Page 38 of Runes To Rain
Pausing, still in the chaos for a moment, I look out through the crowd again. I try to find the face I recognized as Bonum’s, but I’ve lost them.
The ache shoots through my chest again, and in that momentary distraction as I’m shoved, I miss my footing and land on the ground. I whimper as someone steps on my hand. Then a heel collides with the wound in my abdomen, and I cry out. I attempt to push myself up, but there are too many peoplemoving over and around me, and I can’t manage to regain my feet.
Suddenly, there’s a break in the crowd, people swearing as someone pushes between them. In the chaos, I feel an arm wrap around me and drag me up, carrying me roughly to the edge of the room, where I’m dropped to my feet with no ceremony.
I turn to thank my savior, only to see Dio’s angry face glaring at me.
We’re pressed together between the wall and the ocean of people. He turns us, putting my back against the wall. His arms create a cage as he leans against the wall, closing the space between us.
“Why the fuck can you not follow simple directions, you godsdamned idiot girl,” he snarls at me.
My eyes fill with tears, prompted by his anger but also the pain of my old and new injuries. I’m unable to speak, mute with the pain and emotions churning through me in this moment.
“I asked you a fucking question,” he snarls at me, and the feeling of glass shards against my skin intensifies.
“I thought I saw someone I knew,” I manage to mumble back at him.
“Great, now you’re seeing thingsandnot following directions,” he shouts as he throws his hands in the air. He looks toward the ceiling as though he’s praying for patience.
I’m frozen where I stand against the wall, trapped here by a man who again seems angrier than the situation calls for. I can tell he’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t have any more words. A knot of emotions begins to form in my chest.
After another moment, when it’s clear I’m not going to respond, he runs his hand through his hair. Then he grabs me roughly by the arm and drags me forward. The crowd doesn’t seem to recognize him in the tumult. People growl and shove as he pushes past them along the edge of the room. His fingers bruise my arm, and he seems to have no mind for my comfort ashe drags me forward. Somehow, he navigates through the press of the crowd as though it is easy, following the wall until we reach the space behind the table. I’m thankful to be back in this sanctuary even as I’m irate at the circumstances I find myself in.
He pushes me roughly to the ground along the wall on top of my books. I wince as the wound in my abdomen pulls and pain lashes through me. I gasp, but he doesn’t seem to hear, or perhaps he ignores it.
He bends down to put his face directly in front of mine. “This time, stay put or I’ll lock you in the carriage,” he snarls. Then he turns on his heel and strides back to the table. He pulls his suit jacket straight and runs a hand through his now rumpled hair, organizing himself for his fans again.
Gods he’s vain,I think shakily to myself.
Lent catches my eye as I look toward the table, his expression tight. “Are you ok?” he mouths.
Without knowing what else to do, I nod.
He turns to Reem and says something, then they return to signing records as though nothing happened.
I want to check my injury, but I don’t want to remove my shirt in front of this crowd of people. I settle for leaning against the wall and breathing shallowly through the pain until it starts to ease again. Then I check on my books. The pages of a couple of the books are wrinkled, and one is torn nearly off. There’s a shoe print on one page that’s clearly the size of Dio’s foot rather than mine. I tend to them carefully. Their injuries are easier for me to focus on than mine at this moment.
Once they’re as mended as I can make them without tape, I close the books and put them back neatly in the bag. Then, clutching them to my chest, I huddle against the wall with my chin on the bag on top of my drawn-up knees and my eyes closed.
I am so lost in my thoughts that a while later, I’m jarred by a touch on my shoulder. I jolt upright, still sitting against the wall,afraid of another confrontation with Dio, but it’s Lent who’s leaning over me, and I feel my eyes fill with tears.
“Easy Chaosta,” he says quietly.
I feel tears prick at my eyes at the contrast of his kindness and the way Dio just treated me.
“Were you hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head, closing my eyes to try to fight back the tears.
“You sure?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“I think someone accidentally kicked the wound on my side, and I guess someone sort of stepped on my hand,” I mumble.
“Well, that sounds kind of like you were hurt,” he says. I look at his face, expecting condemnation, but his eyes are twinkling at me, and unexpectedly, I feel a smile tug at my lips. “We’ll have Fem check you when we get home,” he says. Then he steps back, offering me a hand.
I take it, and he pulls me gently to my feet.
“Let me take those,” he says as he gestures to the book bag. I gladly hand them over, relieved not to need to carry the additional, though light, weight.
