Page 66 of The Wicker King

August turned to gesture back at the empty room, but found it wasn’t empty at all.

Jack sat on the bed. He knew it was him by the way he curled one leg gracefully under the other, but his entire head was obscured by a large white cloud. August stumbled into the room and fell to his knees. As soon as they hit the tile, they were no longer covered by rough cloth, but clad in the finest steel.

“Are you certain, Lionheart?” The orderly was in the doorway now.

“Of course,” August said, bowing before him. “I never doubted once.”

When he looked up, the room was empty and the armor was gone and the orderly had vanished.

When August woke up, he wept.

OKAY

“I feel as though your stay here has been less than advantageous for you,” the psychologist said.

“What makes you think that?” August replied. He took a bite of his apple, pilfered at lunch.

“If I was to be completely honest, you’re much worse now than when you came in. The only thing we seem to have fixed is your pyromania.”

August snorted. He wasn’t a pyromaniac. He hadn’t had the urge since he’d nearly burned off the entire first layer of skin on his palms. Which was totally a rational response. If they wanted to take credit for that, whatever.

“It’s likely that Jack will come out of this situation with significantly less trauma than you will,” the psychologist remarked. “The procedure is invasive, but the recovery time for this illness is notoriously very short. Only a couple of days, actually. If the surgery is successful, he should be right as rain.”

August took another bite.

“How do you feel about that?”

He chewed for a bit instead of answering.

“What’s your name? You know, I never asked. Or cared to find out, before now,” he said suddenly.

“Kimberly Cho.”

“Dr. Cho?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. You know. For everything.”

LES CINQ DOIGTS

It was night when he came. The guard turned on the light and searched the room before waving him in. August sat up in bed and watched the guard close the door behind him. He could see the man still looking in through the tiny window. Ah well, it couldn’t be helped. August turned his attention to Jack.

Jack stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He was wearing regular clothes and his head was shaved because of the surgery. He looked pretty much like he had the day they’d arrived. Maybe a bit thinner and a bit paler, but no worse for wear.

“Can I?” Jack gestured at the bed. August nodded.

Jack approached him hesitantly and sat on the edge. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he blurted out. “I wanted to see you before I did.”

August cleared his throat. “So the surgery … the surgery worked, huh?”

“Yup.” Jack picked at the sheets for a bit before continuing. “It’s weird, you know? I wouldn’t say I miss it, but it’s weird. It’s a good thing it’s over, though, I guess. Or at least that’s what they keep telling me.”

“Is it permanent?” August asked, his voice cracking.

“Yeah. Yes it is.”

August felt a lump rising in his throat and he didn’t know why. He turned away from Jack and glared at the barred window.