RIVAL’S POV
The trick to faking sickness isn’t in the slump of your shoulders or the stagger of your steps.
It’s in the eyes.
Glaze them. Make them look like the world’s turned down its volume. That way, people stop looking for what you’re really carrying.
By morning, I had the act down.
I limped into the infirmary wing at 0940 hours, hood low, skin pale from the night I’d spent with my head under cold water. Fever was easy to fake when you were already running on adrenaline and four hours of sleep.
Miss Ruth’s domain was quiet. Too quiet. The air smelled of antiseptic and metal — and something faintly sweet, like flowers left too long in stagnant water.
The beds were lined up in military order. Curtains drawn halfway. Every drawer labelled. Everything perfect.
Which meant it was a
