“Of course,” Tyff said, sounding much more at ease than he actually was. He didn’t know what was worse—being injured or having symptoms no one could explain.
Either way, hard work will fix it, he told himself, sternly. All he had to do was get back into a punishing routine. Then he wouldn’t have to think at all.
Chapter Twelve
It seemed like weeks had passed, but Renay knew it was barely even days. Her skin felt tight and hot, her muscles ached, and her head continued to swim every time she sat up. They had her on IV fluids, but she was almost perpetually thirsty.
Both Whelon and the human doctors were stumped. Her ribs were knitting but nowhere near as quickly as they had all hoped. It was as if her recovery was being slowed by some unknown force. As if her energy was being drawn away from her own body and reaching for something else.
In the small hours of the night, Renay began to feel her loneliest. She was used to her family being by to take her mind away from the missing mate she longed for, but ordinary routines were beginning again. Her parents had resumed work, and Jenny was back in school. They couldn’t sit with her every single night.
Hospitals could be unsettling places at night. Sometimes, Renay was lucky enough to sleep deeply, passing the hours in sweet, rapturous unconsciousness. Her dreams of Preor were always waiting for her, and her mate with them—even if she couldn’t see his face.
Tonight, the dreams refused to come. She knew this need would only get worse every single day until she found him.
The only one who knows is my mate.
She tried to move in bed to get more comfortable but all to no avail. She fell back, letting her limbs go loose as she panted. Tiny demons ran through her blood, making her itch with anticipation. She was tempted to call for relief, but she also knew they had tried every drug they had and nothing but sedatives helped her.
Soft lights switched on and off as patients called for the nurses. Even the idea of giving herself over to the still of it all was no use. The gentle thrum of the late-night corridors could neither lull nor soothe her.
Soft footfalls padded up the hall, stopping by her door. It was almost midnight, so probably shift change over time.
It was amazing how the routines of the hospital became like stepping stones in a vast river of hopeless time. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were always served at the exact same time. The tea lady came twice a day, also at the same time. Around midday a lady came through with snacks and magazines. When you could barely move or even think, these tiny events became cornerstones on which to hang your identity.
Another set of feet settled outside her door, and soft voices filtered in to her. They must have thought she was asleep, so she held her breath, straining to hear them.
“Renay Liddle,” Whelon said softly. “Still confined to bed. Vertigo persists, as do the hallucinatory dreams.” He took a deep breath. “Not healing from her injuries even though there is no infection.”
“Hmm,” the other doctor mused. “I’m glad to have you here, Whelon. I don’t know how to handle this one. Is she lucid?”
“She seems to be,” Whelon replied, “but she appears to be suffering from a trauma-induced fantasy.”
“Perhaps a mental health consult?” the other asked. “If she is determined to believe in her current condition being a result of the Knowing, she must be assessed. She is making herself unwell.”
“I have to agree,” Whelon said, regretfully. “I’d try almost anything at this stage.”
“I’ll put in for a psych consult,” the other doctor said. Renay felt tears burning her eyes. She wasn’t crazy!
“My sister isn’t crazy,” Jenny snapped, her voice coming out of nowhere. Renay’s heart lifted.
“Hello, Jenny,” Whelon said. “No one is suggesting that.”
“But you just said—”
“A mental health consult is perfectly normal for trauma patients,” the other doctor responded. “I know you want to sit with your sister now, but I also know you’ve been doing some asking around in light of this idea that she has a mate. Would you care to discuss it with me?”
After a slight pause, Renay could almost hear Jenny thinking about it.
“It could help us, Jenny,” Whelon said, gently. “It looks like Knowing sickness. It really does. It just doesn’t make any sense to me. Did you discover anything?”
“No,” she said, defeated. “I have been told if I got access to Penelope, I might find something. But I don’t know how to do that.”
“Come and have a cup of tea,” Whelon said. “Talk to me. We can work this out. We have to.”
Renay heard them moving away as the three of them talked softly. Something conspiratorial in it shot through her. Whether or not it was hard to walk, she was feeling as though she might be running out of options.
Slowly, she sat up. The room shook around her, but she didn’t stop. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and wavered, looking for her clothes. As her feet touched the cold floor, she felt the tug of the tubes on her arm and realized she was still attached to the machinery.
Searching out the switches, she clicked off the monitors. If she ripped everything out and left the machines on, it would alert the medical staff. By turning them off, she bought herself some time.
She pulled out the catheter for her IV carefully, wincing as it came free. When she took her first staggering step away from the bed, the world spun crazily around her, almost sending her crashing to the floor.
She sucked in deep breaths, grabbing on to furniture as she tried to remember how to walk. She fumbled open the nearest closet but there were no clothes.
Of course. I was wearing a ball gown and they must have cut it off.
She certainly couldn’t escape in fancy dress, either. She dragged herself into the adjacent room where a large man was snoring loudly in the center of his big bed.
She fumbled through his closet and found a big shirt and trousers. Even in the dark, the room spun so hard, she had to reach out a hand and brace herself on the bed. The snoring stopped, and her heart locked up between her ribs.
Don’t wake up, she silently pleaded into the surrounding dim. Please just stay asleep. I can’t get caught.
As if in answer to her entreaty, she heard a sharp snort, and the low drone filled the room again. Steadying herself, she managed to finish dressing herself. The pain in her ribs made her wince, and the low ache of her disused joints made her fumble, but she was a woman on a mission.
Renay knew she had to get down to the ground floor. She certainly didn’t think she could drive herself all the way to the bay, but she had to try. The stairs would be insurmountable, given how unsteady she was, so she slipped down the hall and into the elevator.
I’m coming, she kept repeating in her mind. I’m coming.
The elevator took her further down than she had expected, and she stumbled out into the underground parking area. Leaning back against the wall and blinking against the uneasy tilt of the world, she tried to puzzle out just what to do. A sudden rush of loud voices made her hide quickly behind a truck.
“All this stuff is going straight to the tower,” one guy yelled. “Hop to it.”
A solution presented itself, and Renay crept toward the voices.