Something like a smile tugged at my mouth. "Deal."
She hugged me — fierce, brief, worried. Then she let me go.
"Eat something," she called after me. "I'll know if you don't."
I waved without turning around.
I didn't eat anything.
James was waiting in Cal's room when I stopped by to check on him.
He looked up when I entered, and I felt his reaction through the bond before I saw it on his face — the sharp spike of worry, the frustration that followed. His eyes swept over me the same way Ivy's had, cataloging the damage.
"Lumi." His voice was rough.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine." He stood, crossed the room in three strides. His hands found my face, tilting it up to the light. "When did you last sleep? Real sleep, not whatever you're doing in that observation room."
"I sleep."
"You pass out from exhaustion. That's not the same thing." His thumb traced the shadow under my eye. "I can feel you through the bond, you know. The headaches. The dizziness. The way your body is screaming at you to stop."
I closed my eyes. Let myself lean into his touch, just for a moment.
"I know," I whispered. "I know it's bad. But Stone is finally making progress. He slept while I was there, James. Actually slept. I can't stop now."
"You can." His voice softened. "You just won't."
"Same thing."
"It's not." He pulled me against his chest, wrapped his arms around me. I felt the tension in him — the need to fix this, toprotect me from myself. "I want to be angry with you. I am angry with you. But I also understand why you're doing it."
"That's very mature of you."
"Don't get used to it."
I laughed weakly against his shirt. He smelled like pine and warmth and safety. I wanted to stay here forever.
"Eat something," he said. "For me. Please."
"I will."
Cal noticed too.
I felt his guilt through the bond — a constant, grinding weight that had nothing to do with my exhaustion and everything to do with it. He watched me with those golden eyes, and I knew what he was thinking without him having to say it.
"It's not your fault," I told him during one of my visits to the east wing.
He made a sound. Disagreement.
"Cal." I crouched down beside him, ran my fingers through his fur. "I chose this. I chose to go up that mountain. I chose to bring them back. None of that is on you."
He pressed his head against my thigh.
"I'm doing what needs to be done."
Neal avoided me.
