May woke up a few hours later. It was evening, wasn't it? She would swear it was the middle of the night, but there was some light in the room, which unsettled her.
She tried sitting on the bed, to remember where she was and why, when everything came back to her. She was caught by Raimund Pierce while she was trying to veer the radio signals. She had to go there on her own two feet and move the antenna because her friend couldn't catch enough signal from where he was.
Then, she had been tortured by Raimund. He wanted to know the Oracle's name, but she wouldn't have told it to anyone alive. First of all, because she didn't know it.
Then, when the shocks didn't bring much, Raimund had delivered her to Chris Lindt. She had no clue why, but it could have been worse. He could send her home, and her grandfather would have found out. That would have been a disaster.
She failed at sitting on the bed, but she saw a cup on the bedside table. Her throat ran dry at that sight. She was thirsty.
Or maybe not, but seeing the cup made her want to drink.
She reached out to it without thinking twice, and the warmth of it was comforting. She felt the thirst intensify, so she lifted the cup and tried bringing it to her mouth. She failed. Miserably.
The cup rolled off the bed, spilling the hot, sticky tea on the blanket and May's fingers. She sighed, unhappy to have just lost her source of water and - likely - of calories. She didn't feel it, but she must have been hungry. After all, she hadn't eaten for a couple of days!
She observed the cup which in the meantime had fallen on the floor and broken into many small pieces, shattering on the carpet and even under the bed.
She almost started crying when a figure approached her. It was Chris, who was in the room. She noticed the laptop open on the lower table a few metres from the bed. There were two armchairs, a sofa, and a table in between. Chris was working while she slept, and he stopped when he noticed she was awake.
"You are awake," he said while getting up from his place and stepping closer to the bed. "Shall I call the doctor? How do you feel?"
"Just... water," she said.
She hadn't had the energy to turn and check, so she hadn't seen there was a carafe and a few glasses on the bedside table on the other side. The bed was huge, meant for two people. She was sleeping on the right because Chris had left her there. She hadn't even had time to move in the middle before falling asleep.
Those shocks must have cured her insomnia, even though just temporarily.
She didn't even try grabbing the glass. She didn't want to cause other damage. She just let Chris help her drink.
"Slower," he whispered. He patted her back when she choked on it, afraid that even touching her like that would hurt her. She did look delicate and frail, even though he knew she must have survived torture during Raimund's interrogation. What else would have happened with that shock collar? Of course, it was an interrogation.
For what, though, he couldn't understand. What could the Prime Minister's granddaughter know?
"I told the cook to make some vegetable soup. I just need a few minutes to warm it up," he continued. He was getting used to not receiving an answer. Her silence was understandable, after all. She was in a potentially dangerous place.
"Where is the butler?" she hummed, noticing only at that moment how they were alone.
"He's resting, just like the other workers. They don't do night turns."
"How?" she asked. "Didn't you put it in the contract?"
It was maybe the longest sentence he had heard her say. How disappointing it was about contract issues.
"I didn't."
"Why? Did you forget?"
"I didn't see the use of having people awake during the night. I've never needed them before."
Even while he lived in his parents' house, he had loved peace and quiet during the night. If he needed something, he could just get it by himself. However, he wasn't sure how to explain that to May, a girl raised in a house full of servants at all hours. He had never been there, but he could imagine them buzzing around the owner just like the members of his party buzz around him at the Senate or the Government Palace.
"Let me go heat up the soup. You need to eat, according to the doctor," he said, cutting the conversation short. It was a weird hour to talk about servants, wasn't it?
And Mayrose needed to eat, then rest more.
"I'll eat alone," she said.
He nodded. Of course, he hadn't even tried imagining her being fed. Her fingers were unstable but, with some luck, she would have been able to use a spoon.
"Can I sit there?" she said, pointing at the sofa.
"Sure," he hummed. "I'll help you get there."
Without any forewarning, he reached out to her. He didn't just grab her but waited for her to accept being carried. He noticed her red ears but didn't say a word.
It was unexpected. Was she shy? Or was it just because her pride was hit?
But, even in that case, he couldn't imagine the Prime Minister blushing because of his pride. He would have likely got revenge, rather than hiding his expression behind his hair.
"I forgot to tell you," he said on the way, as a means to distract them both from the close contact. She was so soft that he wished to sink his face in her neck, inhale more of her scent and feel her skin with his lips.
But he couldn't because he was a gentleman. Also, the way she tried not to move at all made him want to tease her, to see whether she was as innocent and shy as she looked.
"I called your grandfather after you fell asleep, but since it was late, he couldn't come to pick you up. He'll be here tomorrow."
At those words, she froze. No more shy reactions, no more red ears.
She didn't look up at him, so he couldn't try reading her expression. But her muscles were so stiff that he could guess she was feeling uneasy. Was it because she had to stay a whole night in his house?
Or, even if it didn't make sense, because she didn't want to meet her grandfather?