For a moment another hand had held her heart and worked through her, and she was complete.
There were no words for the horror and fewer for the ecstasy, and the sharp salt of tears stung the abrasions on her face.
I think I did a miracle.
Bells. Her clarity had returned enough to hear the bells. Of course someone would be coming. It was right that monstrosity be immediately met with punishment. No one would look at all this blood and think that she was innocent. ‘They’re coming for me.’
‘They’re not. The Church was burning.’
‘Burning?’ Her breath hooked in her throat. It couldn’t be an accident. Not when she’d felt the light go out.
He nodded. ‘And I have to tell you Ágnes was caught up in it. Ilan felt you should see her before...’
Before it was too late.Csilla’s heart clenched.
‘Scrub off the blood and change.’ Mihály stood and gestured to the stairs with an air of crisp finality. ‘Be quick about it.’
Csilla’s head snapped up at the coolness in the order.
‘But you should stay. What if she...’ What if she woke up and remembered? ‘She’s going to need someone here.’
What if she never woke up at all?
Mihály’s expression softened into something painfully tender. ‘I can only help one of you at the moment. I’ll pick you. There’s nothing worse than being too late.’
Csilla shook her head, heavy as it was. ‘I can’t leave her. It’s my fault. I did this.’ The hollow in her was back, and stained.
‘Did what, exactly?’ Mihály’s lips thinned. ‘You look a sight, but there’s not a single scratch on either of you that I can see. Surely Tamas wasn’t trying something after yelling my ear off about how stupid it was?’
‘I...’ He had been there, talking to her. Talking to something in her. A dark understanding dawned. ‘Oh no.’
‘Oh no, what? Csilla?’
She ran a hand through a curl of hair, sticky with drying blood. ‘Yes. Let’s go back to the cathedral.’ She didn’t know if Mihály would believe what she now knew about Tamas, and if he started to argue it would take up time she didn’t have.’ But we can’t just leave her. Find the maid. Tell her we’re getting help.’
She turned up the stairs, back to her room, and stripped off her dress. The bright stains on her skin looked all the more stark against pale, uncovered flesh, and she poured water quickly into the washbasin, sticking her hands in until the water turned pink.
It was wrong that her reflection looked no different than it always had as she rinsed her hair as best she could, careless splashes puddling on the dresser wood. She’d held evil, given it her heart and hands.
But you also held light.
She tried to pick up a comb, her hand shaking too much to hold it.
A high scream echoed from downstairs, followed by the muffled cadence of Mihály’s comfort. For now they had to get back to the cathedral.
She’d see to the breaking of her own heart, then worry about his.
?
The damaged sanctuary was a makeshift vigil, candles dripping beads of wax and incense that couldn’t cover the bitter smell of powders sprinkled between corpses and those near to, keeping insects away. Those well enough to be moved had been taken to nearby homes. Ágnes wasn’t among them. Wrapped in blankets, she looked like a baby born too early. Fragile. Grey. Strange how Asten brought everyone back to infancy at the end of life.
The fresh linen lying across her stained body was a lie, making everything seem peaceful as it rose and fell too slowly. Csilla knelt beside her, folding her hands and looking back up at Mihály.
‘Did you heal her?’
He shook his head. Fear rose in Csilla’s throat at the hopelessness of the gesture. ‘Her lungs were already damaged. The smoke ruined what was left. She is suffocating.’
A slow and nasty death. She deserved so much better. Better than this end, better than a wayward orphan to comfort her.
