All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(40)

‘Mr Kipling told me to return this to you.’ Simon Green placed my cross into my palm.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I said. I put the chain around my neck, but when I went to clasp it, my fingers were too tired to work the tiny mechanism.

‘Here! Let me,’ Simon Green said. He lifted my hair, his fingertips grazing the back of my neck. ‘There,’ he said. ‘You must be exhausted, Anya. I brought food if you’re hungry.’

I shook my head. ‘Maybe some water?’

Simon Green handed me a Thermos with water. I drank it down in one gulp. Some of it spilt out the side of my mouth, and I felt bad at the waste.

‘You were thirsty,’ Simon Green commented.

‘Yes, I—’ Suddenly, I knew I was going to throw up. I pressed the button that rolled down the window, and I managed to aim most of it outside the car. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have had so much to drink at once. I’m kind of dehydrated.’

Simon Green nodded. ‘Don’t apologize. Once all of this is settled, I’m going to personally file a complaint about your treatment at Liberty.’

I couldn’t think about any of that, so I changed the subject. ‘How did this come about?’ I asked. ‘My release, I mean.’

‘Over the weekend, more and more cases of Fretoxin poisoning started appearing at city hospitals. I think the number ended up being in the low hundreds, and so it became clear the contamination was in the supply.’

I nodded.

‘Still, I wasn’t able to get anyone at the DA’s office to listen to me. Mr Kipling is the one with the friends – both in your family and in law enforcement. People were mistrustful of me. And despite the fact that you’re Leonyd Balanchine’s daughter, no one in the Balanchine organization was willing to help either. Not that they wouldn’t have helped eventually, but the timing was most unfortunate. The Balanchines had a five-alarm fire of their own to deal with – the poison was in their chocolate.’

‘You must have been very persistent,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Well, actually, Anya, I can’t take all the credit. There was one stroke of good luck. You go to school with a boy named Goodwin Delacroix, I believe?’

‘Win.’

‘Several times, I had spoken to your friend Scarlet Barber about your situation. And it was Scarlet, I believe, who went to Win, who—’

‘Went to his father. Yes, that makes sense.’

‘And from that point on, the ball started rolling. The problem had been your name, you see. Though you’re, of course, unconnected to a supply-wide poisoning, you still carry the Balanchine name and I think the DA’s office was reluctant to release a Balanchine in the middle of this circus. It took a personal connection—’

I yawned. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Perfectly fine, Anya. You’re tired. I’ve never understood what’s so rude about yawning anyway.’

‘I’m not that tired,’ I insisted. ‘I’m just . . .’ My eyelids were fluttering shut. ‘I’ll have to thank Scarlet when I go back to school . . . And Win, too . . .’ I yawned again and then I fell asleep.

X. i convalesce; receive visitors; hear news of gable arsley

WHEN I WOKE, I WAS IN MY OWN BED and it was almost as if the whole ordeal had never happened.

Almost, I say, because Natty lay beside me and Leo was dozing in my desk chair. These were not our usual sleeping arrangements.

‘Are you up?’ Natty whispered.

I told her that I thought I was.

‘Imogen said we should let you rest,’ Natty reported. ‘But Leo and me didn’t want to miss it if you woke up so we’ve been staying in here mostly.’

‘What day is it?’ I asked.

‘Thursday,’ she said.

I had slept for two days. ‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’

‘I already went. It’s night.’ Make that two and a half days.

Leo stirred in his chair. ‘Natty, you shouldn’t talk! You’ll wake—’ And then he saw me. ‘Annie!’ Leo jumped into bed and wrapped his arms around me. ‘Oh, Annie, I missed you so much!’ He kissed my forehead and my cheeks.

I laughed. ‘I missed you, too.’

When I reached up to embrace Leo, I noticed that my arm was attached to an IV. ‘What’s this?’ I asked.

Apparently, Imogen had declared me malnourished and dehydrated. ‘Poor Annie,’ said my sister.

The next day, I wanted to go back to school – I was so behind – but Imogen wouldn’t let me. ‘You’re still too weak,’ she said.

‘I’m feeling much better,’ I assured her.

‘You’ll feel even better on Monday,’ was Imogen’s reply.

I reminded her that she was Nana’s nurse, not mine. Imogen did not find this argument in the least compelling. ‘Go back to bed, Annie.’

Instead of doing that, I decided to see how Nana was faring.

I went into Nana’s room and kissed her on the cheek. She immediately recognized me, which I took to be an encouraging sign. Maybe she was having one of her good days.

‘Hello, Anyaschka,’ Nana said. She squinted at me. ‘You’re looking very thin.’

‘Don’t you remember? Imogen told you that I was being questioned about a crime.’