“Will she recover?” I demanded, and Dr. Tierney met my gaze, her eyes filled with sympathy.
“I wish I knew,” she said honestly, and sighed. “She’s strong, she’s a fighter, but in cases like these, we won’t know until she’s awake. And even then, there still may be some side effects, like memory loss, problems speaking, vision impairment, balance issues… The list goes on.”
I exhaled, the stone in the pit of my stomach growing. “So we did all this for nothing?”
Dr. Tierney shook her head sharply. “We drained the blood. We stopped her from dying. The bleeding in her brain was extensive. There’s no way to know how long she would have lasted without this surgery. I think we caught it before there was critical and irreversible damage, but I don’t believe in giving false hope. If it went well, then she’ll be up in two days… three at the most.”
I nodded, feeling numb. “Can I… Can I be with her?”
“Of course you can,” she said, sounding offended that I’d thought there was a possibility I couldn’t. “And while you’re at it, get some sleep. Really.”
As long as I could be near Violet, where I could check on her to make sure she was still there, then sleep sounded like the best plan I’d ever heard. I headed toward the door.
14
Violet
I woke up slowly. It seemed that recently, all I had been doing was waking up and falling asleep again. I’d come to before—I remembered in various degrees of clarity—more than once, with weird tubes protruding from me, restraining my movement and adding minor discomforts to the fading pain in my head and body. Some of the times I’d been scared, fought… but mostly I’d been sleeping. I couldn’t tell how many days it had been, but there had been darkness and light in various periods… Viggo was often with me when I woke, and his presence always convinced me that I was safe, that I wasn’t being treated only to be tortured by my enemies.
This particular moment of waking was significant, though, for several reasons. There was no sense of urgency or panic. None at all. Even odder, I felt strangely calm and relaxed, even taking a moment to stretch out my limbs as I slowly peeled back my eyelids.
My memory of what had happened after the palace and before the surgery hadn’t come back fully, just a vague sense of bad things happening, sometimes punctuated by flashes of memory that came to me in sharp, painful glimpses. But now I could remember waking several times before, as well as conversations—though all of them still had a fuzzy, surreal quality I couldn’t place.
Dr. Tierney had taken me off the IV earlier—I wasn’t sure how long ago, but I was sure it was hours, not days—and told me I would be getting some food in me, too, as soon as I rested a little longer. She’d even removed my catheter and helped me go to the bathroom, much to my embarrassment. She wasn’t here now, probably having stepped out to do errands, tend to her other patients, or maybe sleep.
The absence of pain in my head was… exhilarating. It still ached slightly, like a bad headache, but I was no longer confronted with agony every time I moved, and in comparison, it almost felt like an absence of pain altogether.
No, the pain wasn’t absent, but it was manageable. As my gaze started to come into focus, I panned it around the room, ridiculously happy as my eyes caressed objects while my mind provided me with their names—and they didn’t even spin! I noted with clarity, for the first time, that I was in the same room as before, but my clothes had been changed.
Out of habit, I reached up to push my hair out of my face, and was surprised to encounter a gauze bandage wrapped tightly around my head. Almost more alarming was the unfamiliar stubble on the top of my head, causing me to snatch my hand back in alarm. I’d felt this sensation before… but every time, I had forgotten and had the same reaction. This time, though, I looked around the room for some sort of mirror or reflective surface, but got distracted when the doctor pushed through the door carrying a pitcher.
“Dr. Tierney?” I croaked, and then coughed, suddenly realizing how dry my mouth was.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” Dr. Tierney smiled warmly and moved over to the other side of the bed, pouring some water into a cup. I eagerly grabbed it from her hands, slipping the straw between my lips and sucking down the cool liquid. It had a slightly metallic taste to it, but it seemed like it was the most delicious thing I had drunk in days. Who knew—maybe it was.
