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.”
“Seraphina.” His voice was pleading, yet firm.
“Rune.”
“Please.”
She pursed her lips.
“Stay hidden. Once I reach the gate, wait for me to break it open, then run.”
Before she could argue further, he moved into the open courtyard.
She pressed herself against the wall, her heart racing so fast she thought it might burst. The rain soaked through her dress, and she was shivering, but she moved along the perimeter, keeping to the edges where the shadows were deepest.
A shout rang out from the gatehouse.
“Stop right there!”
Rune didn’t stop. She could hear him moving forward with purpose, his steps steady despite the sloshing mud.
“Stand down, whoever you are!” Another voice, higher pitched. “We’ll shoot!”
The sound of muskets being raised and metal clicking into place made Seraphina want to scream at him to stop, to come back, but she pressed her lips together and kept moving along the wall. The watchmen couldn’t see well in the darkness and the rain. That was the only advantage they had.
The first musket cracked, impossibly loud in the enclosed courtyard. She heard the impact, heard Rune’s body jerk with it, heard his grunt of pain. But he didn’t fall. He kept walking.
The second musket fired. Another impact, another stagger, but still he moved forward. The guards were shouting now, fumbling to reload, their voices high with panic.
Rune reached them before they could shoot him again. She heard the first guard hit the stone wall with a sickening thud, then the sound of wood splintering and another body hitting the ground.
Seraphina couldn’t stay back any longer. She moved forward, away from the wall, her feet splashing through mud and puddles. She reached the gatehouse as Rune struggled with the heavy beam that barred the gates from the inside.
One of the guards was groaning on the ground. The other was silent.
Behind them, the prison erupted into mayhem. The gunshots had woken everyone, and men were shouting, banging on their cell doors.
Fisting her skirt to keep the hem from dragging in the muck, she turned and tilted her head to the side, trying to determine if anyone was coming for them from that direction.
The door that had been unlocked banged open, the metal handle hitting the wall.
She heard the turnkey stumble out into the rain, and she braced herself for him coming at them, but nothing happened.
It seemed that he was frozen in place, not knowing what to do, probably struggling to see through the unrelenting sleet.
With an unnatural grunt, Rune lifted the beam out of its iron brackets.
It thudded to the ground, and he pushed his entire weight into the gates to open them.
Seraphina was speechless. The beam was made of oak, and heavy enough that two or three men needed to lift at once to remove it in the morning and replace it at night.
The fact that Rune could do it alone, the fact that he’d broken the lock to their cell with his bare fist…
And the musket balls hitting him to no avail…
Seraphina filed this information for later, when she’d have time to ponder on how this man was so strong, when he’d survived on stale bread and gruel for more than a month.
“Run.”
She didn’t react.
He stepped away from the open gate, and she felt the rush of air as he waved his hand in the direction of the street. She caught it and pulled him to her, entwining their fingers.
“Together,” she said.
His fingers were warm and steady in her grip.
Long, calloused, scarred. Again, she felt stitches, as if deep wounds had been sewn closed and the surgeon had forgotten to remove the thread.
There was an echo of familiarity in the way their hands fit together.
Hers was small, his was big and strong, enveloping hers with ease, with the gentleness of a man who knew that if he squeezed too hard, he could smash her bird-like bones.
Seraphina gasped, feeling her chest contract with longing.
Rune’s touch reminded her of something she’d lost. She’d felt this pull before, had lived for years with the despair and craving of wanting more than to hold hands.
She could see Matteo now, tall and handsome, with his long dark hair gathered at his nape in a silk tie, with his golden-brown eyes, holding her to him, yet keeping her at a respectful distance.
“Rune,” she pleaded.
She couldn’t lose him like she’d lost Matteo, even though it was different. They weren’t in love, and they barely knew each other, but they’d gone through so much, and now, her hand in his felt like a whisper from another time, another life.
Until he wrenched himself free and stepped back from her.
“What are you–” She tried to reach for him again, but he was too far and moving farther away. “They will kill you. Listen to me, they will–”
A bell started clanging from inside the gatehouse, and more guards appeared, pouring out of doorways she hadn’t known existed. They were yelling, raising their muskets, and she heard the crack of gunfire, one shot after another.
Rune staggered with each impact. The relic in her eye socket showed her dark shadows moving, and she became aware of how his body jerked and twisted, how he fought to stay upright. He didn’t fall, he started running toward the center of the courtyard, drawing them away from her.
Seraphina stood alone in the archway, the open gate at her back.
She’d known this, so why was she disappointed?
He’d only told her he would come with her to appease her, distract her, and convince her to let him get her out.
He’d lied every time, and she’d known. It didn’t mean the confirmation hurt less.
A watchman came at her from the side, his boots splashing through mud.
She sensed him just in time and spun to face him.
He swung something at her head, probably a club, and she ducked under it.
She went low, driving her fist into his throat, aiming for his Adam’s apple.
He made a wet, choking sound and staggered back.
She followed him, striking at his eyes with her fingers, and when he tried to grab her wrists, she twisted free and slammed her knee into his groin. He collapsed, gurgling and gasping.
Her body buzzed with exhilaration. When attacked, she moved on instinct, defending herself and going for the most vulnerable spots. She had to fight dirty as a woman, especially unarmed. Briar had taught her. Seraphina could hear her now.
“Never allow a man to get close enough. He will overpower you with his sheer mass. If someone has to die, let it not be you.”
“Don’t I know it,” she’d told Briar.
Rune had fallen. There were shadows on top of him, a mass of bodies. She heard the thud of clubs and boots striking flesh. Was he even fighting back, or had he given up?
Another watchman lunged at her. Seraphina heard him coming, sensed the shape of him, and this time, he had a musket.
She sidestepped his thrust, avoiding the bayonet, and grabbed the barrel, yanking it toward her.
He stumbled forward, off balance, and she twisted the weapon out of his hands.
It was heavier than she’d expected. She swung it hard, aiming for his head, and felt the stock connect with the back of his skull. He went down without a sound.
There were too many, though. They were swarming Rune, and she was too far away to help him. Even if she tried, even if she fought her way through all of them, he wouldn’t come with her. He’d made his choice.
He didn’t want to be saved.
A shout came from her left, and she knew she was out of time. If she stayed, they would catch her, throw her back in a cell, or worse. Everything Rune had done would be for nothing.
Seraphina turned and bolted through the broken gate, into the darkness beyond, into the freezing rain and the empty streets of Ingolstadt.
Her feet pounded against cobblestones, she almost lost a boot, and she held onto her skirts, focusing on the shadows dancing behind the implanted relic, judging the distance between herself and a lamp post, avoiding it at the last moment.
She ran without knowing where she was going. She would orient herself later.
She’d escaped, but she’d left him behind.
He’d lied to her, yes, but she’d let him lie.
She’d known, and she’d let him do it anyway, went along with his plan. She felt betrayed, but what right did she have when she was out, and he was going to be dragged back in?
Rune was going to die. Soon, they’d decide the investigation had gone for too long, a swift joke of a trial would find him guilty of murder, and his head would roll.
Seraphina had to stop thinking about him.
It was a matter of time, but the truth was undeniable: Rune was no more.