Chapter 20: Plain Terms
The next morning arrived with pale grey light and the scent of chamomile.
Lucas sat on the edge of the medical exam table in a private suite tucked behind Serathine’s east library. It didn’t look like a clinic—no harsh lights, no glaring stainless steel. The walls were lined with pale wood paneling, and the instrument tray held only the essentials: gloves, gel, a stethoscope, and a few vials for bloodwork.
Everything was clean. Quiet. Designed to feel like a place of rest, not inspection.
Still, Lucas’s posture was rigid. His shoulders drawn tight, spine locked straight as if bracing for a blow. The cotton robe they’d given him was soft against his skin, but it didn’t stop the cold from settling under it.
The doctor—a beta woman in her late fifties with warm eyes and a soft accent—spoke without urgency.
"Good morning, Lord Lucas," she said gently, as if she already knew that anything louder might make him flinch. "I’m Dr. Elane. If you want to stop at any point, you can. This is just a routine checkup. No surprises."
He gave a short nod.
"May I?" she asked, indicating his arm.
He nodded again, slower this time.
She tied the tourniquet with practiced care, not too tight. Her assistant—also a beta, young, calm—prepped the vials without speaking.
Lucas’s gaze stayed locked on the wall across the room as the needle went in. He didn’t move, but when the alcohol pad brushed his inner elbow afterward, his fingers twitched.
They noticed, but said nothing.