“Seraphina Bell,” she repeated her name, hoping he’d written it correctly in the ledger. “I’m with the Sarumite Order. With the resistance. They’ll want to know I’m alive, that I’m back. They’ll want to know what happened.”
“What happened is that you cut a man’s cock off.” Bauer shoved her again.
Weber spat at her feet, then grabbed her arm. They both took hold of her and lifted her off the ground when she tried to resist. She fought them with all she had, thrashing and kicking, all the while trying to appeal to the sergeant’s good sense, though she wasn’t sure he had any. She hated the men’s hands on her, squeezing and bruising. It made her sick to her stomach. Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to clear her head and not think about how easily they’d overpowered her, how she was at their mercy and they had no qualms about pawing at her, grabbing at her arms and sides, around her waist, catching her legs and carrying her like she was a wild animal they were taking to the slaughter, their eyes filled with satisfaction at what was going to happen to her.
“Please,” she yelled over her shoulder. “The headmaster will explain everything!”
The sergeant didn’t say a word, and she couldn’t see his reaction. The watchmen were crossing the inner courtyard with her. She noticed that the more she struggled, the more they pawed at her. She went limp.
“Put me down. I’ll walk on my own.”
Bauer, who was holding her from under her armpits grunted, and he must have nodded at Weber, who had her feet, because she soon felt sloshing mud under her boots. Shoulders slumped, she let them lead her into the prison wing of the building, where she heard a third man with a set of jingling keys.
“Rabid bitch,” Bauer said. “You maimed one of our own.”
“It doesn’t matter who you are,” Weber said.
“She’s no one. And even if she’s a Sarumite, that doesn’t give her a pass.”
They shoved her again, and she gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream at them and tell them they were wrong. She was someone, and yes, she’d cut a guard’s cock off, but he’d deserved it. He’d deserved to die, in fact. Still did, since he was alive, his significantly shorter prick being currently patched up at the garrison hospital. She should’ve killed him, and that had been her intention. Except she couldn’t do it. He was right there, at her mercy, trapped between the dead end of a dirty alley and her two sharp daggers, and she couldn’t do it. How was she going to enact vengeance on the men who’d ruined her life, hunt them down and take from them what they’d taken from her, when she’d balked at the last moment, unable to deliver the final blow?
All that training, for nothing. She was disgusted with herself.
They’d patted her down, taken her cloak, her daggers, and her money. They’d taken the gold crucifix Matteo had given her three years ago, on her birthday. He’d taken her hands in his, looked her in the eyes, and she’d melted on the spot when he chastely kissed her cheek and asked her if she wanted to be with him. She’d collapsed to her knees, and he’d followed her,squeezing her hands harder in his, as if he wouldn’t let go. Ever. A year later, he was butchered on the side of the road while they did even more horrible things to her.
Seraphina had survived despite everything, and more painfully, despite herself.
She heard the moaning creak of a cell door being opened, and before she was pushed into the tight, damp space, one of the watchmen removed her cuffs.
“Boots,” the turnkey said.
She shuffled farther into the cell, not wanting to give them her boots. The floor was stone, as cold as the biting wind howling outside, and it would only get colder with the turn of fall into winter.
She heard one of the watchmen sigh. Was it Bauer?
“I don’t know. Maybe let’s just take the laces.”
“She’s unhinged,” Weber said. “She’d cut off your cock if given the chance.”
The turnkey scoffed. “Is that what she’s in for? She unmanned someone?”
“Hartmann.”
“Who?”
“Georg Hartmann, one of the porters at Krähenstein. She cornered him in an alleyway and gelded him like a horse.”
“He got what he deserved,” Seraphina spat out.
“Shut up!”
“Don’t know him,” the turnkey said, seemingly having lost interest. “Academy porters don’t drink where I drink. They don’t mix with the city watch, do they? They think their shit smells sweeter.”
Seraphina laughed. “Maybe it does. They eat better than you, that’s for sure.”
“Won’t you shut up?” Bauer said exasperated.
“What’s wrong with her face?” the turnkey asked.
