Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Questions still swirled through Liora’s mind, but as she turned away from the window, her gaze snagged on something more concrete. Bright red bloomed on the white bandage she’d wrapped around Baylin’s arm.
“You’re bleeding again.”
“It’s nothing.”
Despite his casual dismissal, she grabbed his hand to lead him back to the table, only realizing what she’d done when his big warm fingers wrapped around hers.
The contact was electric—a jolt that traveled up her arm and straight to her core, making her breath catch.
He must have felt it too, because his eyes darkened, his fingers tensing around hers before reluctantly releasing her.
“I’ll clean it and put a fresh bandage on it,” she said quickly, avoiding his eyes.
He followed her back to the table without protest, his presence suddenly looming large in the small room. Even sitting, he dwarfed the furniture, his powerful body making the kitchen feel strangely intimate, like she’d invited a wild animal to tea.
As she cleaned his arm, she tried to focus on the task rather than the heat radiating from his body or the way his muscles flexed beneath her touch. None of the medical texts she’d read had prepared her for the reality of caring for a wound. Or for the way her body reacted to his presence.
“Medical theory is all very straightforward, but the application is...” She trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Different?”
“Alive.” She dipped a fresh cloth into the antiseptic solution and began cleaning the wound again, trying to ignore the way her heart hammered against her ribs. “In the diagrams, everything is static. You can study it, analyze it, and understand exactly how each component functions. But this—”
She gestured vaguely at his arm, at the raw gash that ran from elbow to wrist.
“This keeps changing. The blood flow patterns shift when you move. The skin texture varies depending on the underlying muscle structure. And you’re warm.” She gently wiped the area that was still seeping blood. “I didn’t expect you to be so warm.”
He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. His green eyes caught the light from the windows, making them appear almost luminous.
“Vultor run hotter than humans,” he said. “It’s one of our adaptations. Helps with temperature regulation in extreme environments.”
“Fascinating.” She leaned closer, her fingers absently drifting along his arm. “The texts mention temperature differentials between species, but they never specify the exact degree of variation. How much hotter do you think? Three degrees? Five?”
“I’ve never measured it.”
“We could measure it now.” She looked up eagerly. “Ari has temperature sensors throughout the tower. We could establish a baseline comparison with my readings, and then calculate the precise differential. It would be valuable data.”
“Liora.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “Perhaps we could focus on the wound first?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” She returned her attention to the task at hand, trying to determine why the bleeding wouldn’t stop in that area.
“I’m sorry. I get distracted when I encounter new information.
Ari says it’s a sign of intellectual curiosity, but also that I need to work on maintaining focus during practical tasks. ”
“ARIS seems to have a lot of opinions.”
“Ari has opinions about everything. Sleep schedules, nutritional ratios, exercise routines. Sometimes I think if Ari could control my breathing, it would optimize that too.”
The words came out more bitterly than she’d expected, and she paused, surprised at herself. She’d never consciously thought about ARIS in critical terms before. It was just... there, a constant presence, as natural and unremarkable as the walls of the tower itself.
But now, sitting across from another person—a real person, with warm skin and curious eyes and a voice that didn’t come from hidden speakers—she was starting to notice things.
The way Ari’s presence sometimes felt less like companionship and more like surveillance.
The way its gentle guidance had shaped every aspect of her existence without her ever questioning why.
“Tell me about the animals,” she said, shaking off the uncomfortable thoughts. “The books describe hundreds of species living in this jungle, but I’ve only observed a few dozen from the windows. What have you seen?”
“More than I can count.” He shifted slightly as she began applying antiseptic salve to the wound again. “The jungle is dense with life—birds, insects, mammals. Some I recognized, but many I didn’t. There are creatures here that don’t match anything in the standard databases.”
“Really?” She looked up, forgetting to be embarrassed by her eagerness. “Can you describe them?”
“Let’s see. There was one about the size of my fist, covered in iridescent scales, with six legs and wings like gossamer. It made a sound like crystal chimes when it flew.”
