“Why didn’t you escape? Freedom was right there, yet you let them catch you and beat you into submission.” He squinted in the darkness, his eyes zeroing in on the places where Rune had been shot. “How are you not dead?” He shook his head in resignation. He knew better than to expect an answer. “Creature...”
With that, he walked out of the cell, banged the heavy wooden door shut, and locked it.
Rune found himself in a void. Once the sound of the sergeant’s footsteps vanished, there was nothing left. No noise, no light, barely any air.
But most painful of all, she was gone.
No, not painful. It was good. She was out of this hell, free, safe from what that bastard Hartmann wanted to do to her. He would have put her in a cell with another prisoner, and then another, until one of those wretched men would’ve done unspeakable things to her and then killed her. Rune didn’t know much about the justice system, except that it was far removed from actual justice, if the guards had broken every rule and common decency, and all they got as a reprimand was a pay cut. Seraphina wouldn’t have made it to her trial. And even if she did, he doubted the magistrate would’ve ruled in her favor, even after learning what Hartmann had done to her two years ago.
Seraphina had talked a lot about Krähenstein Academy, and how she was important to the Sarumite Order – the best shard technician in Bavaria – and about her lover, now lost, the master weaver that some still hoped was alive. But Rune had glimpsed no proof that the academy truly cared – or had ever cared – about Seraphina and what had happened to her. Had it been him, had he been a part of the Order, when she’d disappeared two years ago, he would’ve looked for her everywhere, turned the country inside out and never rested until he found her.
He slammed his head against the wall, hard enough to rattle his thoughts and set them back in order.
These fantasies were ridiculous. He was no one. He would never have a say in the way of the world. He wasn’t even a part of the world, so to daydream about belonging to an organization so mystical and ancient was embarrassing. What he would’ve done differently had he had any power...
He’d had power just an hour ago, when he’d broken them out of prison and sent Seraphina to her freedom. And what had he done? He’d sent her alone. He’d said so many things to her, made so many promises.
“You shouldn’t soil your hands with their blood.”
“I’ll kill them for you. One by one.”
“We’ll escape together.”
Lies. He’d known, and she’d probably known, but she’d still hoped. Out there, before the broken gate, she’d taken his hand and pulled him toward her, urged him to follow her. It had been so hard for him to turn her down, walk away, because he would’ve followed her anywhere, to the ends of the world, to the goriest pits of the revenge she sought. But the sky...
The sky, gaping above him. The wind, howling through his bones. Beyond the gate, he didn’t see freedom, he saw streets and winding alleys he didn’t know how to navigate, bustling markets from dawn till dusk, shouting people, clatteringcarriages, dogs, and horses, a river that was treacherous and beckoned one to its depths.
Even standing in the courtyard, empty air pressing in on him instead of secure walls, he’d felt like he was suffocating. A vise grip inside his chest, and he could’ve sworn his organs had started to shrink and shrivel, shying away from the world outside. Each and every body part reminding him they weren’t meant to be out and moving with the living, and only when he was tackled to the ground, pushed into the mud, had his parts sung with relief. Because they were supposed to be buried.
Six feet under.
Years ago.
His body knew it was meant to be with the worms, not breathing and yearning for things he couldn’t have. Like the touch of her dainty hand, the sound of her voice when she sang lullabies, the brush of her golden hair against his neck when they slept back-to-back. The smell of her skin.
He’d learned so many things about her. How he longed to learn more.
To know her heart, discover what she tasted like. Hold her when she sobbed with no tears, listen to the parts of her story she’d left unsaid. He’d embrace and contain her when she was vulnerable, drink her fears from her trembling lips, and tell her she was beautiful and pure, and all those who’d wronged her would die by his hand.
All these things he’d wanted to do when they’d shared a cell. All these things he would’ve done if he’d gone with her. She would’ve let him, maybe. Not at first, but in time, as she allowed him to draw closer.
Daydreams, again.
Rune squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with fury.
He was a coward. He’d betrayed her.
He wasn’t going to kill anyone for her, because he simply wouldn’t be there. She would go after the men who’d ruined her, and she’d soil her hands with their filthy blood. It wouldn’t make her less pure, but the terror of taking human lives... Would she survive it? She’d exact revenge for the death of her lover...
Rune ached.
He would never know how it felt to be loved by someone with such devotion that spilling blood was a fair way to show it. Thinking about it, he could do it for a woman. For Seraphina. But he couldn’t imagine reciprocation. And he wouldn’t ask for it.
He was unworthy of these daydreams alone. Indulging in them only made him feel more miserable and pitiful. And that, he did deserve.
It was better this way. He would’ve been a burden to her, panicking at every step, wanting to duck into alcoves, like he had when he’d been on his own, trying to make sense of the city. He would’ve slowed her down, and she would’ve come to hate him and despise his weakness. He didn’t think he would’ve gotten better even if she helped him. There was something broken in his brain, and he didn’t know what it was or if it could be fixed.
Maybe his brain had been this way before. If its original owner hadn’t been able to find a cure, then what chance did Rune have?
