“How does it work? You can actually... see?”
She heard the alarm in his voice, mixed with a hint of betrayal. She’d told him she was blind, and now it sounded like she’d lied to him, at least partially.
“Not exactly. I wouldn’t call it seeing because I still don’t have my eyes, and the saint’s bone cannot replace them. It’s more like sensing. I can sense the distance between objects. It’s like I can see pitch black shapes on a dark gray background in my mind’s eye, but again, see is not the right word for it. I don’t know how to explain it. I didn’t know what to expect when I implanted the relic. I was already good at fighting with daggers and a stick without it, good at orienting myself after two years of assiduous practice. But I figured, if I was to kill the men who’d carved my eyes out and left me in a ditch by the side of the road, a shadow of the woman I once was, then I needed all the help I could get.”
Revenge for herself, and for Matteo. That was what Seraphina lived for.
Rune was silent. She waited for him to process her words, knowing it was too much to dump on a person at once. She could feel his eyes on her, and she tried to imagine the shade of them. Was it a light blue, or a dark blue? She hung her head, letting her hair fall around her face. Her neck was sore after craning it for so long to “look” up at him.
When he finally spoke, it was one word. Her name.
“Seraphina.”
And it encompassed everything she needed to hear from him. Hurt because she hurt. Anger toward those who’d destroyed her. Relief that she was alive and safe, and with him, in this space that smelled like piss and sorrow and dried blood but was all theirs. Hope because she could still set things right.
Compassion.
Not a trace of pity.
“Tonight,” he said.
She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. Or it might’ve been a grimace.
“Tonight, Rune.”
Chapter Eleven
She ran without knowing where she was going.
They waited until the guards finished the evening rounds. Neither of them touched the food they’d been brought, even though they were hungry. They were always hungry, and Seraphina, especially, hadn’t eaten much in the past few days, her bleeding having left her nauseated. Her stomach was in knots, but the last thing on her mind was sustenance. She wasn’t sure she could hold down a sip of water.
She felt Rune shift beside her in the dark.
“The turnkey must be asleep by now.” He pushed her behind him as he approached the cell door. “Stay close. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way.”
She wanted to reach out and touch him but stopped herself. Instead, she tightened the knot at the back of her head and focused her senses. She was unarmed, and she hated it. She heard him push his hand through the bars, his fingers closing around the iron lock.
He’d told her the plan, so she would be aware of his every move. Now that he knew she couldn’t see, he had the tendency to overexplain things and describe what he was doing and why. They’d spent the entire day preparing for this.
Seraphina heard him grunt with effort, then the sound of grinding metal seemed to fill the space and echo down the corridor, too loud for her liking. The lock gave way with a dull snap, and Rune caught the pieces before they clattered to the floor. He set down the broken lock with barely a sound.
The cell door creaked as he eased it open. They both froze, listening. A prisoner in a nearby cell muttered something in his sleep. Another coughed wetly. If anyone heard them, they probably thought it was the guards doing a late check, if they thought anything at all.
Rune moved first, and Seraphina followed. The corridor was narrow and cold, and she could feel the dampness in the air, smell the mildew and unwashed bodies, and the sour reek of waste buckets. She kept one hand near the wall without touching it, moving carefully, letting Rune’s quiet steps guide her. He was barefoot, and she had to strain to hear his footsteps, while her unlaced boots were giving her a hard time as she tried her best to move like a cat.
They reached the door that led to the courtyard. Rune tested it and found it unlocked.
Seraphina felt a flash of surprise and disbelief. Then again, why would the guards lock a door only they used? The prisoners were all in their cells, locked behind iron bars. It would be tedious to lock and unlock this door every time the turnkey or a watchman needed to pass through. Still, she was grateful. One less obstacle in their path.
Rune pushed it open, and it groaned, then cold air rushed in, so sharp and strong that it stung Seraphina’s lungs. She gasped and coughed, quickly covering her mouth with both hands.
She hadn’t breathed fresh air in weeks. Freezing rain pattered against stone walls and sloped roofs, and she heard the wind moving through spindly, cracking branches. The unforgiving October weather hit her exposed arms and legs, but it was easy to ignore the cold when her body was running on barely concealed panic.
The courtyard stretched wide before them. She could sense the space, the distance to the low buildings on either side, and to the gatehouse at the opposite end.
“Stick to the walls,” Rune whispered to her. “Stay in the shadows, where they won’t see you. I’ll go first.”
“No,” she whispered. “We go together.”
