Page 89 of Truthful Deceptions

Tolly sounded a rumble of agreement, but it was stifled. As if he was having to force it out. Curious. I was going to have to ask about all this subtext later.

Mieshorum came back out. “Sloane feels well and is interested in seeing you, Opal.”

“Great,” I said and rushed across the room before Sloane could change her mind. Mieshorum followed me inside. It wasn't as dark as her room had been in medical, but the light was low enough that it took my eyes a moment to adjust.

When I could see, I almost laughed. There wasn't a bed or bunk in the room. Instead there was a giant nest like the one Tolly had made for me on the ship, but even nicer. The number of pillows making up the outside of the nest was enough that she could sit up by resting on them. All the blankets looked both colorful and plush.

“Oh, nice bed,” I said, kneeling down next to the nest and resting my elbows on the pillow rim.

Sloane was near the center, sitting up and supported by even more pillows. Talins really loved their pillows.

I took a moment to examine Sloane. We’d only been gone about twelve days, but she looked much better. I didn't think she'd put on any weight, but there was a healthy glow to her skin, and her eyes were all cleared up.

“I'm glad you're back,” she said. Her voice almost sounded normal, but her expression was hard to read and her words were toneless. I couldn't tell whether she was being sarcastic or genuine.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Better,” she said. “At least I think so.”

That was confusing. “What do you mean you think so?”

“Don't badger Sloane,” Mieshorum warned me. He'd walked over to a far wall to give us the illusion of privacy. Now he took a step toward me as if ready to escort me out of the room.

“I'm not badgering her,” I said. “I honestly don't understand.”

“It's fine, Papa Bear,” Sloane said, and I could hear the affection in her voice. Well this was new.

Mieshorum backed off and returned to leaning against the wall. Sloane rubbed her hands over her face, then met my gaze again.

“I'm not talkative,” she said.

I barely held back my snort. “I noticed that about you.”

She nodded. “I have some stuff going on, in my head. It's, uh, I don't like talking about it, but sometimes it's hard.”

I tilted my head. “What's hard?”

“Figuring out if my brain is lying to me,” she said.

“Lying in what way?”

She stared down at her hands, talking slowly, as if it was hard to pull the words out. “Lying about life. Like, if I should give up or keep going.”

I thought I understood. “Like when you said you were so close to ending it and you were disappointed to be alive?”

“Maybe,” she said. “It's hard to live with pain, and sometimes you just want it to all go away, you know?”

I didn't know whether she meant mental or physical pain, but honestly it didn't matter. They were both debilitating. If Cleo hadn't been pregnant, I don't think either of us would have survived losing Jasper. Trapped in a cold, cruel universe, Baby JJ gave us something to pour our hope into.

“But you don't think that way now?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Other times I'm back where I was when you found me. I guess I'm not actively dying anymore, but my brain doesn't seem to want to understand that.”

I didn't know how to respond and, of course, my morbid sense of humor popped up. “Does your brain realize if you die then it dies too? That's not very survival oriented.”

She blinked, processing my words before a quick smile flashed across her face. “I don’t think the part of me that wants death cares.”

I don't know if I'd felt this awkward in a long time. “I brought my sister, Cleo, back with me,” I blurted.