Page 95 of Lorran
“Not as long as yours, I suspect.” He glanced at the monitors attached to the bed. Saavi lay unresponsive in the bed but still breathed. “Have you eaten?”
“I am hungry,” Mikah said, climbing to his feet. He stared at the bed. “But maybe I should not leave.”
Wyn brushed the top of his head with the back of her hand. “I know you’re worried, but your mom wants you to take care of yourself. Let’s have dinner, then we can visit again and say good night.”
Mikah looked as if he would argue, his chin raised, but he nodded. “Where is Mylomon? He said he would come back.”
“He will join us after he has finished speaking with his mate,” Lorran informed the youth.
In the corridor, Wyn leaned into Lorran and whispered, “We stepped out for a drink, and her heart stopped while we were gone.” He nodded. The youth’s reluctance to leave was understandable.
Mylomon joined them in the cafeteria, as quiet as ever. However, his mate responded to the news of their impending guardianship, he kept that information to himself.
After a meal eaten in silence, Mylomon took Mikah back to Saavi’s room. Wyn had a somber air about her when they returned to their room. The female’s condition was tenuous, and Lorran knew if it were his mother in a hospital bed, he would stay by her side until she drew her last breath.
“She’s not going to make it, is she?” Wyn asked, as she went through the nightly bedtime rituals of cleansing her face and teeth.
“No. Her wound is egregious.”
Standing at the sink in the cleansing room, water running from the tap, Wyn’s head sagged. “I’m so conflicted. That could have been me. I’m grateful she took the blast, but she didn’t mean to. She took my gun and used me as a shield—”
“To protect Mikah.”
“Still a dick move. It was just luck that I fell so she got hit, and I’m so mad at her and grateful and sad and fucking furious.” She scrubbed her teeth, then rinsed. “And I’m mad at myself because I’m thankful it was her and not me.”
The shot hitting Saavi instead of Wyn was luck. There was nothing they could do to alter that fact, and Lorran suspected Saavi would not berate herself for surviving at Wyn’s expense.
“You have a soft heart,” he said.
“Survivor’s guilt. How many lectures did I sit through with counselors about that?”
“That is a rhetorical question.”
She shook her head, a hint of a smile returning to her lips. “Yeah. I’m too wound up to sleep. Can we watch something? We’ve never actually watched any television together.”
“There are several episodes ofEndless Hope and SufferingI need to catch up on. Hazel and Rosemary enjoy discussing the story, and I do not care for spoilers.”
“Sure, let’s watch an episode of your soap opera,” she said in a tone that suggested she agreed only to appease him.
“You do not think you will enjoy the program, but you are incorrect. It is a fascinating story.”
“Sure, uh-huh.”
How aggravating.
“What programs do you enjoy?” he asked.
“You know, I’ve been really into true crime documentaries recently. Vanishings at seedy hotels. Serial killers and how the police bungled the investigation. That sort of thing. Also, if there’s a group of magical teenagers, possibly a Chosen One, I am there for it. Hunting vampires. Fighting wizards. Dealing with your destiny, but also being too shy to confess that you’re crushing on your bestie? I can’t get enough.”
That did sound intriguing. Lorran queued up the program, and the show filled the viewscreen on the wall. Wyn brought out a tablet from a bag and flipped through the images.
“May I see?” he asked.
His mate looked hesitant as her brows drew together. “Sure, but I’m just getting a feel for the tablet.”
She pushed the tablet toward him.
Lorran flipped through the digital pages. She captured images of people in the atrium. A couple having a conversation. Plant leaves against the windows. The vendor selling iced beverages. The images were sketched in with quick, confident strokes but skipped fine detail. It was unneeded. The lines caught motion and conveyed so much more. A swirling design crowded the edges of the sketches.