As I drank, Dr. Tierney tilted my head up with her fingers and shone a penlight in my eye. I stared blankly, but apprehension churned through me as she did so, my mind vaguely recalling a time when this would’ve caused instant pain. Confused by the obscure memory, I stopped. “Something… something happened,” I said.
Dr. Tierney withdrew the pen and gave me a thoughtful look. “What do you mean?”
I frowned and shook my head, unsure how to answer her question; and then I realized there were more pressing ones I needed answers to. “How are you here? Why are you here? Where’s Viggo? Where’s Tim? Does Desmond know? Oh my God, is she here? Are we all prisoners again?”
Questions were now spilling out of me so fast I could barely get them all out with my dry throat, and they would’ve continued had Dr. Tierney not raised her hand in a universal sign for slow down. I felt a twinge of impatience, but blinked, waiting.
“Oh my,” she said with a little smile, sitting down on the bed. I took being silenced as an opportunity to drink a little more. “Looks like switching to the weaker pain medication really did the trick… Where do I start? Desmond is not here, and you are safe. Viggo is here, but I’m not sure where exactly—he comes and goes as he pleases. No one is a prisoner, but as your doctor, I will tie you to the bed if you overexert yourself, so I reserve the right to amend that answer whenever I please.”
I put the water cup down. “No Desmond… Then how did you… come to be here?”
“Viggo, Amber, and Owen went to our—the Liberators’—home base,” she explained. “They had the others… watch your video.”
“Oh.” I had forgotten about the video. I couldn’t decide how I felt about them showing it to the Liberators, until I remembered that was exactly why I had made it. Still, the fact everyone had borne witness to me getting the stuffing beaten out of me by Tabitha? Talk about embarrassing. I put it aside and focused on the more important issue. Biting my lip, I looked up at her. “And my brother?”
She frowned and shook her head. “Sorry—I’m just your doctor. Viggo would have a better idea of… Hey, you sit back down right now!”
I ignored her, trying to get my limbs to obey me. Even though I was wide awake and mostly clearheaded, my arms and legs were stiff, so much so that moving had become quite troublesome. I grated my teeth together as I slid my legs out from under the covers and over the side of the mattress.
Then Dr. Tierney was there in front of me, her hands on her hips. At that moment, I despised the ease with which she moved, almost as much as it irritated me that she was in my way. I stared up at her, but she stood firm.
“Lie back down, Violet,” she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Please,” I said. “I have to know about my brother.”
“Violet, I cut open your skull two days ago. You were bleeding internally, and I had to drill not one, but two holes in your head. Not to mention your fractured skull, which is only a small injury and will heal itself… But only if you take care of it. The good news is that you’re awake, and you seem lucid. But I am not letting you out of this bed until I can at least check you out.”
I frowned. “If I let you check me out, will you please let me go find Viggo?”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I went and got him?” she asked, the hard edges of her face softening slightly.
“No!” I snapped suddenly, with vehemence that surprised me—a surge of fear hitting me hard. I looked up, noted the clinical look on Dr. Tierney’s face, and immediately forced my fear aside. “No,” I repeated, modulating my voice to be softer and more reasonable, but with no room for argumen
t.
Dr. Tierney sighed and squatted down until we were at eye level. “Sometimes, some patients who receive this kind of surgery are prone to emotional reactions that are illogical, or not rooted in anything rational. It’s perfectly normal, but before I agree to let you do anything, I need to know: why are you being so stubborn about this?”
I hesitated, trying to determine why I had been so upset by the idea of staying in bed. It was difficult to put it into words.
I took a deep breath and then exhaled. “I don’t know how long I’ve been in this bed, but I can tell it’s been a while. I need to get out and move… even if it’s just a little bit. Please? Please just… let me? For a few minutes?” Also, I don’t want Viggo to see me in this stupid bed again, I thought, but didn’t feel the need to add that part out loud. I knew it was a point of vanity, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to show him I was well, so he could stop worrying and feel better.
