One Week Later…
Roark
I was sitting on the couch in my apartment alone, and Lara was still missing. I dropped my head into my hands. What had I done? Lara should be here with me, but I had chased her away.
Now that my face had healed—all but the scarring—I could think more clearly. No one treated me differently. In fact, I was even more revered for protecting Lord La’qa. The respect everyone showed had risen tenfold, if that was even possible.
I had continued to reach out for Lara several times over the last seven days, and met a wall of nothingness. If only I could get through to her, make her listen, help her to understand why I did what I did.
In the back of my mind, I knew this was all my fault; I blocked her out first. It still didn’t make me feel any better though.
The door chimed; I didn’t want company, but the bell was insistent, so I huffed out a breath and headed over. Hitting the button, the door dematerialized and Kiah stood there, looking around nervously. She was a beautiful female with a kind heart, but she was not Lara.
“Can I help you?” I asked coolly.
“Roark,” she smiled. “May I enter?”
“I do not feel like company.”
And I will not bring any other female into my private quarters, I added to myself silently. Only Lara.
Her face fell.
“Of course, I understand,” she replied, offering a faint smile. “Well, I just wanted to check on you, see if you are feeling better.”
“I am, thank you.”
“Good…good. Well, then, I will talk to you another time.”
As she walked away, the loneliness set in and I couldn’t stay there any longer. The fact that I had sent Lara away still pissed me off, and I did not want to stay here another minute without her.
Grabbing some clothes, I took the steps up to my air vehicle and programmed the coordinates in. As I flew away from the city, I couldn’t help but look down.
Where are you?
Somehow, Lara had eluded every guard for the past seven days, and I could not understand how she was doing it. She was an alien on our planet, one of only two, to be exact. Her pale skin and yellow hair should stand out; how could she go unnoticed? It was beyond comprehension. The only conclusion I could come to was that she didn’t want to be found.
Back at the mansion, Saroff met me outside the guard shack.
“Any news?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Surely I would know, I would feel if she was near.
“I am sorry, Captain.”
“Just keep looking.”
I strode inside the mansion, irritated. Cami wasn’t speaking to me, and Lord La’qa’s mood had turned mostly volatile. Not directed at me so much, just in general because of Cami’s anger. I braced myself for the reception I would shortly receive.
I nodded to Voth, who stood guard outside their rooms, and knocked on the heavy wooden door.
The door dematerialized and I found myself facing a somber Cami.
Leaning with one arm against the doorframe, her intense stare dared me to say otherwise when she said, “Tell me you have good news.”
“None yet.”
She huffed, then turned and stomped away. I followed her to the main sitting area, where Zorvak stood with his favorite black cup.
“Want some?” he asked, tilting the cup in my direction.
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation as he poured another cup and handed it over. I accepted it gladly.
“Have a seat,” Zorvak said, and sat on the couch. I took the chair opposite him, and he turned a level gaze on me. “No word?”
“No. I don’t understand how she can just…disappear.”
“And she’s still blocking you?”
“Yes.”
“It is a mystery,” he commented, taking a sip.
“Is Cami still upset?”
He raised one eyebrow, then blew out a long breath. “Even if she doesn’t admit it, she’s more upset at herself. She feels guilty for leaving Lara alone on the flyer when we first arrived, even though she had a terrible headache.”
“It is not her fault, it is mine!”
Zorvak scoffed. “I think there is enough blame to go around.”
I sighed, still unconvinced. “Fair enough.”
“There’s nothing else you can do except wait. If Lara wants to show herself, she will. But now that you are feeling better, you need to get back to the trainees. They have fallen behind.”
I took another drink, knowing he was right; still, I had always been a man of action, a man who solved problems. Knowing there was nothing I could do to resolve the terrible situation which I had created was frustrating and genuinely painful. But I did not say anything aloud; it would serve no purpose, and Zorvak knew me well enough to understand anyway.
“Agreed,” I replied instead, exhaling slowly, and hating myself in that moment.