Chapter 9
The room was a haven of silence. Lemira opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. Language seemed utterly inadequate. She had tried countless times to explain herself to her brothers, only to be met with disbelief.
Lucian’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he released her hand. Disappointment filled his eyes as he looked at her. “If you keep going down this path, I can’t protect you when Asher returns. Think about what you’re doing.” He then left the room.
Lemira sighed in relief, leaning back against her pillow. What was there to think about? She’d bent over backward to please them, only to be cast aside and die miserably in a mental institution, just like in her previous life? Not a chance.
“Here, catch!”
A cold pack, wrapped in a bandage, suddenly appeared before her. Lemira applied it to her bruised cheek, glancing at the man beside her. “Thanks for earlier,” she murmured.
His voice was cool and distant. “Why didn’t you explain yourself?”
Lemira lowered her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve tried explaining countless times, even showed them proof? They still didn’t believe me. They just thought I was lying.”
A brief silence followed. Lemira didn’t feel like explaining further; most people didn’t believe her, dismissing her as disobedient.
“It’s hard not to believe you.”
Lemira was surprised. Did he really believe her?
Orion stepped closer, placing his hand on her forehead. “Your fever’s gone down.” His touch was cool and soothing. She glanced at the scar on his wrist. “Is that from an accident, too?”
Orion’s hand froze momentarily before he withdrew it, beginning to remove the empty IV bag. After a pause, he replied, “Yeah, an accident.”
He leaned against the table, his back to Lemira, his profile shadowed.
Lemira lifted her skirt slightly, revealing a scar on her thigh. “I have one too, right here. Looks a lot like yours, doesn’t it?”
The scar was stark against her fair skin, made even more noticeable by the height of her skirt.
He glanced at it, then quickly looked away. “Kid, don’t just lift your skirt in front of men.”
“But you’re a doctor.”
Orion cleared his throat, reminding himself he was also a man. Hadn’t anyone taught her these things? “That scar could be treated. Why haven’t you?”
Lemira’s expression dimmed. Rowan had said the scar was a reminder of their parents and he’d take care of it when he had the time. She had believed him. But then, he’d looked at it with disgust, saying he hated it and would never treat it, blaming her for their parents’ death. That scar, he’d said, was her stigma, a reminder of her responsibility for their deaths. She should remember that for life.
At the time, devastated and believing herself responsible, she had become even more subservient to her brothers.
The memory made it hard for Lemira to breathe. Instead of speaking, she asked, “What about you? Why haven’t you treated yours?”
“I’m a man; it doesn’t matter. But a young lady like you should get it treated.”
Lemira forced a small smile. “Maybe later.”
Orion, seeing her downcast expression, didn’t press further. He sat beside her, turning on the television. The screen showed a live gaming competition, and Alaric was participating. He had missed Evelina’s party for this competition, but ultimately lost to the young son of the Everhart family of Nyric. Lemira remembered how, in her past life, Alaric had been ridiculed after the loss, spurring him to furiously rebuild their family gaming team. Lucian, Caspian, Evander, Alaric, and herself—despite failing in the preliminaries—had a shot at redemption in the wild card round, eventually facing the Everhart son again in the national finals.