“It would,” I admitted quietly. “Have changed my mind, that is.” I rinsed the cloth and placed it on the back of her neck. She sighed, her body relaxing slightly.

“Do you need a healer? Should I open a portal and take you to the … the hospital?”

She tilted her head back from the bucket to watch me. “No. I just … I need to get it all out of my system. And you need to go.”

“Go where?” I asked. “You’re ill, I don’t want to⁠—”

“Anywhere but inside this room with me. SJ, seriously, unless you have a super creepy diarrhoea fetish, now is the time to leave! Go back to Hell … I can do this alone … wouldn’t be the first time.”

I walked stiffly through the bathroom door, closing it behind me. As for going home? There was nothing that would make me leave her right now.

So I waited. I sank to the floor, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door. My pocket had not stopped vibrating since she ran from the dining room at Stella.

I pulled out the Soul Token. It was glowing neon pink and buzzing with the amount of energy it had absorbed from her agony. I clenched it inside my fist, hating that my stupid invention worked so well. My own stomach churned at the thought of her distress. All because of me.

“I know you’re still out there.” Her voice was soft, but it cut through my tumultuous thoughts. “You really should go.”

“I do not want to go,” I grated, shoving the offensive Token back into my pocket. “I will not leave you to deal with this alone.”

“Well … there’s a bottle of lemonade in the fridge … it’s a green plastic bottle with Sprite written on the side. Can you bring it to me? I think I should have a sip of something, see if I can keep it down.”

I leapt to my feet, practically sprinting for the kitchen. I recalled watching her place bottles into the large, white chiller the day I’d shown up unannounced while she was unpacking her foodstuffs.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

Wrenching open the door, I scanned the shelves. There really was not much in the way of nourishment in there, but there was a green plastic bottle that said Sprite.

I hurried it back to her, knocking on the door. “I have your lemon drink.”

The door opened. Her skin was milky pale, but she was standing. “I think the worst of it is over.” She took the bottle, but her hands shook as she tried to undo the cap.

“Let me.” I unscrewed it, handing it back to her. She sipped tentatively and waited. I held my breath.

“I think I’ll be able to keep it down,” she murmured. “Gosh, I really need to take a shower.” Her eyes met mine. She looked worn out.

My fault.