Dr. Tierney’s gaze was hard and searching, but I met it straight on, letting my resolve give me strength. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “After I check you out,” she said, her voice full of warning.
I smiled and nodded, folding my hands obediently in my lap.
“What’s your name?” she asked, standing up.
“Violet Bates,” I replied without hesitation.
“When were you born?”
“September 7th, two hundred and eighty-one years after The Fall.”
“How old is your brother?”
“Sixteen, but he’ll turn seventeen at the end of the month.” I felt a pang—the end of the month might have already passed, for all I knew. It had only been fifteen days off when I had gone to the palace for my showdown with Tabitha. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with worry for him. I pushed it aside for the moment, knowing I needed to prove I was all right before I could do anything.
“What day is it today?”
I screwed up my face, and gave a shrug. “I have no idea—how many days have I been unconscious?”
Dr. Tierney smiled softly as she scribbled things down on her notebook. “From what I understand? It’s been four and a half days since your fight, two and half since the surgery.”
I counted it off in my head. “August 20th? 21st?”
Her smile grew as she set the notebook down. “It’s the twentieth,” she supplied as she moved closer. I followed her orders as she checked my reflexes, pupillary responses, and the functionality of the patch in my eardrum. I asked her questions as she went, quizzing her on the injuries, how long it would take for them to heal, what she’d done to my skull… I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask why my hair was gone, though. I didn’t want to tell her how embarrassed I was.
Most of the checkup was painless, but I did hiss when she asked me to raise my arm over my head, and I quickly lowered my arm and placed my hand on my ribcage. “Well, they’re healing up as fast as we can expect,” she said. “You should be fine to walk. Just take it easy and slow, all right? Let’s get you up and moving.”
She bent down, and I gingerly put my arm over her shoulder, while she wrapped hers around my waist. I hadn’t noticed before how much shorter than me Dr. Tierney was, but my bruised ribs were incredibly glad of it now. With both of us working together, she eased me into a standing position. I swayed into her, glad she was there, as a wave of dizziness assailed my senses, making everything lean hard to the left. Dr. Tierney held me through it, and after a few seconds, the world righted itself.
“You okay?” she asked, concern thick in her voice.
I wasn’t exactly okay, but I would be damned if I was going to tell her that. She’d just send me back to bed.
“I’m good,” I replied. The look she gave me was filled with doubt, but I ignored it. “Let’s go.”
We made it to the door, moving painfully slowly, but I didn’t think I could move much faster than that. Together, we opened the door and stepped into the hall. I gazed around in wonder, as if I were seeing this place for the first time, even though I knew I had seen it before… and I wasn’t even sure how many times. Ahead, I could hear the welcome sound of Viggo’s voice.
The deep, comforting, authoritative sound bolstered my weakened strength, and I moved toward it, eager to see him. As I came out of the hall, Viggo continued talking, seeming not to notice me; but one by one, everyone sitting around the table looked up at me, their eyes widening. Viggo didn’t notice it at first, but after a moment, he paused, then shifted in his seat to look at me.
Everything I had gone through was worth it, just to see his face in that moment. I watched, as if in slow motion, as a tumble of emotions passed across his normally carefully composed face: pure shock, surprise—was that rueful, fond irritation?—all of them eclipsed very soon by one of his rare, brilliant smiles.
I felt myself blushing, a smile rising to my face as well. I couldn’t explain why, but in that moment, under the weight of the stares of everybody in the room, I felt an impish urge to raise my hand and waggle my fingers at them.
So I did.
15
Violet
My wave only had half the desired effect: Owen and Amber smiled, but Thomas’ face was pure apprehension, and Viggo was already out of his chair, moving toward me, concern etched on the strong lines of his face even through the smile he wore. He also looked tired, and I could imagine him sitting by my bed, unable to sleep. It wasn’t hard to imagine at all—it was how I had spent my time during his coma, and Viggo might have been even more protective of me than I was of him.
