Page 63 of Veiled Vixen

CHAPTER ELEVEN - VALOR

I must fall asleep on the couch because I wake up confused, looking out onto the dark expanse of empty space through the window.

“I’m fine,” I hear Veila say, and realize she’s awake.

I sit up and find her propped up against the open doorway of the medical center, wearing a thin white robe, looking tired, and not at all like herself.

“What the hell?” I whisper.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she hisses. “What are you doing here? Get out!” Then she turns to the bot and says, “Get him out of here! Now!”

“Hold up,” I say, getting to my feet. “What are you doing? Where are you going? You should be in bed!”

“Get out!”

“And what the hell happened to you? Why are you… pink?”

Veila stumbles forward, but the bot is holding her up with both of his grippy hands so she doesn’t fall. She pushes him off her and leans against the wall again. Then she glares at the bot and says, “Stop touching me. I can do it myself.” Presumably referring to walking. But she can’t do it herself, because she takes two tentative steps and falls to her knees.

I rush over and bend down to grip her arm. She struggles in my hold, but she’s far too weak to fight me. “Where do you want to go? I’ll help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” she seethes, jerking her arm free. But when she tries to stand back up, it’s clear she’s not going anywhere without someone’s help.

Normally I’d poke her about this. Make her admit that she does need help. Maybe even make fun of her weakness and vulnerability.

But I’m not thinking clearly. She looks… well, nothing like the Veila I saw even a few hours ago. And certainly nothing close to the Veila I saw when I woke up earlier today.

She is no longer silver. Like at all. She is just… pink. As pink as Lyra or Delphi. Her long, messy hair, her furious eyes, and even her glow is a light shade of pink.

But not the rose gold of earlier when she was drinking the tushberry juice, either. That was a glow of health. Or at the very least, not near death.

Her glow now is tinged with gray. A color I’ve never seen either Delphi or Lyra display. Not even when Lyra was in the medical pod after we blew up the Cygnian warship near Bull Station.

So I don’t say anything. I just lift her up to her feet and hold on to her arm as she shuffles across the room to the couch. Then I hold her tight as she eases her body down into a sitting position. She pauses there, catching her breath, then turns and slowly crawls up the couch and tucks herself into one side of the curved back, fingertips reaching for the silver blanket.

I help spread it across her body because it’s painfully clear that she will not be able to manage this.

She doesn’t say another word. She doesn’t protest or fight me. And that might be the clearest sign that she is not well. She simply closes her eyes and falls asleep.

I stand there like an idiot for several minutes. Just looking at her. Wondering what the hell I’m witnessing.

Is Veila… dying?

That should be a good thing, right? I mean, all I’ve thought about for the past several months since I first saw her hologram threats from Lair Station was how I wanted to kill her. End her life.

And here she is. Pathetic and weak. Listless and vulnerable.

And I do not want to kill her. Not at all.

I want to hold her and tell her everything is going to be OK.

“You should leave.” The bot’s voice comes from the wristband on the couch. I must’ve set it down before I fell asleep earlier.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.”

I don’t add why I’m not leaving. I don’t even understand it.

Because I feel wholly different about Veila right now.