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She hovers, refusing to let me out of the bed and refusing to say what we both know is true: that of all bad omens, this is the worst one.
I’ve never had an episode start while she was in the room. I’ve never had one stubbornly resist ending in Artemis’s presence. I’ve never had one that didn’t also make her cheeks turn pink, which means we can’t predict any of this anymore. Maybe they’ll only affect me from here on out. Or maybe they’ll reverse, and Artemis will get the brunt of the symptoms.
Feeling like total shit is less terrifying than the uncertainty. From the thinly concealed worry on Artemis’s face, she thinks the same thing. I can’t allow myself to think too hard about what I would do if the situations were reversed. I’d much rather be the one dying than watching her die.
She wouldn’t appreciate me saying that, so I don’t.
Artemis asks a few more questions about Morcia. I explain, as blandly as possible, what I know about the political situation in the country and the tensions between the two political parties.
“Hang on.” Artemis pushes herself up on one elbow and stares down at me, the bedsheet draped over her collarbone like an enkylon. “Are we talking about terrorists? You’re meeting with terrorists?”
“I think what I’m trying to do is prevent them from becoming terrorists.”
“By what? Negotiating with them? That’s not what you’re supposed to do with terrorists, Apollo.”
“By—” I’m tired. My brain isn’t working at full capacity. I don’t recommend having an episode before or during any blackmailing being done on you or while taking an international flight. “By hosting a meeting with the…other political party.”
“The non-terrorist party?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve…done this before?”
My heart leaps up from its resting rate and sprints around, apparently realizing that this is one conversation in particular I wanted to avoid. Unfortunately, I’ve already ruined that for myself, haven’t I? I remember saying something about this when the fever came.
“I didn’t negotiate for terrorists.” It’s not a beginning that bodes well for the rest of the story. “There’s a country next to Mociar. Rathbek. They elected that president a few years ago?—”
“Oh, God. The bad president?”
“Yes. He was a very bad president.”
“Apollo, everyone knew he was so bad. Even Castor and Pollux knew he was bad.”
“That’s why I thought…” It’s so exhausting to remember this. “That’s why I thought the opposition party might be better. But it wasn’t about what I thought. I’m the one who’s deciding foreign policy.”
“Right.”
“They wanted me to broker a meeting between the president and the general, so I did. I don’t know, Artemis, it was—there was going to be trouble with the elections. People were turning on each other. They wanted a peaceful dialogue, and that’s what I gave them. Representatives in a room.”
“And then what?”
“And they decided to cooperate with each other for the good of the country. Except the cooperative part wasn’t between the government and the people. It was between the government and the military.”
“Apollo. You did not orchestrate a military coup.”
“Fucking crickets, Artemis, no! I didn’t! I don’t have the influence to orchestrate a coup.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Maybe I do.” I can’t help it. I reach my hand up and put my fingers in her hair. I’m beginning to think that touching her won’t actually save me from anything, much less my own ridiculous body, but I want it anyway. “But I’ve never been interested in a coup in my life.”
“You’re interested in world peace,” Artemis says softly.
“I am…” Interested in making up for how ruined I am. “Very, very interested in world peace. I wouldn’t have hosted the meeting if I knew what would happen after.”
She furrows her brow. “Why didn’t you tell me about all this when it was happening?”
“Because doing a military coup isn’t hot.” My heart wiggles up into my throat. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were disgusted.”
