Ioan decided then and there that he officially hated to see Romilda cry. He just held her, stroking her hair and back. He closed his eyes, his face contorted by relief, frustration, love. There was nothing he could do to change what happened, but he could keep a closer eye on her in the future. And pay more attention in class.
"I love you too. Gods, girl. I could've lost you and I wouldn't have known what happened," he said, his voice cracking. He bent to kiss her forehand and smoothed her hair away from her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. "Of course we can. I'm sorry if I hurt you just now."
He took her hand and tugged her to the bed. There was no way he was letting go of her at all tonight and possibly tomorrow as well, if he had the choice. Some part of his mind was plotting revenge, but he couldn't let Romilda know that. But there was no way Bole was going unpunished for what he'd done. The irrational part of him promised that he would be found, even if Ioan had to burn the forest to ash to get to him. There was no escaping the bubble.
"We'll find your wand, somehow," he assured her, trying to focus on the here and now. "He won't hurt you again. I swear to that. Here, now, love. Lie down and let me hold you."