I felt my mouth drop open, unable to hide my shock at the simple truth in his voice. My captor stepped back and smirked. "Don’t worry, Felix. Soon enough, all of this will be nothing more than an unpleasant memory to you anyway."
The door closed, and I heard the latch shut, sealing me in. In the inky black darkness, the next sound filled my heart with fear, as the light hissing sound of gas being released into the container came to my ears, and my eyelids started to droop. I fought it as hard as I could, but it was irresistible. My last thought was only that I had to hold onto something because I had to get back to Jordan.
Chapter 26
Jordan
In the four days since Francois came back from Calais, I hadn't done much more than cry, sleep, and cry again. Francois came back, shaken up and his eyes haunted, telling me that they'd been double crossed. "One of them pulled a gun, and Felix pushed me out the door, trying to protect me. I ran for the car, hoping he would follow. I was halfway across the parking lot when the bullets . . .”
I had been unable to focus, and Francois drove us back to Valence, telling Charani and Syeira when we got back. Syeira had clothed herself in black, her body seeming to shrink as the days passed. I hardly noticed, depression washing over me every time I came out of sleep. The dreams were better. At least there, my Felix was still with me, holding my hand as we talked about our futures, about his leaving the life of crime or the possibility of having children. I saw myself growing older, but not caring as long as my Felix was with me, father to my children and nourisher of my soul. In my dreams, I didn't have to think about life without him.
The morning of the fifth day, I woke up to find Charani seated on the edge of my bed, a concerned look on her face. "You can’t stay in bed forever."
"Go away please,” I groaned, trying to roll over. It scared me slightly when I realized I was so weak from lack of food and water that I couldn't even do that. I thought back, and realized it’d been at least two days since I'd eaten or drank anything. "I just want to die."
"No you don't," she said softly, laying a hand on my shoulder. "It hurts, we’re all in pain, but you can’t give up. Francois needs you more than ever."
At the mention of Francois, I found the strength to open my eyes again.
"Oh, he won't say it, he's a man. His pride won’t let him admit any weakness, anything but the strength he thinks he needs to display with the position he’s now thrust into. He thinks he has to be some sort of Titan for you, for me, and for Syeira. But he’s just a man, and he needs you with him."
"And how am I to do that?" I rasped, my throat dry as the desert. "He leaves me alone."
"Because he doesn’t know how to help you grieve, nor does he even know how to grieve himself," Charani replied. "So you must be strong and go to him. Come, you don’t have to do it alone."
I tried sitting up, and failed miserably. "Help . . . please."
Charani shook her head. "Stay there, but stay awake. I will be back shortly."
I lay on my side, trying after three attempts to roll onto my back. I could feel the bed underneath me cold and wet, and I wondered if it was sweat, tears, or if I was so weak I'd pissed the bed without knowing it.
Charani came back in, holding a bowl of soup. "Stay there, just sip," she said, sitting back down. Setting the bowl aside for a moment, she picked my head up and slid a pillow underneath me, letting me recline. "Now, slow sips, just swallow."
Spoon by spoon over the next hour, she fed me sips of the warm broth. There wasn't much in it, just a basic chicken broth, but it helped. I could taste the bullion cubes and the natural fats in the broth which gave me a bit of energy. "After this, I will help you wash," she soothed, helping with a dribble that escaped my lips. "Then you’ll go to Francois when he gets home."
"Where is he?" I asked, my voice stronger than before. "I thought he’d be here."
"He’s in town," Charani said. "The other members of our tribal group, they’re having a meeting. While by tradition Francois should take over, it’s not assured."
"Why not?" I asked.
Charani sighed. "When my father died, it was already a bit contentious. Felix was so young for such a position, and while the Romani respect the family tradition, there’s also reality. If he hadn’t had such a history of serious study and reflection, he might not have been made King."
"Francois doesn’t have such a reputation," I said. "He's been trying to garner his own."
"Which is problematic," Charani replied. "A few years ago, he would have never have been allowed to ascend. Now though, he’s older, there is a chance."
I took another spoonful of soup, and thought. “Would it be so bad if he wasn't? I know it’d be a blow to his pride, but would it be so bad?"
Charani shrugged. "I look at it this way. I know that Felix’s decision to leave the profession was something you liked. If Francois is made King, he’ll be too busy being both King and husband to be a thief. Would that not be a safer?"