spellbound | book #1 | completed

L I I I

[edited: 04/06/2018]

It was miraculous just how quickly Maksim had recovered from his earlier state of unconsciousness. Remy couldn't help but marvel at him—at his bright eyes, which had not long been hidden away by heavy lids, and his tall stance, which held no evidence that he was weak or in pain—as he hovered in the doorway of the Medical Wing's waiting room, a small smile on his face. Of course, he was still covered in blisters and burns, but they looked much less inflamed and life-threatening now than they had when she had pulled him out of the lake.

She stood up from the plastic chair beneath her, her eyes wide. She was unsure of what to say to him. So much had happened between them, and she had been so afraid that perhaps she had lost him that she was filled with an aching desperation to hug him, but she restrained herself for both of their sakes. The fight they had had, though it seemed so long ago now and so trivial, was still gnawing at the back of her mind.

Instead, she greeted him with a simple, "Hello."

Amusement glittered in his eyes, and something else that she could not quite read. "Hello," he said finally, his hands placed awkwardly at his sides. "You were not there when I woke up."

"I—" It only occurred to her once she opened her mouth that she had no real answer for him. What was there to say? "No, I wasn't. I didn't ..."

Speaking had never felt so hard a task for her before as it did now. It felt as though she had something heavy in her mouth that clung to her tongue and prevented her from expressing herself properly.

Maksim frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets and freeing her from his gaze to look outside the waiting room. The medics must have given him a new set of clothes, for he was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and loose black trousers. It was the most normal he had ever looked, aside from the time he had been dressed in mortal clothes when he had pushed her through the portal, but even so he looked like some kind of divine creature, just as he always did, and just as he always would.

Remy was surprised at the bitterness of her own thoughts and cleared her throat to distract herself from losing herself to them.

"We should get home. You must be cold and tired." He looked her up and down and only then was she aware of the dampness of her clothes and hair and the heaviness of her body. She had been too worried about Maksim to have noticed before.

She nodded once and followed him out of the waiting room and down the Medical Wing's corridor, where at least fifty injured people were sitting, kneeling, lying down, crying. The sight shocked her; she had always thought of warlocks and witches as invincible, and now here they were, weak and covered in their own blood. She was thankful when her vision blurred with tears and she didn't have to look at their horrific wounds and traumatised expressions. Maksim must have sensed her discomfort, for he placed his hand in hers and squeezed it softly, pulling her quickly around the corner and off the ward. His hand was hot in her cold, trembling one.

There was a strange feeling passing between the two of them as they made their way towards the main hall. Perhaps it was the silence that was filled with so many unsaid words, or perhaps it was their heightened emotions that made them feel more connected, but it was a feeling of closeness, a feeling of homeliness that she never thought she could feel anywhere other than the beach in her own world, never mind in a warlock realm where she was the only mortal being—never mind somewhere where she had almost lost her life.

The feeling confused her and settled her all at the same time, but she had no time to think about why, for as she stepped into the main hall, which was filled with people dressed in red and dozens of portals from which people were constantly emerging, her eyes glanced over a familiar face.