“That sounds like a veloria.” She grinned, delighted. “I’ve been trying to get a clear image of one for years, but they’re too fast. They only appear at dawn, just for a few minutes, and by the time I can get the observation equipment calibrated, they’re gone.”
“You have observation equipment?”
“Of course. How else would I study the jungle?” She gestured vaguely towards the upper floors. “I have telescopes, recording devices, atmospheric sensors, even access to satellite images. I’ve been cataloging the wildlife for as long as I can remember.”
“From inside the tower.”
Something in his tone made her pause. She looked up at him and saw the careful neutrality of his expression, the way his jaw had tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “From inside the tower. Where else would I observe from?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched her with those intense emerald eyes, and she had the uncomfortable sensation that he was seeing something she couldn’t.
“The settlements,” she said, changing the subject abruptly. “Tell me about those. How far away is the nearest one?”
“It took me ten days to make my way through the jungle, and then perhaps another two days of riding.”
“Almost two weeks.” She tried to imagine it—ten days of walking through the jungle she’d only ever seen from above, and then a place she’d never even seen. Twelve days of real ground beneath her feet, real air in her lungs, real creatures crossing her path. “What’s it like? The settlement, I mean.”
“Small, perhaps two hundred people. It’s a farming community with a small town at the center. Nothing fancy.”
“Two hundred people.” The number felt impossible.
Two hundred individuals, each with their own thoughts and habits and histories.
Two hundred conversations she’d never had, three hundred stories she’d never heard.
“Do they all know each other? How do they organize their days? Is there a schedule, or do they just... do what they want?”
“A bit of both. There’s work that needs doing—planting, maintenance, harvesting. But outside of that, people manage their own time.”
“Their own time.” She rolled the phrase around in her mouth, tasting its foreignness. “Ari manages my time. It tells me when to wake, when to eat, when to exercise, when to sleep. I’ve never... managed my own.”
A flicker of something dark crossed his features before he smoothed it away.
“That seems like a lot of control,” he said carefully.
“It’s efficient.” She returned her attention to the wound. “Ari calculated my optimal routine when I was young. It’s designed for maximum productivity and minimum wasted time. It’s the most logical approach.”
“Logic isn’t everything.”
“What else is there?”
The question came out before she could think better of it. She looked up, genuinely curious, and found him watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“Choice,” he said. “Spontaneity. The freedom to make mistakes and learn from them. To wake up one morning and decide to do something different, just because you want to.”
“That sounds...” She searched for the right word. “Chaotic.”
“It can be. It can also be wonderful.”
Wonderful. Another word that felt foreign on her tongue, like a flavor she’d never tasted. She tried to imagine waking up without Ari’s gentle prompts, without a schedule laid out for the day ahead. The thought was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.
“Tell me about the sea,” she said, retreating to safer ground. “Is it really as vast as it looks?”
“Vaster. It goes on for thousands of kilometers in some directions. You can stand at the shore and look out at nothing but water, all the way to the curve of the planet.”
“What color is the water? Up close, I mean. It looks green from up here, but the texts say it changes depending on the depth and the sediment and the angle of light.”
“All of those things.” A faint smile curved his lips. “I’ve seen it turquoise in the shallows, deep green near the reefs, almost black in the open water. At sunset it turns gold and red and purple, like someone spilled fire across the surface.”
“Fire across the surface.” She closed her eyes, trying to picture it. “I’d like to see that. Just once. To stand at the edge of all that water and watch the sun go down.”
“Maybe you will.”
The words were soft, almost gentle. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her with something in his eyes that made her breath catch.
“Ari says the outside is dangerous,” she said. “That my immune system isn’t adapted to the local pathogens, and that there are predators who would see me as easy prey.”
“Pathogens?” His gaze flicked briefly to the open windows before he shrugged. “The jungle isn’t safe for someone without experience. But ‘dangerous’ and ‘impossible’ aren’t the same thing.”
“Aren’t they?”
“No.” He held her gaze steadily. “I survived out there. So could you, with proper preparation.”