Dr. Tierney still had her arm around me, and I felt the insistent press of her hand, politely reminding me that, yes, she was helping me—but I was also heavy. I reached out to take Viggo’s hand, a tingle going through me as our fingers met, and allowed him to take some of my weight from her. Together, they helped me hobble toward the nearest empty seat. Amber sprang out of her chair and pulled it out for me, and I gave her a thankful look as they helped me sit down, taking care not to show exactly how relieved I was that I hadn’t had to deal with that particular obstacle.
Sitting was awesome. So much better than standing.
As soon as I sat down, Dr. Tierney let me go. Viggo, however, knelt down by me, his hand sliding down my arm, threading his fingers through mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, his green eyes searching. I felt my face soften, and I gave him a small nod.
“As well as can be expected,” I replied with a smile. Okay, I was exuding more optimism than I felt about my condition, but I was in no mood to admit it. I needed to get up, find out what had happened to Tim, and figure out what was going on.
He gave me a dubious look, but nodded. He pressed my hand against his cheek, his eyes drifting closed as he leaned into it. I curled my fingers slightly, feeling the rough beard forming on his jaw, and relief poured through me. We were alive, and together. That meant anything was possible. Dropping a kiss onto the palm of my hand, he stood up and slowly pulled away, heading back to his chair. A part of me wanted him to stay, longing for more of his touch—but I knew Viggo was too private a person to let our reunion linger in front of all of our companions. I’d seen enough in his eyes in that one moment to know he was intensely grateful I was up and walking.
I watched him a moment longer, before Amber’s arms draped around me, dragging my attention away from him. She rested her head on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m so glad you’re awake,” she said. “I was really worried about you.”
I smiled and patted her arm. “C’mon… you know no stupid princess of Matrus could keep me down,” I said, and Owen and Amber smiled. Thomas’ expression stayed locked in that same look of nervous expectation, while Viggo’s lips turned downward in a brief shadow of a frown. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been a very tasteful joke, but I couldn’t really help it.
I was particularly concerned about Thomas. There was something going on with his face, something triggering a memory, half remembered and almost dreamlike. I licked my lips, focusing on it, until I was able to piece togethe
r the last time I had been in this room. I pushed away the embarrassment and squared my shoulders, exhaling in order to calm the nervous flutter in my stomach.
Thomas was worried about how I was going to treat him. He knew that losing my brother, even temporarily, was a deep wound to me, and he was afraid I was going to blame him. Truth be told, the thought was rattling around in my skull. It would have been so easy to blame him. I had trusted him with my brother’s life.
But that wasn’t exactly true, either. Thomas didn’t like confrontation, or battles he couldn’t control, so sending Tim and Jay with him had been a way of making sure he got in and out okay. It had also allowed me a bit more control over what the boys were doing. They had snuck onto the heloship when Amber and I had left, and they had been insistent on helping. I hadn’t liked it, so sending them with Thomas to help him plant the bombs on the fuel reserves for the palace generators had seemed like a better solution. And if Amber and I hadn’t convinced Thomas to come with us to the palace… well, maybe he wouldn’t have been there to lose Tim, but all of us might also have died.
I couldn’t blame Thomas. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Jay’s fault, either, although I was sure the young man was experiencing his own feelings of guilt. Tim had stayed behind of his own volition. He must have wanted to help his friends escape. I couldn’t fault him for that—it was the exact same thing I would have done.
“Thomas,” I said softly, trying to catch his attention. He looked up at me, his eyes wide in alarm. “I just want you to know I don’t blame you for what happened with Tim.”
I looked him in the eyes, trying to convey my sincerity, and he gaped at me. Apparently the man had never factored in the possibility of me forgiving him, and I knew if a stiff wind had blown into the room at that moment, it would have knocked him over. After a moment, his shock wore off, and he shook his head, as if to clear it from a punch.