The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 4

Will trails me to my room after Meg leaves. I lead him up to the third floor, pushing open my bedroom door.

Meg tried to persuade me to remain in my old quarters on the fourth floor but I refused, feeling uncomfortable accepting a room permanently in the Palace. We compromised on a more modest bedroom formerly used by one of the live-in servants. The small space doesn't hold anything more than a bed, chair and desk but affords me access to one of the Palace's wrap-around glass balconies.

I walk over to pull shut the balcony door I had left open, pausing for a moment to peer out over the City. The desert rises and falls against the horizon, dimples of dunes dotting the vast landscape as far as my eye can see. Tonight, the familiar view strikes me as more curious than it normally would. In many ways my world ended at the City's gates. Until tonight I hadn't considered what lies outside of them too carefully.

When I draw back inside I see that Will has uncovered my small stash of medical supplies and has left his jacket discarded on a chair. I can hear water running out in the hallway and I follow the sound to the shared washroom, joining him at the basin and splashing my face.

He rubs his scruffy head with a towel, handing it over to me when I finish washing. He helps me remove my torn and soiled tunic, tossing it over the rim of the basin. We don't say anything as I rinse the blood from my arm wound, both of us examining the shallow cut with a measured curiosity.

I glance up at him as he turns my arm over gently in his large hands. His jaw is clenched and shadows have begun to form under his grey eyes. There is a wariness there that I haven't seen before and I feel a tug at my heart. My hand reaches up to brush his chin as though I could smooth away the tension he is holding within.

His shoulders droop slightly and he wordlessly slips his hands around my waist and draws me to him. We hold each other tightly, our hearts thudding against one another. My eyes drift closed as I breathe in his scent, fighting the emotion clawing its way up my throat.

Wordlessly I follow him back to my room, sinking down onto the bed while he draws the chair up so that he is sitting in front of me, pushing up his sleeves and reaching for the bandages.

"You're angry with me." I state as I study the twin scars marring his forearms.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, indicating that I should hold my arm out while he cuts a length of linen from the roll.

"Yes, I am." He replies calmly.

I nod, using my free hand to pull my hair free of it's braid, shaking out the mass with my fingers. "I'm angry with you as well."

"I know you are." He finishes wrapping my arm and secures the bandage tightly. "Does that hurt?"

"No." I lie.

"Good." His hands bury themselves in the hair caught behind my neck and support me as I fall backwards onto the bed. I tilt my lips up to meet his, allowing myself to be encompassed entirely by him.

My throat constricts as we kiss and I hold him tighter against me, arching my back up towards him. My hands cover the taut skin on his back and for a moment I picture the raised welts that mark the skin there.

My own scars tickle beneath his fingers as he lifts me up so that I am straddling him. I nuzzle into the crook of his neck and savour the feeling of him with me, alive and whole. Our walls outside this room may fall but the walls within hold forever strong.

* * * * *

I am jostled back to wakefulness when Will stirs beside me. I groan and grasp his waist as he tries to sit up. Cracking an eye open I wince at the brightness of the sun filtering in through the glass wall.