‘Ilan!’ Csilla was beside him in an instant, a reprimand in her hazel eyes. ‘You said you wouldn’t hurt him.’
‘No, you told me not to hurt him.’And it’s not like he extended you the same courtesy.
Her eyebrows drew together in frustrated censure. ‘I’m going to get them water,’ she said simply, turning. ‘You won’t hurt him further. Especially not for your own enjoyment.’
He almost snorted at how simply she gave the order, expecting him to obey. But this care was her element, as surely as bones breaking under his hands was his.
Tamas’s soft moans drowned in the slide of the door as she left with a final glance over her shoulder. Ilan gritted his teeth and turned from Tamas’s cell to Mihály’s, working the lock open with a bent key.
‘Mihály.’
The Izir had been allowed to keep most of his clothing, though his pants were creased and filthy and his linen undershirt stained. Ilan worked the gag out of his mouth with quick fingers, nose wrinkling at the stale smell of it as Mihály rubbed sensation back into his face. Who would have ever imagined he’d be wanting the angel to talk.
‘Took you long enough. Csilla couldn’t get the door or that knot. Is she gone?’
Ilan resisted the urge to shove the gag back. ‘Gone to get you water. How are you feeling?’
‘Do you actually care? I’m fine considering I’m tied up and can’t even piss except under guard. Which is quite unfair considering I brought you the man behind all this.’ His nostrils flared in indignation.
‘Your hands were the ones that held the knife.’ But he did have a point.
Mihály went very still. ‘And I was the one who gave him a chance to use his magic. Believe me, I know.’ He swallowed. ‘Csilla seems upset.’
That was an understatement. She was still sore, no doubt, and heartsick. Confused. Perfect.
‘Did you hear what the man said about her?’ He kept his voice low, though Tamas was unlikely to hear anything over his own laboured breathing.
Mihály’s face lit with a strangely innocent illumination. ‘It’s all true. You’ve seen it. She lights brighter than the Eye itself at the touch of the divine. I wouldn’t be shocked if the rest of her was incorruptible as well.’
Incorruptible. The quick healing of her flesh, how those red welts and plum bruises had faded to pale canvas within hours. The only marks that stayed on her were holy scars. No wonder poison turned to sugar on her tongue.
Another miracle from the yellowed pages of history that the current Incarnate had never shown.
‘But there’s no sign she hears the voice?’ The craving for guidance hit with a pang of hunger. One word to show they were still being watched, that though perhaps some parts were misguided, their efforts were acknowledged, appreciated.
‘Maybe They don’t speak to her, but she can certainly speak to Them.’
‘We still need to get her to the Seal.’ They hadn’t had any luck finding a true entrance. They were as likely to die in the labyrinth as find what they needed. ‘With the Incarnate here there will be more clergy around. We’re not going to be able to search.’
Mihály closed his eyes, lashes pale on his cheeks.
‘I have an idea for that. She is going to hate it.’
35
Csilla
‘No. Absolutely not.’
Csilla’s hands shook as she avoided Mihály’s offered arms, not wanting to be swayed. She wouldn’t stand here, wearing robes of mercy grey, and accept that he wanted to die.
‘How do you know they’ll even agree? Your death, or your request – the ethics of killing you were why they sent me in the first place.’ Besides, the public wouldn’t want to see him hang. She hoped.
‘I still have some influence, and my death will be a bargaining chip,’ Mihály assured her, voice far calmer than hers. Ilan had untied him, but the abrasions on his wrists were raw sores. ‘Hang me, have them take my body to the Seal. You’ll be my attendant. Then you’ll do your work, with whatever holiness you have.’
Her work. She didn’t even know what that was. ‘I don’t know how I brought Madame Varga back. I don’t know if I can do the same for you.’ It certainly hadn’t worked for Ágnes. She’d been used to wield the power, but she hadn’t been offered control.
‘And I’m not asking you to. Let me do my penance.’
