The rest of the day blurs. Will is beside me for most of it, except while I bathe. I’m actually afforded a real bath, not just a basin of water and a washcloth like usual. It has nothing on the king’s showers, and it’s still not enough to wash off all the blood, but it is familiar. And familiar is what I need at the moment.

Since I returned to the bunker, the representatives—minus me and Will—have been locked inside that room of theirs, no doubt trying to figure out what to make of this mess.

Once I finish bathing, I return to my room. Will’s already there, waiting for me. I walk right into his arms and allow myself this closeness. I rub my face into the rough material that covers his chest, enjoying the feel of a body.

The sensation reminds me of the king’s skin pressed against mine. The dark promise in his gaze.

I pinch my eyes shut. The last thing I want is to remember him fondly.

Will’s arms encircle mine, and we stay like that for a long time, saying nothing. I can feel Will shaking; the situation bothers him too.

I finally pull away from him. “I need to sleep.”

“I’ll stay with you,” he says.

I shake my head. “No. I want to be alone.”

Will frowns. “You’ll be okay?”

No. “I promise.” I give him a small smile to further convince him.

He looks torn.

“Seriously Will,” I say, “the representatives need you more than I do.”

He flinches at my words; I hadn’t meant them to sting.

“Please,” I say, “find out what’s going on with them so you can tell me when I wake up.” Which might be never.

Reluctantly he nods. “If you need me, you know where to find me,” he says. He hesitates, and I can see he’s trying to figure out whether he should kiss me.

“Go,” I say, giving him a push; I don’t want anyone’s lips on mine in a long, long time.

I don’t know how many hours I lie there, locked somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Long enough to hear my roommates come in and whisper to one another as they get ready for bed. Long enough to hear them leave sometime later, and long enough for several people to crack open the door and poke their heads in only to quickly retract them and leave.

At some point I realize I’m no longer sleepy, merely weary. I haven’t eaten in a while, though someone has left a plate of food and a glass of water next to my bed. A sick part of me wants to never again eat. I want to waste away until I join my parents in death.