Roenan was finally alone in the hospital room with terror and dread gnawing at him. He couldn’t make sense of what he'd just seen—what Saive had done. Every single thing that happened since the night his mother had attempted to end his life felt light a nightmare. 

They were going to kill Saive. There was no question in Roenan’s mind. Attacking a Vernajjian medic—how reckless could someone be and think they’d walk away unscathed from that? He was truly out of his mind.

The room had descended into brief chaos not long after the door had closed behind Saive. A few medics rushed in, one kneeling beside the unconscious man and checking his pulse. He spoke to the others without looking up—Roenan couldn’t make out the words, but the grim tone was enough. Reinforcements arrived, examined the medic, and carried him out. 

Roenan’s stomach sank. He would probably never see Saive again.

As one of the medics turned and approached him, Roenan braced to be drugged again—but the man only checked his vitals, then left. The silence that followed was suffocating.

What exactly was happening to him here? Why were these Vernajjians keeping him alive? What had happened when Saive walked out of that door? He definitely had heard some type of exchange...

He started to panic, sitting up. He felt a severe sense of fight-or-flight creeping in on him — when the door handle began to turn. He froze, threw himself back against the mattress, and shut his eyes.

The door creaked open with excruciating slowness. He heard movement and the sound of a chair being scooted slightly. Silence settled once more. Then—a page turned.

Roenan cracked one eye open.

Drakke sat in the corner, his brows furrowed over a book. He wore a dark navy uniform, crisp with a white collar beneath the jacket. Roenan let himself exhale.

"Why do you read in here?" he asked.

Drakke startled, then let out a soft laugh and closed the book with a quiet clap of his palms.

"You must believe—it is quieter here than in the library," he said, standing and moving with a feline grace toward Roenan. There was something oddly high-class about him. Yet, he was a Vernajjian humoring a Jaedan with conversation. Roenan found that aspect of him hard to read. It was unsettling.

Drakke stopped beside the bed and looked down at him. Now that he was paying attention, he could tell that Drakke was probably older than him by a couple of years, and that he would probably be a few inches taller than him.

"Today you look much lively," Drakke noted, taking a seat on the edge of the adjacent bed. "The hospital is not where you should stay much longer." He nodded once, then gestured toward the mess Saive had left behind. "I told you—he’s not right."

Roenan looked around. "Yeah. He’s... something," he muttered, then glanced back at Drakke.

Drakke chuckled softly. Dimples creased his pale cheeks. Roenan’s eyes dropped to the book—and he froze. The title was in Jaedan.

"You’re studying my language," he said, surprised. "Why?"

Drakke flipped the pages with his thumb, the paper fluttering like wind. "It’s part of my university course," he opened his mouth like he was going to say something but abruptly closed it again. He looked at Roenan for a few long moments and seemed to decide that it was okay to continue, "I am in current training in the area of a military linguist."

Roenan’s heart sank. So he was one of them after all.

"I see. So you’re basically...” he trailed off, glancing toward the door. “Like those men from before."

Drakke ran a hand through his long, wavy hair and sighed. "It’s just how things are. You understand, surely."

"Actually..." Roenan’s voice sharpened. "It's interesting you think that." 

Drakke looked at him, waiting.

"Because I'm actually having a lot of trouble understanding anything at the moment." Roenan’s eyes drifted to the wall and dazed. "That night... my mom killed my dad and tried to..." Roenan gulped and looked back at Drakke. "And took her own life. Somehow, Vernajjians were already there. They saved me—or took me, whatever this is. I think I'm coming to understand that I'm a uselessly injured prisoner of war."

Silence pressed down. Drakke’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the edge of Roenan’s bed.

"I’m sorry about your family," he finally said.

Roenan snapped his eyes to him. "I don’t need an apology from someone like you."

Drakke nodded. "I guess it would be, that you would not." He leaned forward. "But, can I tell you something that is true from my heart?"

Roenan didn’t speak. Drakke tapped his chest and leaned forward to quietly whisper, "I do not support this war. I do not trust our government. They manipulate the monarchy."

Roenan narrowed his eyes. "Then why the hell are you in a military university?"

"In this country, it’s a man’s duty. There’s no choice." He lifted his hands, then slapped them onto his knees with a helpless shrug. "Unless one would like to go to prison or be killed. Or go to prison and be killed."

