Page 13 of For the Strange and Surprising

“I have never wanted to physically harm someone so badly in my entire life until today,” I mutter.

I close my eyes, taking the deepest breath I can hold as I try to center myself. I speed through a meditation technique, starting at my toes. The idea is to block out all the sounds around me, recognize my body, and notice where I’m carrying stress and anxiety. It doesn’t work.

“Ecaeris?” Talodus murmurs. “Why don’t you go get her some food? That should help.”

The prince grunts. “I’m not getting her anything until I know that she isn’t a Shade.”

I turn and walk away. Every step that I take away from them eases the tension in my shoulders. I mentally make a list of all the gods and deities of the sea to calm myself. Some of their names are complicated, and they usually capture my full attention. Instead, I hear the end of their conversation as Imryll begins to follow me.

The doctor sighs. “Look. I know you only get it from us, but she doesn’t seem to care that you’re the prince. If you keep pissing her off, she might snap. She looks like she’s been through too much already.”

Talodus adds, “I’m not going to stop her. I know you can fight, but she looks feisty, and there are quite a few—”

“Fine,” Ecaeris interrupts, and I can hear the disbelief in his voice as he snorts. “I’ll go get the sensitive Shade some food. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

I could scream, but I won’t. I don’t like that he was right; I did throw a tantrum, though I feel like it wasn’t misplaced. I’m not sorry about calling him an asshole, either.

The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their proper name.

That’s what my fortune cookie from last week’s Chinese takeout said.

“How can someone I just met push me over the edge that quickly?”

I’m asking myself, but Imryll answers me as he comes into the tidy room.

“I’m almost positive that’s his gift. It’s nice to see someone give him hell, though. Most people bite their tongue.”

Talodus leans against the wall by the door, hovering as he watches us both too closely for my current mood. He chuckles at Imryll’s confession.

“The people love him, but they’d never speak to him like that.”

The Mongrel guard shrugs his broad shoulders, the thin white fabric of his shirt stretching tightly across his chest. I stare at the ceiling because really? Blood loss is making me lose my mind, and that’s the safest place to look. I need another distraction, but not the muscular kind.

“We do,” he continues, and I assume he means himself and Imryll. “But we grew up together, so that makes it easier to insult him.”

“That’s true,” Imryll acknowledges. “Are you hurt anywhere else, Ada?”

I do not like the way he says my name. I mean, I do… But Jesus, Neptune, and Osiris. I think I have a concussion. I nod to myself, because that makes perfect sense.

“No. Not that I’ve found, but I haven’t had a moment to really check myself out. When I can get somewhere to wash all the saltwater off my body, I’ll look and let you know. Right now, I’m just dehydrated and tired.”

The doctor gives me a skeptical once-over, and I roll my eyes as I amend my answer. “I might have a concussion. I know the proper care routine for that, though. If I start having severe symptoms, I’ll let you know about that too.”

He puts his finger under my chin, tipping my head back as he peers into my eyes. Then he feels around my head, searching for gashes? An alien leech that’s making me hallucinate? I have no clue.

I give him an unwelcome smile. “Could you not?”

He removes his hands and opens his mouth to speak, but he begins to laugh before shaking his head. “All right. We’ll move on. This cut needs about twenty stitches, give or take. Are you ready for that?”

Imryll gathers supplies from a cabinet across the room, bringing back a tray with a needle and thick thread on it. He sits on a stool in front of me, and I wince, feeling woozy all over again.

“Aren’t you going to numb it?”

“Why would I do that?”

My eyebrows disappear into my hairline. “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Add loss of comprehension to my chart.”

“Oh,” he says cheerfully, pointing to his tray. “I’m going to stitch your arm up with this curved needle and this plant-based thread. It has healing properties, so it cuts the recovery time in half.”