Karl follows up with, “I talked to Kate downstairs. She says Kellan is coming along?”
“Kellan,” Jonah bites out, “also needs his rest and should be left alone.”
I’ve never seen Karl so uncomfortable before. He scuffs his steel-toed boot against the tiled floor. “You feeling okay, Chloe?”
I tell him I am; Jonah’s grip on my hand is close to bruising. “Tired, but less thirsty, you know?”
I expect this to be amusing, considering the threat of dehydration and all, but neither man smiles.
“Good, good,” Karl mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“You should go now.” Jonah stands up, mercifully releasing my hand.
“Jonah,” Karl begins quietly, but my fiancé shakes his head.
“No,” he tells Karl. Practically barks. “You need to go.”
Karl scrubs his face. “You think this is easy for me? I have my orders.”
Jonah surprises me by saying, “Are you kidding me? Fuck your orders. We’ve already had this discussion, and my answer is the same. I tried to do this the nice way, but I will not tolerate this insubordination.”
“What. Is going. On?” Insubordination? What the hell? Jonah does not throw words around like this. Jonah is the most sane, logical person I know.
“It’s standard procedure,” Karl offers unemotionally. Like he’s a robot. Like somebody came and stole the Karl I know and put some voice box and wires in him and made him say stuff in a voice that’s his but isn’t.
Jonah laughs, but there’s no humor in the room. “Is that how they’re playing this?”
Karl’s shoulders sag and unhappiness colors his entire person for the tiniest of seconds, even though his back is ramrod straight. “If you look at it from the Guard’s perspec—”
Jonah cuts him off. “I outrank every single person in the Guard. Even you. And when I say no, I mean no. If he thinks he can challenge my authority, especially since he thinks I’m just a,”—and here he flashes air quotes—“kid, then I welcome him to try. But we all know how this is going to end. I’m going to get my way, and he’s going to get his ass handed to him.”
I grab his arm. “Jonah, talk to me! What’s this about?”
A muscle twitches near Karl’s left eye. “Even though I’m a Council member, I still have to do as ordered when the Guard brass issue a command—”
“Unless the Council revokes that order!” Jonah says loudly, also ignoring me. “Which I did!”
Karl’s eyes close briefly as he massages the spot between them. “I know, J. You think I didn’t point this out, oh, I don’t know, a few dozen times?”
Jonah may be shorter than Karl (I mean, who isn’t?), but he sure doesn’t seem like it when he takes a step closer and says in that low voice, “Then why are you here? I told you to stay away. I ordered you to stay away.”
Karl’s eyes do not leave Jonah’s, not for a second. “For your information, I was escorted.”
Jonah laughs. It’s ugly. “And you let them? Wow. I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”
“Jonah!” I gasp. I may have no idea what’s going on, but . . . but . . . this is one of his oldest, best friends! “Somebody tell me what’s going on!”
Karl finally looks at me and then back at Jonah. “Maybe you don’t.”
Jonah takes another step closer, so there is very little space between the two men. “You tell him,” he says in such a quiet, flat voice that I flinch back into my pillows, “that if he dares to contradict my orders again, he will regret it. That if he thinks I won’t destroy him, he’s deluding himself. Because you know as well as I that I will.”
Karl nods, just once. Then, to me—“I’m glad you’re okay, Chloe.”
When he leaves, I practically shout, “What the hell was that?”
“That,” Jonah says, calmer now, “is another thing we’re not discussing tonight.”
I am utterly bewildered by what just went down, but I know Jonah. And I know he’s been through hell the last week, too. And if he says he’s not ready to talk about something, I need to accept it for the time being, even though I’m dying to know. So I say, more teasing than annoyed, “What exactly are we allowed to talk about?”
He sits back down on the bed next to me. “You. And me. And how I’ll do anything to ensure your safety and happiness.”
But just what does that mean?
Dinner is Jell-o. Yay.
“Do you have a preference?” Jonah asks, flipping through a menu dropped off earlier by an orderly. This is so Annar—menus in a hospital. Personalized, no less. Only my menu consists entirely of Jell-o options. “Flavor-wise, I mean?”
“I’d like chocolate pudding,” I grumble, but he ignores me and rattles off ten different flavors for me to choose from. “Fine,” I sigh. “Cherry will do.”
He smiles. “You always pick red.” Then he calls down to the kitchen and makes the order.
“How are you feeling?” I ask when he climbs back into the bed with me.