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“Okay. I’m going to take some readings for Harol, then I have some medication for the fever and a shake to wash it all down.”
“Do what you must,” he repeated.
She dutifully took the readings. Harol had given her a crash course in the late stage of this condition. The dying symbiote released toxins. They could only alleviate the symptoms. It would be unpleasant and generally a miserable experience, but not fatal for someone in their middle years and otherwise healthy. She wished she shared Harol’s optimism.
The dark circles under Baris’ eyes did not give her confidence. Baris was worn thin from too little sleep. His skin was hot to the touch, his eyes glassy.
“This is for the fever.” She tipped a cup to his lips, encouraging him to drink.
He swallowed but turned his head away. “Vile.”
“It’s medicine, not candy,” she retorted, harsher than she intended. “I know it’s bitter, but it’s fast. We’ll get your temperature down.”
She coaxed half a smoothie down his throat before he pushed it away.
“One more sip,” she said. The taste wasn’t fantastic. The package claimed it was a “fruits of the forest” flavor, but it tasted more like strawberry-scented industrial floor cleaner.
“No more.”
“You need food in your stomach for the meds to work.”
“It is foul.”
“If you keep this down, you can have real food after you sleep. Now swallow.”
Baris glared, using all four eyes to maximum effect, but took the glass. He tossed it back, getting more on his chin than in his mouth. “Are you satisfied?”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “All those years of medical school and a hundred thousand dollars in student loans to play nursemaid? Ecstatic.”
“Your bedside manner leaves much to be desired.”
Lenore patted his shoulder and took the glass away. “You’ve got enough energy to complain. The meds must be working. Ready for your next round?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I disagree. You’re in need of doctoring, and as it happens, I make house calls for my favorite patient.”
He shook his head slowly from side to side. Or perhaps he was simply too exhausted to sit upright. “I’m not your patient.”
“You’re Harol’s. I know,” she said, pulling another bottle from her bag. Carefully, she measured out the dose. Pills would be easier, but the liquid meds would be absorbed faster. “Don’t worry. Everyone believes we’re having a wild, passionate weekend. No one knows you’re ill, and we won’t be disturbed.”
She handed him a cup of bright green medication. He accepted it, drinking it quickly and coughing once swallowed.
“You said rather a lot in that last statement. Explain it again.”
“There’s a video of us from the theater last night.”
Color drained from his face. “I see.”
“It’s not as bad as all that. Right now, people think we’re having an affair and couldn’t keep our hands off each other,” she said.
“A position encouraged by the palace, I presume.”
“There’s not a whisper of you being ill, and we’re keeping it that way. So you get me, not Harol.”
“You are more pleasant company than Harol,” Baris said.
“I agree. I’m a fucking delight. Can you drink some tea? Water? Juice? Gotta stay hydrated.”
