"He wouldn't know." It was going to kill her to drink it. "He would know. He knows everything. And where you are concerned, he can get a mite testy. So drink." She sighed in resignation, and tried to force herself to swallow the juice without disturbing Mikhail. She knew Jacques was right about Mikhail. He would know if she didn't drink it, and it seemed so desperately important to him. Her stomach rolled, heaved in protest. Raven gagged, coughed. "Call to him," Jacques instructed. "Let him help you." "He's so weak, he doesn't need this." "He will not go to sleep until you are taken care of," Jacques persisted. "Call him, or we will never get out of here." "You even sound like him," she murmured. , I'm sorry. I need your help with this. He sent her warmth, love. The soft command allowed her to drain the glass and keep the juice in her stomach. She rinsed the glass in the sink and turned it upside down. "You were right. He wouldn't let them treat him until I drank it. He's so stubborn."