CHAPTER 13
Belle
“I do not want to spend Christmas Eve night in a hospital!” I protest as Carl and Miss Crabbe help me to my hotel room.
“You’re only going if your fever’s high or you can’t stop vomiting,” Carl grumbles. “But if that is the case, you will go!”
“Ugh, fine.” The nausea is worse than ever, exacerbated by whatever bug is making me congested and feverish. I was fine this morning; I even had breakfast.
Yet over the course of the day, the sickness progressed, starting with a scratchy throat that drinking tea and honey would not soothe and building to a constant pain in my ears and sinuses.
Then the nausea kicked into high gear, and I felt weaker. So now we had to cut our night short on Christmas Eve, and I’m being bundled back to my makeshift office at the hotel. And the no
