I slept for the better part of the next two days, only rising to use the bathroom and pretend to eat the food Jones brought me. Wood chips and ash held more appeal than the eggs, bacon, sandwiches, and vegetables. There were all fixed exactly how I liked them, but it didn't matter. Nothing compared to the food I ate in Faerie.

It didn't help that I had no appetite either. Even thinking of eating something from Faerie made my stomach contract painfully in protest. My skin was clammy and doing the simplest things left me out of breath. I considered asking Jones to take me back to the doctor, but the fear of being placed on a psychiatric hold held me back. It didn't matter, anyway. I knew what was wrong with me.

"All right, Luna bug," Jones said on the fourth day. He dropped a laundry basket at the foot of the bed. "I have to work this evening."

"Okay," I said, hand under my cheek as I rested in bed and stared out my bedroom window, searching for the joy I used to find in the autumn morning.

"Some of us didn't inherit enough wealth to never work again."

"Sure."

He put his hand on his hips and fluttered his false eyelashes so hard I thought they might fall off. "What gives? You usually throw a fit when I bring up money like that."

Rolling to my back, I pushed up, wincing as my bones creaked from staying in one position for so long. "Do you want me to throw a fit?"

"No." Jones poked out his bottom lip. "I just want you to be the old Luna. Not this sad little mess you've been since the accident."

"The mugging, right?"

"What else could I be referring to?"

A hard hit against the back of my head. Water burning my lungs. Punishing fingers digging into my armpits and hoisting me out of the icy depths. Flickers of consciousness. Blades biting into my skin. Fading away. Voices...

More of my last moments in Faerie came back to me every day, and with each memory, the more I was certain I hadn't hallucinated everything. A concussion usually took things away, right? How could I have built such a vivid fantasy because of an injury?

"Not this again." He yanked open the curtains and pointed at the world outside the window. "That's the real world out there. I think it's about time you go out in it and live."

"I will." Eventually. "I don't feel well."

"Are you in pain? The doctor said—"

Medicine wouldn't fix this. With the memories came the realization that I'd stayed in Faerie for more than thirty days. Lorcan warned me what would happen if I came back to the human realm after being gone that long. I was going to waste away to nothing, constantly craving the world I left.

But the part that made no sense was how had I come back? I hadn't been in the cave another month. I was sure of that. Maybe a few days at most, and that was what gave me hope. If I could leave Faerie before the full moon, then I could get back before it, too.

Jones spied the uneaten breakfast. "I'd bet you would feel a lot better if you ate something."

"I'm not hungry." I sniffled, then choked as a thick, metallic substance flooded my tongue.

"Shit," Jones shouted, snatching up a towel and pressing it to my face.

I glanced down. Blood spread and stained the fluffy white material. He pushed my head back and pinched the bridge of my nose, holding it tight until the flow finally eased up.

"Thank you." Red smeared my fingers and left smudges on the glass of juice I picked up to wash the acrid taste from my tongue.

"Do you usually get nosebleeds? I don't remember you ever having one?"

"The only time I've ever had a nosebleed was when I got hit in the face during a softball game as a kid."

Horror twisted Jones' expression as he disposed of the towel. He shuffled backward toward the bedroom door, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You going to be good for a little while? I need to run a couple of errands."

"Sure."

I didn't have the energy to wonder why he was suddenly being so weird. He'd spent the last several days caring for my every whim. Blood might have been the last straw.

"You're going to get up today, right? Maybe take a shower?"

"Sure."

"Luna."

Huffing, I threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, barely suppressing the wave of dizziness that came over me. "Look. I'm up. I'm going to the bathroom."

Satisfied, Jones stepped out of the room, but he didn't close the door all the way. Before I could cross the room, his voice—loud even when whispering—reached me, and a spark of interest drew me to listen. Who was he so desperate to call?

"It's not working." Almost a minute passed. "I know what you said, but...forget...sick...not right."

He must be pacing, his words coming and going as he roamed my apartment. Legs trembling, I held onto the wall and pressed my ear closer to the door to hear better. A bead of sweat formed on my upper lip, and my nightgown stuck to my damp skin.

"Change—Luna," Jones said, pulling open the door. He ended the call the moment he found me leaning against the wall. "What happened?"

"I got dizzy and almost fell. The wall caught me." Part of it was true. I could tell him I was eavesdropping, especially since he was talking about me, but a gut instinct warned me to keep that to myself.

Jones put an arm around my waist and supported me to the bathroom. While I sat on the toilet, he ran a hot bath, adding bubbles and scented oils to the water. The chemical perfumes burned my nose after weeks of bathing in magical flower petals.

"There," he said, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it in the hamper. "A bath is probably safer than a shower. I'm going to be in the living room."

"I thought you were leaving." I sank into the water with a sigh. This did make me feel better.

"I'm going to stay until you're out. Can't go through all this trouble just for you to drown, right?"

"Right." Eyes drifting shut, I added, "Thanks, Jones."

"Anytime girl."

The door clicked shut, and the first tears came. I let them fall, dripping off my chin and splattering against the bubbles. I was going mad. That had to be the truth. Too many novels and too much distancing myself from the world had forced me to turn to fantasy to let my inner wild child loose.

A sob rattled my weak frame. How bad was it I wanted that to be true more than I wanted my time in Faerie to be a reality? Being crazy...well, I could live with that, but knowing that world was out there. Knowing that Calix had betrayed us like that...but still reaching for him in my dreams...

I didn't think I could live that way.