Page 4 of Runes To Rain
He comes to my aid, taking the cup from me and rubbing my back. With a stunning smile on his face, he says, “My name is Lent. That’s Fem,” pointing to the one I sat on, “and Reem is the dashing fellow who tried to kill you with his coffee.”
Reem frowns and, grumbling quietly, begins to leave for the other room.
“No, no old son,” Lent says, rising from beside me. “Let me make the coffee, and you stay here to play host to our guest and get Fem off his ass.”
Blushing slightly, I look down at my hands.
Reem says something to Fem about making himself useful. Then he turns to me and asks, “Would you like me to show you to your room so you can freshen up?”
Looking up at him, I nod again, unable to keep the enthusiasm from it.
He grins, awful coffee apparently forgotten, and then I follow him out of the room. He leads me past the painting, which I brush lightly with my fingertips as I pass. I walk out into a wide entry space and then follow him along a narrow hallway. From there, he directs us down another hallway and to a closed door.
“This will be your room," he says, looking at the door instead of me while he thrusts his hands deep into his pockets. “There are towels in there, and I will have one of the house employees bring in a change of clothes.”
As I reach for the knob, he turns on his heel and makes his way back in the direction we came from without looking at me.
I open the door and step into the room. It is dressed in black and white with traces of red as though two crows quarreled in the depths of snowy woods. The bed, which is large and more than dwarfs me, is flanked by two large cupboards, and there is an enormous black rug on the white marble floor.
It would feel cold and clinical except that it is a bit worn around the edges with bare wood showing where paint hasrubbed off. The linens are threadbare, and there are small stains on the cupboards. There is also a connected bathroom with a clawfoot tub.
Going to the bath, I turn both knobs on the faucet and undress. As I remove my clothes, I see just how dirty they are, and register that I have not changed since falling in the street.
No wonder the boys looked at me oddly.
As I climb into the tub, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and freeze. I guess I didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea what I looked like, and up until now, it didn’t seem to matter.
Mismatched eyes stare back at me, one blue, the other yellow. They are set in, what I take to be, a plain face, but it is framed by waves of pale pink hair that is currently tangled and wind-knotted. I reach my hand up to it, running my fingers along the length of it, but it doesn’t magically turn brown or black as I have seen on others.
Still staring, I drop my hands to my sides and examine the rest of my new body. Still unsure how I come by this knowledge, I feel that I am pretty but certainly no beauty.
Even as the importance of being different fades, I settle into the hot bath. The hot water slowly sinks into muscles that, without my realizing it, were tense and sore. I slowly relax, pain draining into the hot water even as the dirt and grime do.
I nearly fall asleep, my tongue playing with the cut inside my cheek, before a knock on the door pulls me back to the present. I jump slightly at the sound and quickly sit straight while calling out to ask what they want.
“Lady, I’ve brought the clothing that was requested for you. May I bring it in?”
I call out for her to enter and watch as she walks into the bedroom. She is dressed in a neat grey outfit and walks with a quick confidence. She sets a folded pile of clothing on a chairbeside the bed. Then, without saying or doing anything else, she turns and leaves, closing the bedroom door again.
As the door closes, I begin to wash myself, quickly scrubbing the last of the dirt from my skin. Freshly washed and slightly pink from the scrubbing, I open the drain and step from the tub onto a fluffy towel. Finding another towel hanging nearby, I wrap myself in it. Then I find a brush and slowly begin to pull it through my hair, pulling apart the knots and wincing as it tears at my scalp.
Finally feeling better, I move back to the bedroom and examine the clothing left by the woman. The pile on the bed contains a short and silky skirt that, when pulled on, falls to only my knees in loose waves. There is also a tailored shirt with short sleeves and a standing collar, as well as long socks that cover each of my legs entirely. There are shoes, but some part of me refuses to put them on while in the house. I tie my hair up loosely with a ribbon and pick up the shoes before leaving the room.
I slowly find my way back to the room with the floral couches, only to find it empty. After wandering for a bit, I find Fem and Reem arguing quietly in a nearby room with a single large table. I turn at a motion at the edge of my vision and see that Lent has joined us.
“Hey ho you two,” he calls to the two arguing. He is carrying a tray of food and drink.
Fem and Reem go quiet, but then slowly begin back up with their argument in hushed tones as Lent carries the tray to a short table near the wall.
“Here, eat,” he says to me while grinning. He begins to serve himself.
I drop the shoes on the floor and walk to the side table.
“Take this,” he says while setting a plate in front of me, “and help yourself. That is the syrup, and this pitcher here is juice. If you don’t like that, there is water in this glass bottle.”
I pick up a fork, spear a couple of pieces of bread, place them on my plate, and dump the syrup on them. Then I carry my plate to the large table. I’m already tearing off pieces of bread and putting them into my mouth as I drop onto a chair.
As I eat, the other two stop their argument, and Reem leaves. Fem takes a plate and, after heaping it with food much as I have done, he drops onto a chair across from me. Lent finishes first, after stuffing his face too quickly for manners. I eat nearly two full plates and sense a quiet shock from Fem, but ignore it.
