Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(35)

But then, my head was lifted up and gravity did its work. The water found its way toward my throat, soothing the raw places inside me: tongue and cheeks and through my chest. The cold traveled all the way into my stomach, spreading around. A strange, uncomfortable sensation. But water. Water. Glorious water. I opened my mouth for more.

Aaru lowered my head and took up the cup once more. Of course. He could fit only one arm through the hole, and his range of movement was limited.

He poured another mouthful of water into me, helped me swallow, and then withdrew. “Wait for more.”

I didn’t want to wait. I was so, so thirsty. More thirsty than I’d been in my life. But he’d taken the cup and I could hardly move, so I didn’t have a choice but to do as he said.

And if he wasn’t real, this was the best, most vivid hallucination I’d ever had. Water. Little streams of mineral-bitter water. Did Drakontos sols crave water this much?

“Did she drink?” Gerel hissed from across the hall. “How is she? Tell me what’s happening.”

“Yes,” he said. “Ill, but alive.” How strange. Suddenly, the silent boy was my voice.

“Good.” Gerel almost sounded relieved, which was odd. I’d have thought she would classify almost dying of dehydration as a personal failing of mine. I should have had the good sense to draw water from the air.

A few minutes later, Aaru gave me another sip, again pressing his arm through the hole to tip the cup, then to lift my head so I could swallow. It got easier every time, and with the water came renewed energy. I couldn’t talk yet—my tongue was still too swollen—but while Aaru was replacing the cup under the drip, I managed to move my hand toward the hole.

Even that small movement was difficult, leaving me panting, but it was more than I’d been able to do an hour ago.

When Aaru squeezed back under his bed, I forced my eyes open, groaning at the grit and sting and brightness. It was day—or what passed for day in the Pit—and the noorestones were lit. They’d always seemed so dim before, but after days in the darkness, even the distant light was too much. It felt as though my eyes would burn away.

Some of the water Aaru had accidentally poured on my face had fallen into the corners of my eyes, though, which helped ease the pain. My time in the darkness had sucked away all my tears, too.

“Don’t rush,” Aaru said.

He was right. The harder I tried to push, the more damage I risked doing to myself. I let my eyes fall shut again, but pressed my hand toward the hole. Toward him.

Raggedly, I tapped a message onto the floor: one long, a pause, a long, a short, and two more longs. ::Thank you.::

Cool fingers pressed over the back of my hand. A short message fell on my knuckles, but I was asleep before he finished.

THE NOORESTONES STILL glowed when I awakened.

Maybe they glowed again, from a day passing, but it didn’t feel like an entire day had gone. I could taste the bite of ceiling water on my tongue. Aaru’s hand covered mine. On the far side of the cellblock, low voices discussed how much food they’d eat if they had an infinite amount. Everything was as it had been before, so I must have slept for less than an hour.

I hated the steady light. Like the unchanging darkness, it offered no indication of how long I’d been out. But . . . light. I was grateful for the light. I wanted to bathe in it.

My breathing must have changed, or my fingers twitched, because Aaru patted my knuckles—in comfort, not in code—and withdrew to fetch the cup.

A moment later, more water fell inside me. I swallowed easily this time, drinking until there was nothing left. When Aaru replaced the cup beneath the leak, the drops of water made short, flat plops.

I wanted to thank him again, but I couldn’t force my mouth to make the words, and I couldn’t force myself to tap loudly enough for him to hear.

But then his hand moved toward mine, his rough fingers floating across sensitive skin. From my fingertips to my knuckles to the back of my wrist. He settled there—over, not on—and tapped a quick message:

::You’re welcome.::

Because I’d missed it before.

I could hardly believe I remembered the code. Granted, he’d used the basic abbreviations he’d taught me, and he used my same crawling pace so that I could keep up, but I remembered. I understood. That was incredible.

::Where?:: I asked. I hoped he could fill in the missing words I didn’t have the energy to spell out.

::They came while you were in the bath.::

Oh, the bath. I remembered that. Water. Feeling clean. Tirta inspecting my twists. That was a good memory: human touch.

At home, few people touched me. Not Mother and Father. Nor Zara. Why should they? Strangers certainly were not allowed. Hristo, as my personal guard, felt it unprofessional unless he was saving my life. Ilina could, but rarely did, now that we were older. Krasimir did, because it was her job. She was always efficient and careful as she worked. And kind, too, of course.

But Tirta hadn’t checked my hair because it was her job. She’d done it because she wanted to help. Otherwise, in the Pit, there’d been Altan and Sarannai and other guards. I didn’t want to think about those.

And now there was Aaru. Efficient, like Krasimir. Thoughtful, like Tirta. It must have been horribly dull for him to tap the code so slowly, but I hadn’t been up to his speed even before the lights went out. Now, half-dead from dehydration . . . definitely not.