"Without your clothes? «She handed me a bag, and I swung it around happily. "I can't wait to see the dress.” "Me either. If they let me go. Kirova's still deciding if I've been good enough.” "Show her those boring shirts you bought. She'll go into a coma. I'm about ready to.” I laughed and hopped up onto one of the wooden benches, pacing her as I walked along it. I jumped back down when I reached the end. "They aren’t that boring.” "I don't know what to think of this new, responsible Rose.” I hopped up onto another bench. "I'm not that responsible.” "Hey," called Spiridon. He and the rest of the group trailed behind us. "You're still on duty. No fun allowed up there.” "No fun here," I called back, hearing the laughter in his voice. "I swear—shit.” I was up on a third bench, near the end of it. My muscles tensed, ready to jump back down. Only when I tried to, my foot didn't go with me. The wood, at one moment seemingly hard and solid, gave way beneath me, almost as though made of paper. It disintegrated. My foot went through, my ankle getting caught in the hole while the rest of my body tried to go in another direction. The bench held me, swinging my body to the ground while still seizing my foot. My ankle bent in an unnatural direction. I crashed down. I heard a cracking sound that wasn't the wood. The worst pain of my life shot through my body.
And then I blacked out.
EIGHTEEN
I WOKE UP STARING AT the boring white ceiling of the clinic. A filtered light—soothing to Moroi patients—shone down on me. I felt strange, kind of disoriented, but I didn't hurt. "Rose.” The voice was like silk on my skin. Gentle. Rich. Turning my head, I met Dimitri's dark eyes. He sat in a chair beside the bed I lay on, his shoulder-length brown hair hanging forward and framing his face.
"Hey," I said, my voice coming out as a croak. "How do you feel?” "Weird. Kind of groggy.” "Dr. Olendzki gave you something for the pain—you seemed pretty bad when we brought you in.”