Pain was the first thing I felt as I drifted back to consciousness. It was dull, a throbbing ache that seemed to radiate from every part of my body. I tried to open my eyes, but the lids felt heavy, like they were weighted down by stones.
The world around me was dim, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something metallic blood, I realized, though it was faint. A slight rustling sound reached my ears, followed by the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing. Someone was in the room with me.
The infirmary. I was in the infirmary.
I forced my eyes open, squinting against the low light. The room came into focus slowly, the blurred edges sharpening until I could make out the details.
The stone walls of Leora Castle's infirmary loomed around me, casting shadows that danced with the flicker of a single candle on the bedside table. My body ached, but it was noticeably less than before. How long had I been out?
As I turned my head slightly, my gaze landed on a figure slumped in a chair beside my bed. Ciara.
Of course, it was Ciara.
She was asleep, her head tilted back against the chair, white hair spilling over her shoulders. Her face, usually so composed and unreadable, was softened in sleep, the sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones less severe.
She looked... vulnerable. Exhausted, even. The sight stirred something in me that I wasn't ready to confront a confusing mix of emotions that I couldn't quite untangle.
I hated this. I hated the way seeing her like this made me feel grateful, almost protective. It was stupid. I was supposed to resent her.
She was the heartbreaker, the one who never cared enough, who always kept everyone at arm's length. And yet, she had saved me.
The memory of the battle came rushing back flashes of pain, the sickening scent of blood, the twisted grin of that rogue demon as it loomed over me. I had been sure it was the end. But then, there was fire purple flames that roared to life, consuming the demon in a blaze of heat and fury. Ciara's flames.
My pride gnawed at me, angry that I owed her my life. But beneath that anger, there was something else something that felt a lot like gratitude. And that made me even angrier.
I shifted slightly in the bed, wincing as the movement sent a spike of pain through my side. The soft sound was enough to wake Ciara. Her eyes fluttered open, those sharp red eyes locking onto mine almost immediately. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence between us thick with unspoken words.
Her expression was unreadable, but I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way they were slightly bloodshot as if she hadn't slept in days. It was unsettling to see her like this, so different from the cold, controlled person I was used to.
The air between us was heavy, charged with something I didn't want to name. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say? Thanks? How do you thank someone who's saved your life but also shattered your heart? How do you express gratitude when it feels like swallowing glass?
Finally, I forced myself to speak. "Thank you." The words came out softer than I intended, my voice wavering with emotion I didn't want to acknowledge.
Ciara's eyes flickered with something surprise, maybe? before she quickly masked it, her face settling back into that familiar unreadable expression.
She nodded once, a brief, almost curt acknowledgment, but didn't say anything. The silence between us stretched on, growing more awkward with each passing second.
I tried to push myself up, but my body protested, muscles straining as pain shot through me. I gritted my teeth, determined to at least sit up.
That's when I noticed I was dressed only in a bra and shorts, my bloodied clothes nowhere to be seen. A flush of embarrassment heated my cheeks, and I quickly pulled the blanket up to cover myself.
Ciara's gaze flickered to my exposed skin for the briefest of moments before she looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
I didn't know whether to be more embarrassed or amused. Ciara never blushed. She was always so damn composed, so in control. But here she was, caught off guard, just like me.
The awkwardness between us was suffocating. I wanted to crawl under the covers and hide from it, hide from her. I hated feeling like this vulnerable, exposed, unsure of myself. Especially around her. She was the last person I wanted to see me like this.
"I... I'm fine," I muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. It was a lie, of course. I was anything but fine, but I couldn't stand the thought of her seeing how weak I felt.
Ciara didn't respond immediately. She just stood there, her gaze fixed somewhere past me, as if she were lost in thought. I could see the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders were slightly hunched, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It was strange, seeing her so... unsettled.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low and controlled. "You need to rest." It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order, one that brooked no argument.
I bristled at her tone, a flare of anger sparking to life inside me. "I can take care of myself, you know."
Her gaze snapped back to mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of something anger, frustration, concern? in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by that infuriating mask of indifference.
"I never said you couldn't," she replied, her voice cool and detached. "But right now, you need to rest. You're not going to help anyone by pushing yourself too hard."
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her exactly where she could shove her advice, but the words died in my throat. Because as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. My body was screaming for rest, and the thought of trying to push myself any further made my muscles ache even more.
Instead, I just glared at her, hoping she'd take the hint and leave me alone. But she didn't move, didn't budge from her spot beside the bed. Her presence was suffocating, and I could feel the walls closing in around me, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on my chest.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ciara sighed, a sound so soft I almost didn't hear it. "Get some rest, Aeliana," she said, her voice softer this time, almost gentle. It threw me off balance, and I didn't know how to respond.
Before I could find my voice, she turned and walked toward the door. For a moment, I thought she was going to leave without another word, but she hesitated, her hand on the doorknob.
She stood there for a moment, her back to me, and I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand gripped the doorknob so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Then, without another word, she opened the door and stepped out, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room.
As the door clicked shut behind her, I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My heart was still pounding, my emotions a tangled mess of confusion, anger, and something else I couldn't quite put a name to. The room felt colder without her in it, the shadows on the walls darker, more oppressive.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, trying to ward off the chill that had settled into my bones.
The pain in my body had dulled to a steady ache, but the pain in my chest was sharper, more insistent. It was stupid, really. I shouldn't feel like this. I shouldn't care this much. But I did, and that was the worst part.
I hated how Ciara made me feel weak, vulnerable, exposed. I hated that she had seen me like this, that she had been the one to save me. And most of all, I hated that I couldn't bring myself to hate her for it.
Because no matter how much I tried to deny it, there was a part of me that was grateful she had been there, that she had saved me. But that gratitude was tangled up with so many other emotions resentment, anger, confusion that I didn't know how to untangle them.
I lay back on the bed, staring up at the stone ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. But the more I thought about it, the more confused I became. The only thing I knew for sure was that things between Ciara and me were more complicated than I had ever wanted them to be.
And that terrified me more than any demon ever could.