Chapter Twenty
Her name rumbled out of him, in that low, soul-melting register.
For hours, Seraphina had been putting distance between them and Ingolstadt.
She held the reins gently, but her back and shoulders ached from the hard seat.
That wasn’t the only hardship. With every turn of the wheels, her heart sank deeper.
She should’ve felt relieved the city was behind, but the world outside Ingolstadt was proving to be nothing like she remembered from a month ago.
The road had been emptier then, manageable with only a few travelers heading north.
Now it was filled with people, and at first, she only sensed a few shadows drifting past, refugees and soldiers moving in both directions.
Then more came, until the road was packed with bodies and the coach slowed to a crawl.
She could hear children crying. Men pushed carts loaded with belongings, and the elderly struggled to keep pace.
The relic showed her their shadows pressing close to the coach, and she hunched lower in the driver’s seat, trying to make herself small.
She could feel their eyes on her, and their looks were bitter.
There was envy, suspicion, resentment. They stared at the glossy black landau with its gold leaf coat of arms, and at the well-fed horses pulling it.
Seraphina couldn’t see their faces, but she knew.
The horses grew skittish. She felt their reluctance in how they tossed their heads and tried to veer away from the crowds. It was becoming hard to keep them steady.
The front line was close, and Seraphina couldn’t understand how Ingolstadt remained untouched. It was as if the city was isolated, protected, existing in a sort of bubble, while out here the war consumed everything. The roads were chaos, the fields were trampled, and the people were fleeing north.
The coach was a liability now, drawing attention they didn’t need.
It was too visible. They wouldn’t be able to cross into enemy territory like this, not when military checkpoints lay ahead.
They would need to take back roads, slip through forests and fields, and avoid the main routes entirely if they wanted any chance of reaching the other side of the front line. And it would have to be done on foot.
When the occasion arose, Seraphina turned the horses down a narrow side road lined with trees.
The branches created a tunnel overhead, blocking out the weak afternoon light, and the sounds of the crowd faded behind.
The relic showed her a large shadow ahead, and she guessed it was an inn.
Travelers and soldiers would stop here constantly – which meant news from the front – and she and Rune could rest, eat something hot, and decide what to do next. It was more than she could hope for.
She pulled the horses to a halt in the courtyard. They neighed and stamped their hooves, and within moments she heard light footsteps approaching. A stable boy, young from the cheerful way he moved, came to grab the reins and welcome her.
Seraphina hopped down, but kept her head bowed, her hood pulled low over her face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out one whole gulden, pressing it into the boy’s hand.
He gasped, recovered quickly, and then he was bowing, over and over, his words tumbling out in a rush.
“Thank you, ma’am, thank you so much. I’ll take good care of them, I promise. I’ll feed them, and water them, and brush them down proper, I swear it.”
“See that you do,” Seraphina said, and walked around the side of the coach.
She knocked on the door. Rune opened it but didn’t emerge.
“Why did we stop?”
She noticed the tension in his voice. He seemed cautious and agitated. A few hours in the enclosed space had brought back his fears, and she could sense his restlessness.
She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the solid muscle under the layers of fabric. He flexed, as if wanting to pull away, but then relaxed slightly.
“I found an inn. It’s better for us to stop, eat something, get a room, and clean up. We’re both tired, and we need to make a plan.”
He nodded but still didn’t move to get out. He tried not to let on that he was nearly paralyzed, but Seraphina had learned to read him. She pulled at his sleeve.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then come with me.”
He let out a sigh, and before he climbed down from the coach, she felt him tremble. He was steady on his feet, at least, and she led him toward the front door of the inn.
When they stepped inside, it was as if they had entered a new realm.
Seraphina heard the crackle of a fire, logs popping and settling in a hearth somewhere to her left.
The smell of wood smoke mixed with roasted meat, onions and cabbage, rich and thick, making her mouth water.
The yeasty aroma of beer hung in the air, and she could hear the low murmur of conversations, the clatter of wooden bowls and spoons, and footsteps moving across wooden floors.
