in them for a moment. I lose myself to relief that I’m okay. Relief thathe’sokay. Relief that at the very least—we can be here, together.
I hate how good it feels to be caught in his arms. I hate how good it feels to have someone strong to lean into.
But his strength is not mine to benefit from. His comfort is not mine to take. It belongs to my sister. And she’s lying on a fake hospital bed somewhere upstairs, unconscious and bleeding from the head.
I shake my head and push myself off him. “You should be with Celine right now,” I remind him. “Not me.”
He doesn’t miss the bite in my tone, the thinly veiled accusation. “I need to make sure you and the baby are alright, too.” It’s a reminder that his concern is not for me alone.
I shouldn’t care.
I don’t.
I can’t.
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll let Dr. Baranov be the judge of that. Come with me.” His expression hardens when I stay put. “If you don’t come willingly, I’ll be forced to carry you. I don’t think either of us want that.”
I grit my teeth and nod. Satisfied, he turns and leads us into the house and up to the second floor. I’ve never been up here. The floor is wide and open, except for one annex sealed off from the space. The subtle printed wallpaper bears the geometric pattern of mountaintops crowding into the sky.
Through the windows of the annex, I spy what I have to admit is a stunningly well-equipped hospital room.
I can just make out Dr. Baranov through the glass. He’s not alone. It looks like there are two nurses with him, maybe more. Machines beep and chime and chug along like breathing animals in the background.
Mila is standing off to one corner, biting her nails like I used to do as a kid. Seeing it draws the instinct to my fingertips and it takes all of my willpower to stop myself from falling off the wagon.
She drops her hand from her mouth when she sees us. The moment I take a look at her, the tunnel vision abandons me completely. It’s like my ears popping after a plane ride.
I can hear. I can see. I can think.
“She’s stable,” Mila says when she sees me looking. “For now.” But that’s all she offers, even though her clenched jaw and gray pallor suggests there’s a lot more left unsaid.
I frown. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She glances past me at her brother, whose presence I can feel looming behind my shoulder like a shadow I never wanted or asked for. “That’s not for me to say. Dr. Baranov will be out here in a moment. I’m sure he’ll explain everything.”
“If she’s dead, Mila, just tell me.”
“She’s not dead.” Again, she doesn’t elaborate. “I’ll give you two some space.”
She turns and leaves. The moment I hear the door shut, I turn to Ilarion. “She’s wrong to trust you,” I hiss, letting out the words I’ve been holding in since Celine yelled at me to stop.
“She made it very clear how she feels.”
