Page 66 of Even Robots Die
I can only blame myself for that, though. I’ve chased the feeling of satisfaction that accompanies my succeeding in getting under her skin and getting her flushed.
But now I feel like an ass.
I feel.
No, that’s not possible.
“I come in peace,” I tell her as I open my palm and show her the painkiller I brought with me. It’s supposed to be for shifters, so I might have to give her only half of a normal dose, but it was all there was in the castle pharmacy..
“And now he’s nice. That’s not good for my hormones. That’s going to bite me in the ass,” she grumbles under her breath and I barely catch it.
A smile tries to tug at my lips, but I hide it. I don’t think she would take it well if she knew I heard that.
It must mean that her fever is high because she’s usually careful with what she says when she knows someone is in the room with her.
She grabs the pill without another word and I stand to get her a glass of water, but she doesn’t wait for it and swallows the pill down without a second thought.
I probably should have told her that she needed to take half of itbeforeletting her grab it.
I still walk to the sink and fill a glass of water before going back to her side.
“Drink,” I tell her, and for once she doesn’t talk back and complies.
I have a feeling she knows it’s for her own good.
I take the glass back and set it on the ground next to me. I don’t know how she ended up in this position. Her pillow is tucked under her head, but that’s the only thing that is where it’s supposed to be. She’s curled with the blanket wrapped around herself at the bottom of the bed, her head facing the left corner, and the rest of her body pointing to the middle of the bed.
Which means I don’t see the point in putting the glass on the nightstand where it should be.
“I’m cold,” she tells me, and I look at the thin blanket on her bed that should be enough for the season, but it’s completely drenched and sticking to her skin.
Of course she’s cold.
I stand to go get her another blanket, but one of her hands wraps around my wrist with surprising strength.
“Don’t leave me,” Florentine says with a small voice and wet eyes. I don’t have the heart to disentangle myself from her and send a message on my holo instead.
A minute later, Charles comes in with a winter blanket and looks at me with worried eyes.
“Is she okay?” he says so low, I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “I heard her cry from my room.”
The doubtful look he sends me makes me feel like he’s no fool. He knows I’ve been spending way too much time in Florentine’s room in my bat form. I might have been able to hide it from the rest of the crew, but Charles is perceptive and was an operative spy for most of his life. He sees things others would dismiss, but he’s also a few decades older than I am and saw me grow up, so he knows exactly where to look.
He doesn’t call out my bullshit, though.
“She seems to have a fever and I can smell blood in the air, but I’ve seen no wound that would explain her state,” I tell him.
Charles looks at me like I’m dumb.
“You raised a daughter and you’re telling me you don’t know what this is …?”
And now I feel as dumb as Charles thought I was.
“Can you find me some chocolate cake?”
“Will do,” he answers me and there is no more of that ‘are you dumb’ expression on his face.
