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He didn’t know what woke him. Whether it was some hitch in the machine or some shift in the cadence of her breathing, but … a stillness went through him. He cracked his eyes open, sore and gritty, and looked to the bed.
Lidia still lay unconscious. Ghastly pale.
Lidia.
No answer. Ruhn leaned over his knees and rubbed his face. Maybe he could crash on the tiled floor. It’d be better than contorting himself in the chair.
“Morning,” Flynn said. “Want some coffee?”
Ruhn grunted his assent. Flynn clapped him on the back and slipped out, the door hissing open and shut.
Gods, his whole body hurt. His hand … He examined the thin, strangely pale fingers, the lack of tattoos or scars. Still weak. Like it was still rebuilding the strength stored in his immortal blood on the day of his Drop.
He flexed his fingers, wincing, then slowly sat up and rolled his neck. He was on his third rotation when he looked at the bed and noticed Lidia staring at him.
He went wholly still.
Her golden eyes were hazy with pain and exhaustion, but they were open, and she was … she was …
Ruhn blinked, making sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Lidia rasped, “Am I dead or alive?”
His chest caved in. “Alive,” he whispered, hands beginning to shake.
Lidia’s lips curled faintly, like it took all her effort to do so. The weight of it hit him—of what she was and who she was and what she had done.
The Hind lay before him—the fucking Hind. How could he feel such relief about someone he hated so much? How could he hate someone whose life mattered more to him than his own?
Her glazed eyes shifted from his. Glanced around the windowless room, taking in the machines and her IV. Her nostrils flared, scenting the room beneath the antiseptics and various potions. Something sharpened in her stare. Something like recognition.
Then Lidia asked very quietly, “Where are we?”
The question surprised him. She’d planned this escape. Had her injury affected her mind? Gods, he hadn’t even thought about the potential damage from going without oxygen for so long. Ruhn said softly, “On the Depth Charger—”
She moved.
Tubing and monitors came flying off her, ripped from her arm so fast blood sprayed. Machines blared, and Ruhn couldn’t act quickly enough to stop her as she leapt out of the bed, feet slipping on the floor as she hurtled to the door.
The glass hissed open, revealing Flynn with two cups of coffee in hand. He dodged to the side with a “What the fuck!”
Lidia barreled out, hardly able to stand, and it was all Ruhn could do to race after her.
The few medwitches in the hall at this hour let out surprised cries at the deer shifter stumbling past in her pale blue medical gown, careening into the walls with the grace of a newborn colt. Her legs had been rebuilt—she’d never used these ones before.
“What the Hel,” Flynn said, a step behind Ruhn, smelling of the coffee that had spilled on him when he’d dived out of Lidia’s way.
Lidia hit the stairwell, and just before the door shut behind her, Ruhn saw her trip, falling to her knees on the steps, then surge up again.
“Lidia,” he panted, each step singeing his lungs. Fuck his still-healing body—
He slammed into the stairwell door, but she was already halfway up, long legs pale and thin against the gray tiles.
She charged up and up, around and around, either unaware or uncaring that Ruhn ran close behind. She threw open an unmarked door, then bolted down the hall. People in civilian clothes pressed back against the walls at the sight of her—then him. The walls here were covered with bright art and flyers.
Sharp inhales came from Lidia. She was sobbing, craning her neck to see through the windows of the rooms she passed. Ruhn read the words on each wooden door: Year Three. Year Seven. Year Five.
She skidded to a halt, gripping a doorjamb. Ruhn reached her side as she shoved her face up to the glass.