It wasn’t too crowded. Late afternoon meant most travelers were still on the road or had already settled in their rooms, and no one paid them any attention except for one person. Seraphina could sense her height as she approached. She was a sturdy woman, most likely the innkeeper’s wife.
“Welcome to the White Horse,” she said in a shrill voice. “What do you need?”
She had said “welcome”, but she wasn’t very welcoming. Seraphina could feel her eyes studying her and Rune, who hung back, head low and shoulders slumped.
Seraphina didn’t pull her hood off, and kept her head bowed as she answered. She was aware that it wasn’t polite, but she’d rather the woman didn’t see the scarf tied around her face.
“A hot meal. And if you have a room free, we’ll take it.”
“There is a room, but it’s one of the larger ones, so it’s more expensive.”
She was suspicious of them, as it was healthy to be. They were both wearing new clothes, clean and decently made, but they certainly didn’t look wealthy.
“How much for the room and dinner?”
“Five gulden.”
Seraphina reached into her pocket and pulled out the leather wallet. She opened it and counted the notes. The woman’s attitude shifted when she saw the money, though her greed didn’t fully replace her suspicion.
Seraphina felt these things in her gut. Since she’d lost her sight, she’d become more attuned to people and their moods.
Sometimes she read them so well that it was almost like witchcraft, and it had nothing to do with the relic.
She’d learned to divine people’s intentions before she’d stolen and implanted Saint Vivia’s bone in her eye socket.
The only time her sixth sense had failed her was when she was thrown into Rune’s cell.
The guards had messed with her head, telling her he was a monster who would eviscerate her, but that hadn’t been it.
It hadn’t been what had confused her. Now, thinking back to those first few days sharing the cramped space with him, she realized it had been him.
He was constantly sending her mixed signals, as if he were a man who couldn’t decide who he was.
As if he were – and this thought was utterly ridiculous – made up of mismatched moods and sentiments.
The woman snatched the money from Seraphina’s hand, which effectively brought her back to the present. She tucked it into her generous cleavage and pressed a heavy iron key into Seraphina’s palm.
“Up the stairs,” she said. “The third room to your right.”
Rune hadn’t spoken a single word during the exchange.
Seraphina knew this was overwhelming for him, that he was trying to make himself small and invisible, trying to survive an interaction that was beyond his capabilities.
She took him by the sleeve and guided him toward the stairs, and they climbed to the second floor in silence.
The door creaked when they opened and closed it.
Once inside, she pulled down her hood and stood still for a moment, listening. The room was quiet, and she could sense Rune behind her, standing like a statue. She shook her head and stepped closer to him, reaching up to pull his hood down.
“It’s all right. What do you see? Describe the room for me.”
“It’s clean,” he said. “There’s a bed against the far wall. It has a wooden frame, the mattress looks worn, but thick, and there are two pillows and a wool blanket. There’s a small table with two chairs near the window. The window has shutters. They’re closed. Do you want me to open them?”
“Not yet. Go on.”
Seraphina had gotten used to him being her eyes.
And whenever she asked him to describe something to her, she could feel him relax and regain some of his confidence.
It helped him focus. It grounded him in space, especially if it was unfamiliar, and it also made him feel like he was useful to her. Which he was. Endlessly.
Was she becoming dependent on him? That was a scary thought.
“There’s a fireplace on one wall, but no fire.
There’s a screen in the corner, a simple wooden frame with fabric panels.
Behind it, there’s a wooden tub and a stool with a bar of soap on it.
There’s also a chamber pot. There are hooks on the wall for hanging clothes, candles on the mantle, and a small mirror. ”
Seraphina huffed. “I’m so glad. It’s been a while since I checked myself in a mirror. I’m not much of a lady, I’ll admit.”
He chuckled, then stopped himself.
She smiled.
“It’s all right, you can laugh. It was a joke.”
“Dark,” he said, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
“All the best jokes are dark.”
“I can tell you what you look like,” he said. He sounded too serious to be making his own joke.
Seraphina inclined her head. “Yes? You’re my mirror now?”
“No… I think…” He hesitated, his voice uncertain. “Sometimes I think you’re my mirror.”
“Huh. I’m not sure how that works.”
“I look at you and I see…”