Chapter Seventeen
The beeping is annoying.
It tugs at me, nagging in rhythmic chimes.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
I resist it.
I’m not sure why — I just know I don’t want to be awake.
I like it here.
It’s safe.
Quiet.
Nothing bad happens.
Emilia.
Emilia
Emilia.
The beeping is getting harder to resist. And now there are new sounds. Murmurs, hushed and hard to make out. Voices that belong to people whose names I can’t quite remember.
“Still no change?” The girl’s voice. She talks a lot. Fast, like it’s a race to get out all her words before anyone else. “How can that be? It’s been six hours since you brought her in.”
“Lady Thorne—”
“Lady Thorneis my grandmother, you dingbat.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want your apologies. What I want are some fucking answers about why my sister hasn’t woken up yet. Otherwise, I’m going to find a doctor whodoesn’tsuck donkey balls and make sure the next Queen of Germania’s first act is to revoke your bloody medical license!”
“Chloe.” A new voice. This one is a man’s. Deep and rasping. It slides over my skin like a caress, cajoling my slumbering mind even closer to the surface. “He’s doing everything he can.”
“Well,everything he canisn’t good enough, is it?” The girl’s voice shatters into a sob. “She could— God, Carter, what if she— what if she doesn’t wake up? What if she dies?”
A growl. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking say that. Don’t you even fucking think it. You hear me?”
“But—”
“No.” I feel something warm wrap around my clammy fingers — a large, callused hand. “If you’re going to say shit like that, you can get the hell out. In fact, if you’re going to cry, you can also get the hell out. She doesn’t need you mourning her.She’s not dying.”
“Carter—”
“I said get out!” The man roars loud enough to shake the walls.
A muffled sob.
Footsteps.