It made sense that when Matteo was killed and Seraphina was rescued by the nuns at Saint Vivia’s, her first instinct wasn’t to run back to the academy. Now, she was ready. Now, if she could, she’d walk right through the gates and rejoin the resistance, and wouldn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought. Too badshe was stuck in a cell, waiting to die, her only anchor to this miserable world the warm, solid man pressed against the length of her back.
Another wave of shredding pain pierced through her belly, and she felt moisture leak out of her. She gasped and squeezed her thighs.
“No, not now.”
She felt Rune stir behind her, and she scrambled away from him, crossing the cell to curl up in a ball by the door. It was early morning, and the guards would soon make their rounds.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she told Rune. “Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t. Instead, he sat up and waited, listening to the sounds of the prison as it woke up, men coughing and spitting violently, cursing the cold, crying over frostbitten toes. Seraphina heard him take big, deep breaths.
“Are you injured?” he asked.
“No.”
“I smell blood, but it’s not mine. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That Hartmann hurt you badly.”
“He didn’t. I’m not bleeding from anywhere.”
“But I smell blood.”
She bit her lower lip hard and hung her head in shame. When she heard the guards start their usual banging to make the prisoners move away from the doors so the turnkey could change their buckets and give them food, Seraphina wrapped her hands around the bars, anxiety making her heart beat in her throat.
Today, it was Bauer and Weber. She had a chance.
“Please,” she said when they approached the cell.
“Move back, you know how this goes.” Bauer sounded bored.
“Please, I need some cloths.”
“What? He has a cloth,” Weber tipped his chin toward Rune. “Ask him to share it.”
“No, you don’t understand. I need cloths. Plural. For my...” She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and chewed at it savagely, wishing for the stone floor to open beneath her, so she could fall straight into the pits of hell.
“Oh,” said Bauer. He seemed to be at a loss for words.
Weber laughed. “Where do you think you are? At the royal palace, where servants care about your feminine sensibilities?” With that said, he banged the club against the cell door, making Seraphina jump. “Move! We don’t have all day. Somehow, you always manage to make our jobs harder.”
She huddled in a corner while the turnkey changed their bucket with an empty one, though not necessarily cleaner, and placed two meals on the floor. She heard him fumble a minute longer, and realized he was filling their other bucket with clean water.
“Look at the creature,” Weber said. “Look at the hunger in his eyes. Maybe now that you’re bleeding, you’ve finally stirred his appetite. The sooner you’re gone, the better. I’m tired of that academy porter coming over every few days, ordering us around as if we’re beneath him.” He spat on the floor and locked the cell. “Fucking academy porters.”
It struck Seraphina that of course the guards would hate Hartmann. Even Koch and Fischer, though they seemed to be more partial to him, or maybe they were just crueler and more willing to go along with his sick games. She could only hope that one of these days, one of the guards would reach his limit and go to the sergeant.
“You’re in pain,” Rune said.
The sound of his voice made her jump again, and she retook her position close to the door, hands wrapped around the bars.Maybe the turnkey would take pity on her and come back when the guards were gone. Surely, he could spare a cloth or two.
“It’s normal,” she said. “Please, stop asking me questions.”
She ran her hands over the bars and was surprised to find that some of them were bent. They hadn’t been bent before. She remembered the metallic sound she’d heard when Hartmann had her in the other cell and was beating on her. Rune had shaken the door in its hinges. Had he bent the bars? But that was impossible. They were thick iron, unyielding.
