Page 20 of Elas

“What’s keeping me from reaching perfection?”

He smiles as he takes a giant bite of his brownie. “Rumor has it you waddle like a penguin.”

August

“I’mnotlettingthat…thing…touch me.”

Great.

Another fun one.

My strained smile feels like it could split my face, and I take another deep breath to stop myself from exploding. “It’s a few tiny stitches,” I say, that plastic grin plastered on my mouth. “You’ll be out of here in five minutes, good as new, if you’ll just let me help you.”

“And let you come over here and do somethingweirdto me? No, thanks.”

Kopros, the Curtiphan I’m working underneath today, snorts from the corner. All three of his golden-brown eyes are fixed on the patient, a young soldier with muted red skin who is currently baring his long, curved fangs at me while his tail twitches behind him. “Come on, now,” Kopros says, an obvious sarcasm lacing his words. “Do you really think ahumancould actually hurtyou?”

The patient frowns, weakly gesturing at the cut on his arm. It’s crusted with a strange, greasy black blood, but it isn’t deep. Three stitches—four, max—and he could be out of here.

Instead, he’s chosen to fight me.

For the past half hour.

“What if he puts, like… a tracker or something in my arm?”

“Oh, for the love of the gods,” I mutter, dragging my hand over my face as my composure slips. “Why?Whywould I be tracking you?”

His brows draw closer together, eyelids narrowing until I’m not sure he can even see through them. “I won’t pretend to know how your kind thinks.”

“Fine,” I snap, yanking my gloves off and storming to the trash can. Flustered and shaking in my anger, I fumble with the lid three times before managing to shove them inside. “Either let it scar and risk infection, or find someone else to do it. I tried.”

He dismisses me with an arrogant sneer as I walk towards the door. “We aren’t weak like your species. Infection, can you imagine?” He tosses another haughty glance towards Kopros, like he’s going to get support for his tantrum. The Curtiphan only watches with mild amusement, all three eyes crinkled in a smirk. “The only reason I even came here is because my commanding officer ordered me. I don’t need your help to heal.”

“Well, that’s great,” I snap, “because you aren’t getting it.”

I push out the door and almost crash straight into Xeni. “Whoa, easy killer,” he says with a chuckle, andwhen I jerk back in surprise, he grabs me by my biceps to steady me. He’s on the thin side, especially for their kind, where so many of them are built with bulging muscles and wide frames. But as he holds me upright, there’s no denying the strength in his grip.

“Thanks,” I mutter, taking a half step back.

“Hey… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“August…” His voice is surprisingly gentle, and I glance up to meet his solid white eyes. They were unsettling the first few days we worked together, but over time, the lack of pupils has become normal. Somehow, instinct tells you where he’s looking, even without them. They’re no longer strange, just… different. A part of him, like those ivory, porous horns that twist from his skull.

His face softens as he gives me a sympathetic smile. “You’re terrible at hiding your emotions, you know. Tell me what’s wrong.”

My eyes dart around his angular features, tracking his sharp cheekbones and defined jaw. Elas believes he’s some sort of malicious puppet master who’s trying to control me, but when I look at him, I only see my friend.

“Everyone is so awful to me, and I’m not used to that,” I admit. “Before I came here, I could count the number of genuinely rude people I’d met on two hands, and those people hated everyone so I could ignore them. But here? These people hate me. They’retryingto hurt me without even knowing me.”

He frowns as he places a gentle hand on my forearm. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No, too busy fighting with stubborn patients,” I murmur, and he bites back a smile.

“Pouting doesn’t suit your handsome face, August. Come on, let’s get a bite to eat and you’ll feel better.”

He’s right. I know he is, so I sigh and let him lead me to the break room. Xeni gestures towards a two-seater table, and I drop into a chair with a huff as he grabs a couple pre-made plates from the fridge. He sits one in front of me, loaded with fat purple grapes, a chunk of hard, golden yellow cheese, and a slice of crusty bread he’s slathered with butter.

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