Listed: Volume VI by Noelle Adams Page B

hours.”
    It
was a reasonable compromise, and Paul agreed. It was ridiculously hard for him
to even leave the room, though. He showered quickly, put on clean clothes, and
then swallowed down a sandwich and soup that room service had brought up. He
barely tasted it, but he finished it quickly so he could get back to Emily.
    When
he returned to the bedroom, he saw that she was still sleeping peacefully. Her
fever hadn’t broken, but at least it had lowered enough for her to sleep. Amy
went to her room to rest, saying she wouldn’t be more than a couple of hours,
and he should wake her if anything changed.
    Paul
sank into the chair where he’d spent most of the last three days.
    “Paul,”
Emily gasped, her eyes opening without warning after several minutes of
silence.
    “I’m
here,” he said, leaning over to cool down her face. Her hair was still wet from
the bath, and it clung to her hot skin.
    Emily
turned to look at him, and it was clear she knew who he was now. She smiled at
him weakly. “Hi.”
    He
smiled back, almost choking on a surge of emotion. “Hi.”
    “You
should get some sleep.” She shifted beneath the covers and pulled her arms out
from beneath the sheets to rest them on top instead.
    “I’m
fine,” Paul lied. “This chair is comfortable.”
    Emily
snorted, but her expression changed when she looked at his face again. “What
happened to you?”
    Paul
frowned, confused and worried by her flare of anxiety. “What do you mean?”
    “You…you’re…beat
up.”
    He
remembered that she’d punched him twice earlier. He’d barely noticed, but his
face must be starting to bruise from the blows. He gave a nonchalant shrug.
“It’s nothing.”
    “I
did that,” she said, licking her dry lips.
    Paul
reached for the bottle of water beside the bedside and helped her take a few
sips. When her eyes still studied him anxiously, he quirked his mouth. “I’m
sure I deserved it. Don’t worry about it, baby.”
    She
fumbled for his hand until he offered it to her. She brought it up to her lips
and kissed the palm.
    The
fond little gesture was almost too much for Paul. He looked away and breathed
shakily.
    She
gave him a moment to recover, but, when he looked back at her again, she asked,
“Do you feel up to reading more Hamlet ? We just have the last act to
go.”
    “Of
course,” Paul agreed immediately, standing up to get the book from the top of
the desk in the room. He'd been reading to her from it in her lucid moments for
the last three days.
    He
didn’t actually feel up to reading. His mind was so blurred with fatigue and
emotional strain that he could barely focus on the words, and his voice rasped
painfully as he spoke.
    He
would deny Emily nothing that was in his power to give her, however, and this
was one of the few things he could.
    So
he began to read Act Five out loud, and he continued to read, even when Emily
started to shift restlessly in the bed with discomfort. He paused a few times
to cool her down a little and give her more medication, but otherwise he read
straight through.
    He
tried not to think much about what he was reading, particularly when characters
started to die. The reflections on death at the end were almost too much, and
he could barely get through Hamlet’s dying speech.
    Tears
were streaming down Emily’s face when he finished the final lines of the play,
with Fortinbras's instructions for Hamlet's body to be carried away in honor.
    He
had to look away again for a moment, but then he managed to ask, somewhat
casually, “So what did you think?”
    She
was pale and incredibly weak, and obviously in a lot of pain, but she smiled at
him through her tears. “I loved it. It was the right one to…to end with.” Her
face twisted with another surge of grief.
    Paul
couldn’t stand. He just couldn’t stand it. Every instinct in his body was
screaming at him to escape. It hurt too much. He couldn’t remember anything
hurting more.
    He
couldn’t leave her, but he