Roenan stared at Drakke, searching his eyes for dishonesty. His parents had trained him to never associate with, let alone trust, a Vernajjian. They told him from the moment he was young to never speak, if he heard the Vernajjian language, and to never go with a Vernajjian that tried to take him. But saw no deciet written on the face of the man in front of him.

"How old are you?" Roenan asked.

"Twenty-seven." Drakke answered.

"When did they send you to military school?" He pressed on.

"I have been in military school since I was young child." Drakke glanced over his shoulder to look toward the door, "It's how all boys' schools have been since beginning of decades."

"Are you going to get in trouble again if you're caught talking to me?" Roenan asked, peeking around him to look toward the door as well.

Drakke’s expression shifted, unreadable. "I don’t care." He paused, then turned to meet Roenan's eyes.

Roenan surveyed him during a long pause of intense silence. Drakke was... striking. He had never seen someone with hair and eyes like his. Then again, he had never associated with Vernajjians before so his features were new to him. He found himself begin to flush as Drakke continued to look straight into his eyes.

"I’m twenty-two," he blurted, clearing his throat and glancing away.

Drakke let out an airy laugh. "When are you twenty-three?"

"Six months. That is, assuming I’ve only been here a couple of days."

"It has been seven."

Roenan blinked. So he'd been unconscious for five days prior to waking in the hospital. His parents had been dead for a week. He was seven days alone in this world. A lump began forming in his throat.

Drakke cleared his. "In two weeks, I have exam. In Jaedan..." He ran his hand across his mouth in a self-conscious way and looked back into Roenan's eyes, "Might you help me study?"

Roenan chewed his lip while silently searching for an answer. He should say no. He wanted to say no.

"I can’t do that," he said at last. "I don't want to help Vernajjians with their cause. Helping you study would essentially be helping the other side strengthen their troops, and I'm not about to do that." Roenan brought up his hands and rubbed his face in exhaustion. "Language is powerful."

Drakke remained frozen for a few moments before his shoulders finally relaxed. "I know it is. Which is why... I have an offer."

Roenan lowered his hands from his face. "An offer?"

"You teach me Jaedan. I teach you Vernajjian. Give and take." When Roenan slowly blinked at him and didn't respond, he quickly added, "I am going to be honest now with you. They are going to force you into university." He waved his hand in the direction of the door. "To take the extra help, will make wise choice for you. Vernajjian is mandatory at university."

Roenan stared, stunned. "They’re sending me to your university? Why? To make me one of you?"

Drakke swallowed hard. He whispered something under his breath in Vernajjian and his face pinched for a moment, before glancing quickly at the door again. It looked like he was fighting an internal battle.

He got up to take a stand over Roenan. He bent down as if examining Roenan's injuries, and began speaking in his hardly audible whisper again, "If there are cameras, I don’t know." He shot a quick side glance at Roenan, before looking back to what he was doing when he reached down and touched the fabric above Roenan's injury. He pressed lightly. "Here in camp, they will break you. Body. Mind." He began to lightly drag his hand down to grab the edge of Roenan's hospital shirt, pausing momentarily, just before he began to slowly pull it up.

Roenan's breath caught in his throat and his body went tense.

Drakke's eyes slowly followed his own movements, when he suddenly sucked in a gasp, wincing at what he saw. He gently pulled the shirt back down. "You are Jaeden when you walk in and you are Vernajjian when you walk out." He straightened up and pointed at Roenan's stomach, "You need fresh, uhh... " he motioned to his own abdomen, searching for the word.

Roenan lifted his shirt. The bandage was clearly soaked through.

"I will get medic. Maybe, do not try to kill this one?" Drakke said with a small smile.

"You know that wasn’t me."

Drakke turned, but Roenan called out, "Hey, Drakke." Drakke paused and looked over his shoulder. "If there are..." Roenan began, glancing into the corners of the room, indicating cameras. "Won't you get in trouble for talking to me?" Roenan asked.

Drakke smirked. "If there are...” he echoed what Roenan had said, "It is likely they will not have audio in here. To hear the sick and injured all day is what no one wants." He looked toward the door again with his back facing Roenan. "If they ask questions to me, I tell them I start mind-breaking procedure on you to sway you to our ways. If they hear what I just said, I will be punished and we will know."