Oh, shit. I glanced at my watch, dismayed when the time confirmed my suspicion. Our privacy was about to expire. Marc probably wouldn’t let any of the tribunal members into the room, but he wouldn’t even try to stop my father.

In a blink, my focus shifted from the window to the girl curled up in the corner. My opening line was already on my lips when I saw her mouth stretch open in a yawn much too big for such a small face. She was about to fall asleep. Again. She’d been out cold for hours, but I knew better than most that being unconscious isn’t the least bit recuperative. You need actual sleep to feel alert and rested.

“You want to lie down?” I sank onto my knees in front of her.

She shook her head adamantly, and the harsh motion seemed to wake her up a bit. But it was only a matter of time before sleep would claim her. I didn’t think anyone would wake her intentionally once she passed out, but I had to find out her name before then.

“I sent one of the guys to get some clothes for you. When he gets back, you can get dressed and curl up in the bed.” She shook her head again, and I conceded. “Or, you can stay awake. But before he gets here, we need to talk. You can talk, right?”

She nodded solemnly, and one thin hand went to her throat, as if checking to make sure it was still there. “I thi—” Her voice broke into a hoarse croak after only two syllables. “I think s—” But again her effort ended in a dry strangling sound.

“You need something to drink?” I asked, and she nodded, her hand still pressed to the base of her dirt-streaked neck. Lucas hadn’t brought a glass of anything along with the plate of chicken, and I wasn’t sure we had time to send him to the kitchen again now. But surely one of the first things a doctor would offer a newly awakened patient was something to drink…

I scanned the room, but saw nothing to drink from. No paper cup, no coffee mug, and certainly no nice tall glass of ice water.

The tabby cleared her throat for my attention. “There,” she croaked, pointing toward the foot of the nearest bed. I followed her finger to find the edge of something white and round sticking out from under one corner of the bed. I lifted the sheet to reveal a white plastic cereal bowl, about one-third of the way full of water.

A bowl. Of course. The tabby had still been in cat form when he’d visited.

When I pulled the bowl out, my hand landed in a small, cold puddle on the floor, and I understood where the rest of the water had gone.