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Unfortunately, the damn thing didn’t have a drop in it. It’s probably for the best. I don’t know enough about the magical substance to be sure it wouldn’t affect me in some way.
Lightly squeezing the empty waterskin, I fantasize about when Ellister will finally snap out of the condition he’s in. Then we’ll be able to find water and food.
I’m too scared to go off in search of it myself, so I’ve stayed near him, waiting.
Boredom eats away at me, and I consider taking yet another nap. I’ve been sleeping as much as I can to pass the time, but I’m not used to lying around so much.
After fluffing the lump of my folded jeans and bunched up shirt under Ellister’s head, I place my ear over his chest once again and let the steady thumping lull me to sleep.
I doze off quickly. It’s not a deep sleep, because I’m in that place between being awake and on the edge of a dream.
I might be hallucinating. I keep seeing rushing rivers and streams, but every time I try to reach out for the water, I’m yanked back to consciousness. It’s so frustrating.
“Hannah,” Ellister whispers. At first, I think it’s in my dream. Then it comes again, more insistent. “Hannah.”
I jerk as awareness comes back to me, and I glance at Ellister’s face. The eye that had been swollen shut is better, and he’s blinking with both eyes. His chest rises and falls with a breath.
The paralysis must be wearing off.
I sit up a little too vigorously, and that’s a bad idea. Bringing my hand to my pounding skull, I groan at the headache.
“Are you sick?” Ellister asks through gritted teeth, seeming unable to use his jaw yet.
“No. Just thirsty.”
“Your body feels very hot next to mine, and you were talking in your sleep.” His words are slurred because he doesn’t have full use of his lips and tongue yet. “You were having a fever dream.”
“Fever?” I touch my own cheeks, but they feel normal to me. “I don’t think so.”
“Hannah, if you’re ill, you need to tell me.”
“I’m not. Really. It’s just been a rough couple days, and it’s so fucking hot.”
Ellister’s chest fills with a deep inhale, and he quietly blows out, “Silly woman. The honey was supposed to be for you. Why did you use it on me?”
“I thought it could help you. Did it?” Yesterday, I spread the last of the honey on Ellister’s welts, and they do look better. Much less red and swollen. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to taste any of it, and I’ve been saving the honeycomb for when my hunger situation is really dire.
“Yes. The pain was excruciating until you put the honey on me. Relief was almost instantaneous.”
“Then I’m glad I did it. Can you move?” I take his fingers in mine, but they’re limp and malleable. “Seems not, but you’re breathing, so that’s great. Do you need to, like, go to the bathroom or something? I keep thinking you’ll eventually pee yourself, but you haven’t.”
“The paralysis shut down my organs.”
“Oh. Is that why you haven’t been sweating either?” I touch his forehead. It’s a normal temperature and completely dry.
“Yes.”
“Not gonna lie, it’s been scary to see you like this.”
“No worries, darling,” he reassures me. “Think of my condition as a sort of stasis. I’ve been perfectly safe this whole time, and I’ll come out of it preserved to the state I was in when I was stung.” He scans my face, and it’s so good to see his eyes moving again. Unable to pull an expression, he thins his lips into what I think is supposed to be a frown. “But you… you look awful.”
“Gee, thanks.” I self-consciously fluff my gauzy skirt.
The dress is still pretty, despite being a bit dirty. I took the jeans off once we found this place. My shoes and socks, too. Turns out, the see-through fabric is totally weather-appropriate.
“Your hair is damp and matted,” Ellister continues. “Your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are dry and cracked.”
I narrow my eyes, laying on the sarcasm when I say, “Please, do go on. This is incredibly charming.”
