Chapter 52 Just a friend?
Ira’s POV
Cath sighs and folds her arms across her chest, watching me the way people do when they think you have reached a conclusion without enough reason to back it up.
Her eyes move slowly over my face, like she is trying to understand where my thinking went wrong.
I should be the one looking at her like that.
How did she even come to the idea that the proud, powerful, always annoyed commander of this base, who barely tolerates people, has any kind of interest in me?
Sexual… maybe. But I bet he's just a horny dog who can barely control himself when he's alone with a woman. Anything aside that makes no sense.
And yet she looks completely sure.
“No,” she says firmly, flipping her hair back like she has a significant point. “He stayed because he was panicking.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she doesn't let me.
“He looked like he was scared you were not going to wake up. And when the healer said your breathing was not normal, Ira, I swear he looked like he was ready to tear the walls down.”
My eyes drop to the blanket pulled up to my waist. I follow the faint lines in the worn-out fabric, pretending not to listen, even though every word sinks deeper than the last.
“You blacked out right after he tackled you,” Cath continues, her voice calmer now. “I think he felt guilty. Which is strange. Commander Ruel does not show soft emotions. Ever. And he would never try to save a servant, talkless of standing by her bed for hours.”
I push down the warmth trying to rise in my chest, forcing it back where it belongs. To the darkest pit of forgetfulness.
And yet.
I remember how soft his voice sounded when he said my name.
The warmth of his hand on my shoulder, steady and grounding.
The tight line of his jaw as he looked down at me… He almost looked worried. But barely two minutes after, I learned I had mistaken anger for worry.
“You are right Cath,” I mutter, keeping my voice flat. “He never shows emotions like that. You must be imagining it.”
Cath snorts. “Sure. And I must have imagined him refusing to leave your bedside.”
She leans closer, her eyes brightening up. “Or maybe he really enjoys your service.” She adds with a wink.
It takes one dangerous second for the meaning to sink in. My chest tightens, and I cough remembering everyone does think I am his pleasure body.
I glance down at my arm as Cath lightly touches my elbow, either missing or ignoring the change in my expression.
“Or,” she continues lightly, “people say feelings can grow into something more if you spend enough time together. Maybe he is starting to care.”
I roll my eyes so hard it nearly gets lost in the back of my head.
“Can we stop talking about him?” I ask, sharper than I mean to.
She barely pauses. “Okay, okay,” she says quickly. “But when you collapsed, I thought my heart was going to fall right out of my chest.”
She pulls a stool closer and sits, moving until her knees touch the side of my bed.
“Really?” I raise a brow, holding back a scoff as I remember how fast she ran to safety with Sia, leaving me behind.
“Yes,” she insists. “One moment you were there, and the next it was like only your body was left. Like you were somewhere else. Sia was so frightened she squeezed my hand so hard that it's still red.”
I don't spot the redness she's talking about, although she keeps rubbing her left wrist like the mark should suddenly appear.
She keeps talking, but her words start to fade as my thoughts drift.
I do not know what caused the vision, but I know it fed on the chaos. The shouting, the running, the fear in the air…
Somehow violence always finds its way into my dreams. There's always a war, screaming, endless running filled with panic.
I need to stop lying to myself.
The little girl in my dream is not someone else.
I remember the day Felisha found me in the woods. When she asked me my name, I did not think. I did not need to search my memory, even when I'd never said my name to anyone else.
I just said Ira. That day it felt like just as Felisha was learning my name, I was also learning my name.
And in my dreams, the girl is always called Valira.
Why are the names so close? Why does it always feel like I've lived the scenes playing out?
“Has this ever happened before?” Cath asks gently, pulling me back. “Or do you think it is stress?”
I look at her, suddenly tired of talking. “Thank you, Cath,” I say carefully. “But I am fine. It was just an accident.”
She shakes her head. “Do you know what it feels like to see someone you talk to every day suddenly look empty? I kept calling your name. You did not blink. You only reacted when the commander yelled your name. You were not breathing right, Ira.”
I swallow, trying not to allow what happened earlier happen again as the image of the hallway pushes back into my mind.
The boy’s glowing eyes, the promise he made– it's all still ringing in my head.
Maybe he died like the others who've been in my dream.
Does that mean I lost my whole family? Was he even family? Or just a friend?
That hallway was massive, way too large for normal people. It looked like what the pack house would be if I ever got the opportunity to step foot in there.
Does that mean I was born into something important and forgot it? Or perhaps I was just a maid’s child and the boy, Boo, was my friend.
I run a hand through my hair, frustrated by thoughts that are clearly leading nowhere.
Cath suddenly straightens, looking behind her.
I follow her gaze, seeing a much older woman there. Her grey hair is in two long braids casually resting across her neck.
“That is enough talking.” the older woman says, causing Cath to pout while she steps into the ward, a pen and paper in her hands. Her eyes lock onto me at once.
“So,” she says. “You are awake.”
“Yes ma'am,” I mutter, suddenly anxious for no reason.
“Head?” she asks, her brow lifting when I stay silent, confused by her one-worded question.
“How's your head feeling?” She clarifies softly.
“Uh.. f..fine.” I stutter, relaxing a bit when Cath touches my shoulder.
“Vision?” the woman continues.
“I can uh… see?” I mutter, unsure why I should be asked that.
“Dizziness?”
“No.”
She presses two fingers to my temple. Pain flashes behind my eyes, but I bite down on my lip.
“Catherine, give her some pain relievers and tell the guard at the door to walk her back to her room. She should be fine by tomorrow.” She mutters, already turning away.