instructed. Almost instantly, the pain begins to ease.
“And take this,” she orders, handing me a small helping of an ingredient I don’t recognize but swallow nonetheless. “I need you perfectly still, and it will help you sleep.”
Emma is readying a needle when her mother enters the Clinic.
“How’d it go?” Emma asks.
“The baby didn’t make it,” Carter says, putting her bag down and repinning her hair on the top of her head. It is the same shade as Emma’s, light brown like the hide of a young fawn, and full of stubborn waves. “Died during the labor. Just as well though, seeing as it was a boy.”
Emma looks saddened by the news. “And the mother?”
“Laurel is fine.” I know this girl is a good friend of Emma’s. I’ve seen them at the market, giggling and whispering to each other as they trade for goods.
Emma breathes a sigh of relief, but I notice a single tear trickle its way down her cheek. She pushes it aside with the back of her hand and returns her attention to the needle.
“Lie back,” she tells me, and I do. My head feels oddly light; and Emma, leaning over me to examine the wound, seems to shine like dew-topped grass in morning sunlight. She tells me to relax, but I’m stuck staring into her brown eyes and instead I let words bubble to my lips.
“You want to do something after this?”
“Do something?” Her face is a combination of shock and disgust.
“Yeah, like go to the pub or for a walk. I’ll take anything really.”
“My best friend loses her child, you’re about to lose your brother, and all you want to do is take me to the pub?” When she puts it this way, it does seem somewhat despicable. “You’re nothing like him, you know that?” she adds. “You two may look alike, but you’re very, very different.”
It hurts, those words, but they’re true.
“Emma, sweetie, he’s not that bad,” Carter interjects from the doorway. “People cope in different ways.” I’m not sure why Carter’s coming to my defense. Maybe she can’t stop fussing over me, even now, years after I’ve needed her care. Or maybe it’s because she was close with my mother or the fact that I remind her of my father; she’s told me countless times how much Blaine and I look like him. Either way I am grateful.
“Did they put you guys up to this? The Council?” Emma asks. “You’ve been slated to me, haven’t you?” Her eyes cut into mine.
“No,” I admit. “No, not at all. I’m not slated to anyone. They’re going light on me because of Blaine and the Heist. I haven’t had to see anyone for a week, and I doubt I will for another few.” My head is starting to swim now. It wants to sleep.
Emma scowls. “So I should feel honored that this is genuine? I should be happy you’re trying to woo me of your own accord and not the Council’s?”
Her eyebrows are furrowed and she holds her hands on her hips. I’ve never seen her look quite so angry.
“Forget it then, Emma, okay? I was only asking. No one’s twisting your wrist.”
I slump farther into the bed, exhausted. Emma leans over me, her wide eyes focused on my jaw. The needle approaches my skin, but there is no pain. It is just her, stitching me together as though I am a quilt, and then darkness, as I fall asleep.
THREE
WHEN I COME TO, MY head is foggy. I touch my jaw and find delicate stitches sewn into my skin. The Clinic is empty except for Emma, who is tearing old clothes into bandage-sized strips by candlelight. I’ve slept through the entire afternoon, through dinner, through—I sit up, panicked.
“Did I miss it?”
Emma jumps. “Gray, you scared me half to death,” she says, clutching her chest.
“Did I miss it?” I repeat. “Blaine’s ceremony? The Heist? Is it over?”
“No, it’s still under way. But you needed rest. I think you had a mild infection, and after the treatment we let you sleep. They started without you.”
“Well, I’m fine now,” I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I try to stand, but my vision ripples. Emma is beside me quickly, pulling my arm over her shoulders and wrapping her free hand about my waist. It takes a moment, but I feel strong with her at my side.
“I have to be there, Emma,” I say, turning toward her. She’s closer than I anticipate and her eyelashes nearly brush