Medsi

[Jaxen Marveet]

Cyrena Marveet

Her heels clicked against the glossy white floors in stubborn rhythm. One that should have projected elegance, not the determined limp of a woman whose ankle was screaming with every step. Cyrena gritted her teeth and bore the pain, not because she had anything to prove to Carter though his gentle hovering was both infuriating and oddly endearing, but because the thought of being wheeled into a public lobby like a fragile old matron was absolutely out of the question.

The hospital was not the sterile stench of a government-run facility, but the polished, almond-scented cleanness that came from an institution that expected its patients to arrive in town cars, not ambulances. The ceiling lights cast a soft white glow that reflected back off polished chrome and smoked glass, and even the uniformed staff wore sleek black instead of white like some hypermodern hotel masquerading as a clinic.

Her dress, slate silk, slit to the navel and backless, was slightly rumpled now, a casualty of the car ride and her stubborn insistence on walking. Beside her, Carter stood like a monolith in a tuxedo tailored so perfectly she might’ve thought it stitched to his skin. He had presence, she’d give him that. The kind that drew second glances from the nurse behind the desk, who couldn’t decide whether to address him as “sir” or just pass out entirely from swooning.

“Marveet,” Cyrena said evenly, knowing she was expected.

A blink. Then, almost like clockwork, the nurse’s posture shifted. There was a too-quick smile, an internal recalibration of tone. A whisper to someone just out of view.

“Right this way, Miss Marveet. We’ll have someone with you shortly.”

Cyrena didn’t smile. Just nodded and accepted the transition of control.

They were ushered into a quieter waiting area just past the main atrium washed aglow in soft lighting, modern art on the walls, and acoustic music humming gently through unseen speakers. A curtain of privacy without being overt. She allowed herself a seat on the edge of one of the sculpted couches, angling her body carefully so her ankle wouldn’t throb with every pulse. Carter lowered beside her without needing to be asked.

She didn’t notice him at first.

The man in the corner.

It was a slight flicker in her periphery. A shift in stillness. When she looked, his posture said everything: military or close enough, but washed in exhaustion. Coat, the chains, the symbols. One hand braced against his chest like it had betrayed him earlier tonight. He didn’t look up, not at first.

She might have let it go entirely. Her curiosity was long ago exhausted. But something familiar itched in the back of her mind. Not his face, but the presence. She had not been afforded one of the prized tickets to the Ascendancy’s ball where his little toy soldiers were paraded on display, but she recognized one when she saw him.

Carter noticed it too.

“That’s one of the Dominions. If you didn’t recognize the coat.” She said.

Their eyes met for just a second. His were a bright blue eyes beneath a furrowed brow, watchful. He assessed her. The same way she was assessing him. A flicker of recognition crossed his expression, but it wasn’t because he knew her name.

A pair of nurses appeared suddenly, one with a rolling chair. “Miss Marveet, everything is ready for you.”

She looked at the chair like it was a throne of snakes and climbed to her feet in defiance. When she stumbled, Carter caught her, and all but forced her to take the chair. She grumbled about it, but when it was apparent that her leg would not allow any more weight on it, she assented, and they rolled her away.