Dragon's Isolation - Miranda Martin Page 0,40

bound from my seat in front of it and pace the length of the office, hands balled into fists and punching the air to accentuate every word.

“I understand,” Rosalind says. “But I can’t put even more people at risk.”

“We’re losing them!” I scream, spinning to face her.

“Yes,” Rosalind says.

My thoughts come to a stuttering stop. I snap my mouth shut, almost biting my tongue as it audibly clicks. She and I stare, one at the other, and I wait for her to say something more. Anything more. Some bright idea, a grand solution, something more than a concession that she’s writing off the three Zmaj warriors who are sick and the others who might be, and we don’t know it yet.

“That’s it?” I ask when she says nothing more.

There’s a twitch to her left eye. The lines on her face are deeper, the white hairs at her temple are more prominent. She blinks several times before she nods.

“Yes,” she says. “We are doing all we can.”

“No, we’re not,” I growl. “We can go to where Ladon got infected and get the stars-be-damned sample that Addison says will help her find a cure!”

“She doesn’t know that,” Rosalind says.

“She said it!”

“She said might,” Rosalind points out.

“Which is better than nothing!”

“In this case, no, it’s not,” Rosalind says.

“My god, the crap they say about you is true, isn’t it?” I say. I’m attacking blindly, not thinking about my words. “The Ice Queen coldly calculating without a single moment’s consideration to the lives you’re playing with. It’s all the good of the many, and who cares if a few get ground up on the way?”

She flinches. It’s not a lot, but I see the effect my words caused. I regret them.

“Is that all?” Rosalind asks.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s fine,” Rosalind says, pulling a stack of papers in front of herself and not looking at me.

“Rosalind,” I say, voice trembling.

She looks up and her piercing, sharp gaze cuts through my anger and despair. I’ve hurt her, deeply, but she’s not calling me on it. She doesn’t say a word. Sitting, waiting, letting me say whatever it is I’m going to say. I’ve got one chance to fix this and no clue what to say. I’m not good with people, or words, or emotions, yet here I am. Swamped in the middle of all three.

I shake my head, press my lips together, and then do the only thing that I can still manage. I collapse back into the chair in front of her desk, head in my hands, and I cry. All of this is too much. I never, ever had a thought that I might lose Shidan. As much as I thought I didn’t want him when he first chose me, now I can’t imagine life without him.

All my frustration, my fear, and every other confused, messy emotion that doesn’t make sense pours out in my tears. Rosalind’s chair scrapes, and her boots click as she walks around the desk. She places a hand on my back and kneels next to me.

Silent, she pulls me into an embrace. She holds me as I melt down. All semblance of having it together gone. I’m lost. Lost without him and lost without a direction to go. Something, anything, useful to do. Some way or glimmer of hope that I can save him. Save him the way he’s saved me so many times.

How many times can I cry? How many tears can I shed before I’ve got nothing left? Every time I think I’m done, and it’s time to get into action, here comes another round of losing it. Emotions suck. Tears suck. Feeling helpless… I can’t deal with this.

“What do I do?” I ask, as I manage to exhaust my tears yet again.

“We do,” Rosalind corrects, tightening her grip on my shoulders. “You’re not alone.”

More tears swell, and it’s all I can do to not start blubbering again. I’m a wreck.

“We,” I say.

“I can’t let anyone go back to where Ladon was most likely exposed,” Rosalind says, cupping my cheek in her hand then returning to the chair behind her desk. “It’s too dangerous. Even with the lockdown, we’re looking at ten to fifteen percent of the population of the City is sick.”

“That doesn’t seem like that many,” I say.

“It’s not,” Rosalind says. “Because I ordered the quarantine. If I hadn’t, it could well be twenty, thirty, or even more. We can’t afford to lose that many people.