Then James moves to stand by Astrid's bed before stooping down so that he's eye-level with her. "Astrid, is there something we should know?"
She blinks at him with her big blue eyes, as though uncertain how to answer.
"I'm not here to judge you," James adds in a soothing voice. "Only to protect. But I need to know how best to take care of you."
Astrid glances between James and me, as if debating with herself.
"And don't worry about his friends," James adds. "I've already sent word to them that there is a family emergency, and have requested for them to return home. And Brandon only wants to help as well. But I can make him leave, too, if you like."
I turn to James. "Hey, wait a moment-"
"It doesn't matter," Astrid says with a heavy sigh. "Even if I try to tell just you, I'll end up fainting again."
James takes Astrid's hand and gives her a very concerned expression. "And why is that?"
"I'd pass out if I told you that, too." Astrid lowers her gaze.
I blink. "What on earth? What would keep you from telling us? Is this some elaborate con?"
Astrid and James both turn to glare at me.
"I'm not saying it is," I add quickly. "But what other explanations are there?"
"Curses," James offers.
I almost fall off my seat to hear sensible James say such a think like it's actually a possibility. But then Astrid nods.
James takes both Astrid's hands in his, and it strikes me how small hers are, and how massive his. "Astrid, just nod or shake your head. Are you still in danger from the individual who... cursed you?"
Astrid considers this for a moment and begins to shake her head. Then she apparently reconsiders, because she nods.
"Is there anything more we can do for you to help you with this?"
Her face transforms like she's the gracious host at a ball, and not a patient in the hospital on our tab as she grants James a gracious smile. "You've already done more than I could ever have asked. But there is nothing more to do but wait and pray."
Astrid's gaze cuts to me, and I realize those words are meant only for James. She still expects something from me. But what? What was it she was complaining about? Us not falling love fast enough? How is that connected to any of all this? Reality isn't supposed to follow fairytale templates.
But the sense of responsibility I feel for my part in our not falling faster grows into guilt, and then panic. What is happening to me?
I clear my throat. "I need to use the restroom real quick."
And then I flee.
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