Fever Dream

I dreamt of Mum.

Which was funny, since she died when I was four and I hadn't thought much of her—or that night—in years.

"Get them out of here, Drenvar! Don't wait! Drenvar, go!"

The fire, smoke, Shadows of snarling wolves and mad vampires tearing into our pack and flooding into our home.

Caspian screaming for mum, then the long silence, the kind that followed death, the kind that stayed even after decades. I felt it, mum spirit fade, then dad dropping to the floor.

It was in that silence my lids shot open, heart jackhammering and soaked in cold sweat. my caught the cracked ceiling above, the one I had traced until I fell asleep.

I touched my neck. No blood, just the scorching hotness of my body.

Pierre was right, I had gotten a fever.

I let my hand drop Weakly.

The room was now filled. Twelve more boys and I'd slept through all of them coming in.

Their boots. Their shouting, worst of all their stink.

It was past midnight and they were all of asleep, thunderous snores shaking walls. Nearby a body shifted and turned. A light sleeper's nightmare.

i couldn't sleep now if I tried. I needed to get that medication. I rolled out of bed, biting in my groan and mentally thanking Pierre for giving me the bottom bunk.

If the room was too hot, then the halls were freezing,

The infirmary was in the East Wing—Pierre had said it so casually, like it wasn't a maze in the dark, with little light and two doors already jammed shut. I kept one hand on the wall, the other pressed to my ribs.

And the deeper I walked, the more I felt my skin protest. Every part of me was sore. Not bruised—bruised had come and gone.

This was worse.

So when I came face to face with the narrow wooden door, I let out a sigh of relief. One that was cut shut at the thud of a boot behind me.

Boot? I whipped around, no one.

Perhaps it was the fever, I was hearing things because of the fever. Who would wear boots at this hour, it was like two in the morning.

But then another thud.

My brows knit. "Who's there?" I called out.

No answer. Instead more of them, slow, but fast enough to have me pulling up my fists for attack.

If there was an attack, there was no use hiding in the dark. I looked around, fist still up, for rod, rock, anything to stand in as a weapon...

But this place was damn spotless.

For a second I forgot the pain burning in my ribs...

"You'll be torn to pieces before your first hit." General Noah strode out the shadows, hair still sleeked back and center parted just without the berett.

Goddess, not him again.

I stood at attention as he walked towards me.

"I'm surprised You're on your feet."

I kept my arms stiff at my sides, jaw locked. If I spoke, I might throw up. Fever clawed down my spine so much I was trembling in a way I couldn't hide. Not from him.

"What're you doing out of bed?" he asked. "This place runs on time."

"I needed meds, Sir."

His movement was so smooth it didn't register until he was right in front of me, glaring down with intelligent eyes that saw too much.

"Alone, Unarmed and sick. Looking like you'd fall to your knees if I raised my voice. That's four counts of stupidity, recruit."

"I'm sorry Si—"

"I'm just curious," his voice dripped with disdain "this can't be the thinking faculty, you use to survive for so long."

It was almost like, he was intentionally making living hard for me. But why, the few times I held his gaze, he didn't even seem to enjoy people's pain, then why?

With a sigh, he rubbed at his temple, then reached behind him and pulled out a sheathed dagger, holding it out.

"Here."

I took it, brows knitted in confusion.

Was this a test? What would he order next? That I slit my neck with it?

"Something tells me you'll be down here a lot." He murmured as he walked away, "At least before you take my pass."

I watched his back as he left, steps as silent as a mouse, which meant only one thing, the thud from before, he'd purposely done them to scare me.

I unsheathed the knife, my reflection on the blade staring back at me. What did he want with me?

Still I pushed it between my pants and my hips.

Ten minutes later after I downed a bottle of medication labelled, fever, I limped back to the hallway just to find Levi leaning against the wall waiting.

"How about I call you a fucking idiot." Levi muttered, moving closer.

I blinked up at him. "You followed me."

"Your breathing woke me."

"I was quiet."

"Makes me wonder what you call loud." he snapped, "Come on, no one's looking. I'll carry you."

"I'd rather die."

He blinked, surprised, as I tried to walk past.

And then—bam. I was hauled off the floor, thrown over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

"Save that sass for Sett," he chuckled. "Your brother owes me thirty thousand Lupins to keep you alive."

"I'll give you seventy to let me die."

He snorted. "Deal."

****

"So, uh." Levi looked from me to my untouched plate, "You gonna eat that?"

I would,I could, if I wasn't actively struggling not to throw up on our table.

The Mess was filled to the brim, conversations from the numerous rectangular benches a far cry from our silent one.

I could feel Sett's gaze on me as I scrunched my nose at my plate. The last time I looked up, they were all shoving this dump into their mouth as though it were a six course meal

And as much as I wanted to down it all, prove to Sett I wasn't just a 'princess' I just couldn't.

This was just brown slurp and a loaf so hard it left a splinter under my fingernail. Caspian dogs ate better.

"Must've been nice in your castle right, Red?" Levi taunted, pushing aside his empty plate and taking mine, "Imagine a special pass to go back to it, must be nice."

I ignored him, instead biting into the bread, I felt my teeth creak as I turned to Pierre, who was still working on that bulb.

He seemed a little frustrated as he sorted through colourful wires, his food half finished, focus on the sparks he created on that bulb.

Those little sparks equalled the pain still in my bones. Although the fever had faded all thanks to that weird bottle, the pain was now an echo, thanks to Pierre.

"What are you working on?" I finally asked.

Pierre paused; the screwdriver latched on the wood that the light was screwed on. "A light bulb, Runs on environmental energy, heat, motions, and whatever's around. So we can see at night." He sighed, rubbing his neck. "frustrating as hell. Can't figure out where to route the wires. One wrong twist and it's dead."

I shoved more bread into my mouth, now just as invested as him. He took a blue wire was reaching it the core when—

Bang!

Shaking the table and Pierre's steady hand. The bulb blew.

Pierre practically had smoke coming out his ears glaring at Levi and Sett like they were the worst that ever happened to him.

"You fucker! You stabbed me with your spoon!" Levi yelped clutching his wrist.

"I couldn't reach the fork fast enough." Sett growled, "Get your paws off my food."

"Bastard!" Levi lunged for Sett, and in the next second, they were rolling around the Mess floor, cursing and upsetting chairs.

Pierre who had managed to save his tray before the bruhaha, settled back down and continued eating.

Not once did he look back up, not even when Sett and Levi were hurled off by soldiers and the Mess hall quietened again.

"Are they always like that?" I asked carefully.

"Idiotic yeah. Either that or listen to them make everything a bet."

A big smile lit up my face, "Cool."

Pierre gave me a disappointed glance, then shook his heads, "Of course."

I was about to demand what he meant by that, when the largest hand I ever saw latched on his right shoulder.

"Look who we finally meet." The gravelly voice fit the body that was more a brick wall than human. "It's fixer...right here, alone in the middle of nowhere."

"Shit..."

Even without looking up, the blood drained from Pierre's face, jaw clenched in pain, when the hand on his shoulder squeezed.

Pierre turned to me slowly, with a small smile breathed, "Get out of here."

Get out? How could I leave him with people who were obviously not friends. Pierre winced again in pain.

"You thought we'd never find you? Didn't you Prince?'

Fist clenched , I whipped my head up at the bullies and my heart—stopped beating.