The days after I woke up were a strange blur of pain, recovery, and a tension so thick it felt like I could slice through it with a knife. My injuries, though healing, kept me bedridden for longer than I would have liked.
Each day, I felt my strength slowly returning, but it wasn't just the physical wounds that were taking their toll on me. The real battle, it seemed, was the one waged in the silence that hung between Ciara and me.
Ciara, for all her usual aloofness, had become a constant presence in the infirmary. She was there in the mornings when I woke, usually with some kind of food or herbal remedy in hand.
She was there in the afternoons, when the pain flared up again, helping me adjust my position in bed or reminding me to drink the bitter, foul-smelling concoctions that the healers swore by. And she was there in the evenings, when exhaustion would drag me down into a restless sleep, her shadowy figure lingering just out of reach.
Every gesture she made whether it was the way she carefully adjusted my pillows or how she brought me my meals was done with a level of care that I hadn't expected from her.
I noticed the way she would tuck the blanket around me just right, or how she would make sure that the infirmary stayed quiet, shooing away anyone who might disturb me. It was these small, almost tender acts that chipped away at the walls I had built around myself, brick by stubborn brick.
But the atmosphere between us was strained, filled with an awkward tension neither of us seemed willing to break. Whenever our eyes met, I could see the flicker of something in her gaze something that made my heart beat a little faster, my breath catch in my throat.
And when our hands accidentally brushed against each other, the simple touch sent a jolt through me, making me all too aware of her presence. It was maddening, this push and pull of emotions I couldn't control, this confusion that swirled around us like a storm waiting to break.
I hated that I noticed these things. I hated that her care was starting to mean something to me, that it was beginning to undermine the bitterness I had clung to for so long. Because the truth was, I didn't want to feel grateful to her.
I didn't want to acknowledge the way my heart stuttered whenever she was near. But no matter how much I tried to push those feelings down, they kept rising to the surface, unbidden and unwanted.
"Here," Ciara's voice cut through my thoughts, startling me. She stood at the foot of the bed, holding a tray with a steaming bowl of soup. "You need to eat."
I eyed the tray warily, then looked up at her. "I'm not really hungry," I muttered, though my stomach growled softly in protest.
Ciara arched an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "You haven't eaten much today. You need your strength."
She was right, of course. I knew that. But the idea of accepting something from her, something that required me to admit I needed her help, made me stubborn. I crossed my arms over my chest, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at my healing wounds.
"I'm fine," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "I don't need you hovering over me all the time."
Ciara's eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of something hurt? passing through them before she masked it. "I'm not hovering," she replied, her tone cool. "I'm making sure you don't starve."
I wanted to snap back at her, to say something that would push her away, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I found myself staring at her, at the way she stood there with the tray in her hands, looking almost... concerned. It was a look that didn't belong on her, not on the woman who was supposed to be cold and unfeeling.
With a sigh, I relented, uncrossing my arms and reaching for the tray. Our fingers brushed as she handed it to me, and that simple touch sent a shiver down my spine. I saw her flinch slightly too, though she quickly hid it, stepping back to give me space.
"Thanks," I mumbled, not meeting her gaze as I set the tray on my lap. The soup smelled delicious, and despite my earlier protests, I found myself taking a small spoonful. It was warm and comforting, and I hated how much better it made me feel.
Ciara didn't say anything, just watched me for a moment before turning away. She moved to the window, staring out at the castle grounds below, her back to me. The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable, but neither of us seemed to know how to break it.
I studied her from behind, taking in the way her shoulders were slightly tense, the way her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. She looked like she was holding something back, something she didn't want to say.
The sight made my chest tighten with a strange mix of emotionscuriosity, frustration, and something deeper that I didn't want to examine too closely.
"Why are you doing this?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, my voice quieter than I intended.
Ciara turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at me over her shoulder. "Doing what?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.
"This," I said, gesturing vaguely to the tray of food and the room around us. "Why are you taking care of me? You're not... you're not obligated to."
She turned fully to face me now, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, she didn't say anything, just stood there as if weighing her words. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and steady. "You were hurt because and it looked bad. The least I can do is make sure you're taken care of."
I frowned, not satisfied with her answer. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
A flash of irritation crossed her face, and she took a step closer to the bed, her red eyes narrowing slightly.
"What do you want me to say, Aeliana? That I was not fast enough to find you? That I'm trying to make up for all the shit I've put you through?" Her voice grew harsher, a note of frustration creeping in. "Or maybe you want me to admit that I care about you more than I should? Is that what you're looking for?"
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of me. I hadn't expected her to say any of that, hadn't expected her to be so... raw, so honest. And it left me reeling, scrambling to find something to say in response.
"I... I don't know," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just..."
"Just what?" she pressed, her gaze intense, searching my face for answers I wasn't sure I had.
I looked down at the tray in my lap, my hands trembling slightly. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions anger, confusion, longing all tangled together in a mess that I couldn't sort out. I wanted to yell at her, to tell her to leave me alone.
But at the same time, I didn't want her to go. I didn't want to be alone with these feelings, with this strange, uncomfortable truth that was slowly dawning on me.
"I don't know what I want," I finally admitted, my voice small and defeated.
Ciara sighed, the sound heavy with something I couldn't quite name. She moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle me. Her presence was overwhelming, filling the space around me, making it hard to breathe.
"Aeliana," she said softly, her voice a low murmur. "You don't have to know. We don't have to figure everything out right now."
I looked up at her, my eyes searching hers. There was something in her gaze that made my heart ache a vulnerability that I hadn't seen before, a softness that I wasn't sure how to deal with. It scared me, how much I wanted to reach out to her, to close the distance between us.
"I hate this," I whispered, more to myself than to her. "I hate how confused I feel."
Her expression softened, and for a moment, I thought she might reach out, might touch me. But she didn't. Instead, she just nodded, as if she understood exactly what I was feeling.
"I know," she said, her voice gentle. "I hate it too."
The silence that followed wasn't as heavy as before, but it was still there, lingering between us like a ghost. I didn't know what to do with it, didn't know how to bridge the gap between us. But for the first time, I didn't feel like I had to. For the first time, it felt like maybe... just maybe, we could figure it out together.
I took another spoonful of soup, letting the warmth spread through me, easing the tension in my chest. Ciara stayed by my side, not saying anything, just being there. And for now, that was enough.
For now, it was enough to know that neither of us had all the answers. That we were both just trying to make sense of this strange, complicated thing between us. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.