It's been four weeks, exactly a month, since Scarlett Solaris took to the throne and has been leading her nation, Goldaria. She and her friends still hurt from the traumatic mental wounds inflicted on them during their captivity weeks prior, but the...
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✰✦✰ Chapter Twenty-Seven ✰✦✰ " Sarinne "
MY HEAD THROBBED horribly as I awoke on the bed. A yawn tugged at my lips and I rubbed my eyes, wincing at the pain almost instantly. The infirmary was bright with torches planted on each wall, in every corner, illuminating this typically cold and unwelcoming space warmly.
Memories of last night struck me as soon as my eyes caught sight of the mirror beside my bed, one that reflected the perfect bruise on my shoulder and the stitches at the very top of my forehead, slightly red and blemished. Dragged by bags beneath them, my eyes hung exhaustedly. Other than that, I looked fine. A little paler than usual, perhaps, but all in all, I appeared healthy and unharmed. At least, physically. Mentally, my heart was palpitating and I was sure whatever I'd eaten at the pub—I'd been so drunk I couldn't remember exactly what—was going to rise into my throat and I'd have to heave the contents. Luckily, I had a feeling all I'd be dealing with today was the nausea. It was nearly just as sickening that I called myself lucky for that.
"I have tea or just plain water," Jacks's voice called through the corridor as his footsteps approached the infirmary. "Unfortunately, they were out of Sparks so you'll have to make do."
I felt my eyes widen as if on their own accord and my pulse spiked. Looking around desperately, I saw that no one else was in here. Not even Miles and I was sure I recalled him being hurt too. That meant Jacks was speaking to me. . .oh, dear Olympia.
As if haunted by who I was back on Crimson Isle, or even by the girl who first met Jacks back then, I sprung out of bed and stumbled into a run, my head reminding me of just how bad of an idea that was. Still, uncaring of how much pain I was enduring and knowing life would throw worse things at me than this, I rushed to hide behind the entrance door, sure I could sneak out before he saw me. If only I hadn't made a fool of myself the night prior, I wouldn't have felt so ashamed.
My head spun dangerously. I started to see dots. Black, blinding dots—
I heard Jacks come in, his figure finally shifting in front of me, shifting into view. Despite last night's events, he still managed to look exceptionally smart; his navy blue suit was clean and smooth as though just ironed; his hair damp and untidy, like he'd just left the shower; his posture just as straight as my head now—much straighter than last night. Last night, the universe had played with me just for the hell of it. Now I was sober and aware and humiliated.
Jacks stopped just beyond the door, a mug of what I presumed to be hot tea and a glass of clear water in his hands. He looked around the large, wide infirmary cluelessly and sighed. "Should've guessed. . ." I pursed my lips to make sure that I wouldn't emit a long breath of relief. Though I was quite thirsty and I was aching to lie back down. None of my body parts were being particularly merciful to me and I wondered if somehow my intoxication last night had caused me to forget more than just what I ate—maybe perhaps also what injured me.
