“Give me.”
Seraphina held out her hands, and Rune passed her two small paper packages. She set them down on a memorial stone and unwrapped them, gently exploring the offerings with the very tips of her fingers. The smell of butter and honey assaulted her, and she licked her lips, her mouth filling with saliva. A groan vibrated in her throat, and she hadn’t even tasted them yet.
“Are they good?” Rune asked, swallowing heavily.
“Soul rolls and braided sweet bread,” she said. “Fresh, too. They should be delicious.”
“So, I did good?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She craned her neck to position the relic in his general direction and noticed he was standing a few feet away, unmoving, looking at her with anticipation. Was his anticipation for the pastries or for her answer?
“Yes, you did so good. Come on.” She patted the spot beside her. “Let’s eat.”
They sat with their knees in the dirt, and Seraphina split the bounty in two. They shared the wine, taking turns sipping from the bottle, and it struck her that she was tasting his lips, and he was tasting hers. No, that was just her mind getting ahead of itself. They were drinking from the same bottle, that was all, and it didn’t mean anything. Still, she felt herself blush. It was the alcohol and nothing else. Their fingers were sticky with honey, their tastebuds were lavished with milk and butter.
“Should I find more?”
“Yes–”
The grand bell at the Church of Our Lady rang, and the smaller bells in the city responded. Was it vespers already? Seraphina couldn’t tell if the sky had darkened. She shook herself and focused on the task at hand. There were more pastries in this churchyard, and she and Rune were going to find them all.
“Witness and believe!”
The voice propagated over the rooftops of Ingolstadt like a wave rolling down from the clouds. The headstones quivered and the earth beneath Seraphina’s knees shuddered. She dug her fingernails into her palms as she felt the voice penetrate her flesh and rattle her very organs.
“What was that?” Rune whispered so feebly that Seraphina barely heard him.
“Behold and tremble!”
Another wave. Seraphina gripped her stomach, certain her insides had shifted.
“That is the Voice of God.”
Chapter Eighteen
To her, he wasn’t a creature.
Seraphina’s appetite was gone. Every time the Voice of God rang out over the city, she felt the food she’d ingested want to lurch back up her esophagus.
“Cast off your doubts. Miracles abound for those who believe with fervent hearts. Come near and wonder. Honor the bones of the saints, and they will keep evil at bay, they will keep the war from our gates.”
She heard Rune groan beside her. He bent forward, hands clutching his head. Seraphina could imagine him clawing at his own scalp, because she wanted to do the same. But she’d experienced this before and knew how it worked.
“It will pass,” she said. “Let it move through you, and it won’t hurt as much.”
Rune shook his head. He tried to say something, but only a whimper came out.
Seraphina got up and pulled at his cloak, urging him to get to his feet.
“I know you want to curl up, but it won’t help. It’s better when your body is upright and stretched. Come on, let’s see for ourselves.”
“I don’t want to see.”
She let out a breath and counted to five. Her insides seemed to readjust, though her heart was clenched tight and beating in her throat, and there was a sharp pain in her side. The Voice of God didn’t say another word. For now. But it would, and Seraphina needed Rune to be on his feet when it happened.
“Up,” she said, an edge to her voice.
He shook his head harder, his hands now covering his eyes.
