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She was never getting in. Certainly not without the assistance of the male before her.
Her head swam, and for a heartbeat, everything that she had done and still had to do weighed so heavily she could barely breathe.
“I need to go lie down,” she rasped.
The Autumn King didn’t stop her as she again turned toward her bedroom. Like he knew he’d won.
She strode in silence down the hall, steps muffled by the stone.
But not to her room. Instead, she walked all the way to Ruhn’s room, where she collapsed onto the bed. She didn’t move for a long while.
37
Ruhn’s life had become beeping machines and flickering monitors and an uncomfortable vinyl chair that served as both seat and bed.
He technically had a bed, but it was too far from this room. A few times, Flynn and Dec had come to sedate him and drag him there for a restorative treatment, as his hand was still recovering.
His fingers had formed again, but they were pale and weak. The medwitches had a small store of firstlight potions—a rarity on a ship where firstlight was banned and they relied on some sort of jacked-up bioluminescence to light everything—but Ruhn had refused them. Had demanded that they give every last drop to Lidia. His hand would heal the old-fashioned way. Whether he and Baxian would ever recover from the ordeal that had led to his hand being chewed off was another story.
But one he’d deal with later.
“Get some sleep,” Flynn said from the doorway, a cup of what smelled like coffee in hand. His friend nodded to the bed and wires and machines before Ruhn. “I can take watch.”
“I’m fine,” Ruhn rasped. He’d barely spoken since yesterday. Didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not even Flynn and Dec, though they’d come for him. Had saved him.
All because of this female before him.
While they’d been rebuilding what was left of her body, she’d flatlined twice. Even with the firstlight potion having healed the wounds to her heart. Both times, Ruhn had been sleeping in his own bed, halfway across the damned ship.
So he’d stopped leaving this room.
That there was anything left of Lidia at all was thanks to Tharion, whose cushioning plume of water had shielded her from the full impact of landing on the rocks—but the mer had still been far enough away that it hadn’t stopped her plunge entirely.
It didn’t matter though, because a hole as big as a fist had already been shot through her heart.
The hole was gone, healed now thanks to that rare, precious firstlight potion. And she had a functioning heart again, if the monitor marking every beat was any indication. Lungs: repaired. Ribs: rebuilt. Cracked skull: patched together. Brains stuffed back in.
Ruhn couldn’t stop seeing it. How Lidia had looked when Tharion had hauled her onto the Depth Charger. Her limp body. So … small. He’d never realized how much smaller she was than him.
Or what the world might be like without her living in it.
Because Lidia had been dead. When Tharion had carried her back from the coast, she’d been completely dead. Even her Vanir healing abilities had been overtaxed.
Something had broken in Ruhn at the sight of it. Something even Pollux and the Hawk and the Asteri’s dungeons hadn’t managed to reach.
So the ship’s medwitches had emptied their stores of firstlight potions on Lidia. Then Athalar had used his lightning to jump-start her heart, because even liquid miracles weren’t enough to get it beating again. Had used it three times now, because the crash cart had taken too long to fire up when she’d flatlined.
When Ruhn asked how he knew to try such a thing, the angel had muttered something about thanking Rigelus for the idea, and left it at that. Ruhn had been too relieved at the sound of Lidia’s thumping heart to ask more.
“Ruhn, buddy—you gotta sleep.” Flynn finally stepped into the room, dropping into the chair beside his. “If she gets up, I’ll call you. If she even moves, I will call you.”
Ruhn just stared at the too-pale female on the bed.
“Ruhn.”
“The last thing I said to her,” Ruhn whispered, “was that she was dead to me.”
Flynn blew out a breath. “I’m sure she knew you didn’t mean it.”
