Page 83 of The Last Lost Girl

“It will be uncomfortable for her for a short time, but it will help her for far longer,” Smee implores softly. “It’s the only thing we haven’t tried that will get her fever down. I’ve tried everything I’ve got aboard, which admittedly isn’t much, and if there was another way, you know I would try it. This is the only option left.”

My teeth chatter. I don’t notice I’m trembling until my hands curl into Hudson’s shirt. “What’s wrong with me?”

“The fucking vines or Pan,” Hudson answers. “Or both.”

My eyes drift shut again.

“Look at me, Ava,” he says.

I do my best to lift my eyelids and focus on him.

“Have the water brought in,” he tells Smee.

“What water?” I say, drifting off.

“Lifeguard,” Hudson says, giving me a little shake and startling me awake again. “What’s your favorite color?”

I mull it over. I’ve never been able to pick a favorite. Every color is beautiful. I stare at his eyes, darker than emerald. “Green.”

His glorious throat works after I tell him that. He inhales deeply, then readjusts me in his arms.

I want to tell him I’m sorry he has to hold me and that he can put me down, but sleep tugs at every tattered edge of me again.

The sound of water being dumped nudges me awake. “Cairo?” I mutter.

Hudson’s arms tense around me.

Then there is more water. And more, and more.

“She doesn’t remember,” someone says quietly. I know they’re talking about me, but I don’t know what I’ve forgotten.

“I know,” Hudson murmurs.

Heavy footsteps lead away from me.

“It’s ready,” Smee says from across the room. I blink and see him stretching the privacy screen in front of the copper tub. Water sloshes in it as the ship rocks starboard.

“Smee’s taking a bath?” I ask. We probably need to leave the room.

“No, Smee isn’t bathing,” Hudson answers matter-of-factly.

“Who is?”

“We are,” he answers.

I close my eyes for just a second. “We who?”

“You and me, Lifeguard. Your body is on fire and it needs to cool down, and you can’t go into the tub alone.”

“I just want to sleep.”

Muscles ripple beneath me as Hudson stands, lifting me along with him. My blankets fall away and I hiss at the sting of frigid air, then press tightly into Hudson’s warmth. “No.”

“It’s only the fever that makes the air seem cold. Once you get into the water, you’ll see,” Smee assures me.

My clothes are still damp from our time on the island. Without the blankets, I shiver uncontrollably and goosebumps prick my skin.

“Set me down,” I tell Hudson as he reaches the tub.

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