Iris~~
I'm burning.
"Miss?"
I'm not sure if it's my side or my eyes that feel like they're encompassed in flames.
"Miss?" someone repeats again followed by a flash of blue light.
I squeeze my eyes together to keep them shut until I see spots. Both. It's definitely my eyes and side.
Something beeps out a steady rhythm.
"Can you open your eyes for me?" It's a man's voice.
I pry my eyes open. The lights only get brighter, but a dark spot blocks some of it out. I blink, and the spot comes into focus. A face.
I don't see a halo. I don't know if that's good or not.
He's holding a small light that he has me follow with my eyes. I must do okay because he moves on to other tests.
"Where am I?" My throat aches as if I've been screaming.
He says a long name, but the only word I catch is the last. Hospital.
I've never been to either before, but I don't see why there'd be hospitals in heaven or hell.
The doctor, because that's what he must be, turns to the other side of the room—a hospital room—where there's an open door leading out into a hallway.
A white blanket covers me, and an IV sticks out of my right arm. Nothing goes into my left where my Mark is. It's still wrapped in a white bandage that's covered in blood.
"Preeminence," the doctor says. The beeping breaks its rhythm, speeding up.
Jonas steps inside. He doesn't smile, but he meets my eyes, and that's enough, because in them I see his relief, his pain. His black hair is a bit messy, and his jeans are free of blood. He's wearing a different shirt than the one he ripped for me, but this one is wrinkled.
Jonas walks farther into the room, and the doctor bows to him on his way out.
"How long has it been?" My side, just under my ribs, aches.
"A few hours." He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a nude bandage that matches my lighter skin tone. He nods to the one wrapped around my arm. "We should probably change that."
"Where's Erik and everyone?"
He bites his lip and grabs the end of my bandage. "The cafeteria, I think."
"Does he . . . Is he . . .?" Sorry, is the word I can't seem to say. Could it have really been only hours ago when it all took place? When Erik kissed me, when we fought, when he told me he wished he'd never saved me?
Jonas hesitates, the bandage halfway off. His fingers barely touch my skin. "I have to be . . ." He sighs. "It was mine. My gun that went off."
"Jonas, I saw—"
"I got scared. Erik couldn't die, but I could, and that was all I really thought before I . . . I thought you were going to die. There was so much blood."
"Is this when you tell me that you donated your blood, heroically saving my life, after shooting me?"
He finishes unwrapping the bandage and sets it on a bedside table. "I would have, but we're not the same type."
The ceiling is a too bright white. It makes my head hurt to stare at it. "Can I speak to Erik?" I don't particularly wish to see his face right now, but I need to.
After Jonas sends him a text, he begins wrapping the new bandage around my Expiration Date. As he wraps, his shirt sleeves fall back, revealing the white tip of his own bandage.
"I forgive you, Jonas, for, you know"—I let out a breath—"shooting me."
He meets my eyes for a brief moment then looks away. "Thank you." His voice is hoarse.
When Erik arrives, he pauses in the doorway to tap out a tune on the door. "Look at the two lovebirds."
I don't know why, but I expected red eyes and dark circles. But I suppose that's conceited.
He rakes a hand through his blond hair and plops into a bluish-green seat near my bed. "Glad to see you've forgiven him already." He moves his amber eyes from me to Jonas. "You could learn a thing or two from her. Brydan's been talking my ear off about how he's so scared and so sorry and that he just wishes things could go back to the way things were.
"Erik." Jonas's voice is low.
Erik makes a flourish with his hand and bows from the chair. "Preeminence."
My hands curl into the sheets.
He tilts his head to the side, looking at me again. "If you can forgive him after he almost killed you, surely he can forgive his best friend who's waiting in the wings to offer moral support."
Jonas takes a step to the side toward my bed. "He betrayed me."
"Yes, well, I'd say shooting someone is quite an act of betrayal."
Jonas places his hand over my bandage, and it's like my arm has been set against a skillet. I snatch my hand away, hissing, and then groan at the pain that flares up in my side.
Erik hops out of his chair, concern now plastered on his face.
Jonas closes his hand into a fist, brows furrowing. "Iris?"
"You"—I rub my hand over the bandage, but the pain is already gone—"burnt me."
Staring down at his hand, he takes a step back.
"What do you mean he burnt you?"
"Exactly that."
Jonas has now backed himself near the door. "Excuse me," he says before turning and rushing out of the room.
Erik shoots a long look at the door before snorting. "Someone's weird." He pulls the chair closer to the bed and sinks down into it. "How are you?"
I try raising an eyebrow but know it fails. "Did growing up in the Society teach you any manners?"
"I'm supposed to be nice to the man who shot you?"
"He never would have fired a gun if you hadn't pointed one at him."
"You'll always take his side, won't you?"
Shaking my head, I look away from him, and my cheek sinks into the pillow. I don't have the energy for this.
"We'll be going back to the Estate."
The heart monitor loses its rhythm again. The Society. That's exactly where my uncle would love me to be.
"You know, I was imagining that we could have stayed with your uncle." My uncle who's convinced the Society is infested with aliens.
"You don't want anything to do with the rebellions," I say. "Trust me. I don't love the Society, but at least they're loyal. The rebels know nothing about that or about organization."
When Erik stands, it's with narrowed eyes. "My family's not loyal to each other though. Only to the Society." He heads for the door and places his hand on the handle. "I don't know if my dear cousin told you the news, but I'm still Tresais."