Chapter Twenty-Three
She wanted this night to be over.
The rebels’ camp was miserable, tucked down the slope, on the lee side of a ridge.
Four canvas tents stood in a rough horseshoe, their sides stiff with frost, and in the open middle, a small fire burned low in a pit they’d dug down to the dirt.
Two carts sat drawn up at the open end of the horseshoe, half a windbreak and half a wall, loaded with rope, tools, and crates of supplies.
The horses stood picketed off to one side, downwind, blanketed and stamping at the frozen ground.
Snow had been trodden to brown slush around the fire.
It was no place to spend the night, and Seraphina understood why Michael had given the sisters one hour to decide.
“There,” he told Rune, pointing at one of the tents. “Take this and tie her up.” He handed him a length of rope. “Check for weapons first.”
Rune set her down and reached behind her to remove her daggers.
“Boots,” Michael said.
“She doesn’t have anything in her boots,” said Rune, but knelt in front of her and patted her ankles and calves because he was compelled to obey.
“Good.” He took the daggers. “You are forbidden from talking to her.”
He gave her one long look, possibly wondering why she was so important and whether her kidnapping would get him what he wanted, then shook his head as if to remind himself he shouldn’t dwell, only push forward.
He didn’t seem happy about his own actions; he did everything out of a sense of duty.
Which, in Seraphina’s opinion, was misguided, but she’d come to learn even the most corrupted people thought their actions were for the right reasons.
She watched him walk to one of the carts and remove the tarp. Inside, there were four deer, recently slain if she were to judge by the steam that rose in the frigid air. Blood dripped in the snow.
“Thank you, Peter. These will do.”
Seraphina saw a man exit one of the other tents, followed by a boy.
She rubbed her eyes before Rune pulled her arm back to secure her wrist, but still, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
That was Peter, from Langenbach, the tavern owner who’d hosted them in his home.
And that was his older son, Hans. She remembered them well.
They’d shared food and beer, spent hours by the fireplace, talking.
Kaspar must’ve been with them too. He was the younger son, who’d given Seraphina Matteo’s journal.
Michael unloaded the deer one by one and carried the carcasses some distance from the camp. She heard the wolves growl and bark, then the sounds of wet, vicious tearing as they dug into their meal.
She shifted on the hard floor, her spine aching from the position Rune had tied her in.
He’d done a good job. She could barely move.
Now he was positioned outside with his back to her.
The Obedience Lattice was right there, pinned to his cloak, between his shoulder blades.
She had to admit that Michael wasn’t a bad strategist. What a shame he had… maybe another hour to live.
She should’ve been terrified, but she wasn’t.
Even if Rune was not himself, there was no other place she’d rather have been.
She’d gone through hell to find him. This time, she was going to keep her promise: nothing would come between them.
Ever. No matter what it was, nothing would change what they had.
Michael had the power to make him do gruesome things, but she knew it would all be on him, not on Rune.
Whatever orders he carried out under the influence of that cursed lattice, he was already absolved in her mind and soul.
She wished she could tell him that. She saw how tense he was, how tight his shoulders were drawn.
As he’d bound her, tears hadn’t stopped trailing down his cheeks, hot, salty drops hanging off his chin.
He’d turned his back to her so she wouldn’t see his pain. Maybe he thought he was weak.
Seraphina felt rage boil inside her. How could they do this to him?
She looked at the men and women milling about the fire, talking in hushed voices, patching up their wounds, and throwing Rune brazen glances.
She breathed deeply through her nose. In and out.
She would make them pay. She would show them what a stupid idea it had been to try and rob Saint Vivia’s Convent.
And she didn’t care that it had been Michael’s alone.
They’d chosen him as their leader. They followed him. Poor judgement had consequences.
A woman separated from the rest and stepped closer. She looked up at Rune and smiled, then met Seraphina’s gaze. The smile faded.
“I thought it was you,” she said, wiping her hands on her skirt and ducking into the tent. “But I wasn’t sure. You’re both different.”
Willa. She’d tried to chase them out of Langenback to save them from the bone fever.
Instead, Rune and Seraphina had pulled apart the Pestilent Wheels that had poisoned their wells, created a new lattice that worked as an antidote, and saved everyone.
Peter’s wife included, who’d been on her death bed when they’d arrived.
Willa studied her closely. Her gaze snagged at the corners of Seraphina’s eyes, where she knew faint scars were showing.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Seraphina. “Why…” She motioned at her restraints. “Why did Michael order you bound? I should talk to him. I will tell him what you and Rune did for us.”
Seraphina leaned forward, begging her with her eyes.
Willa frowned.
Rune bent over to poke his head inside the tent. Seraphina saw that he wasn’t crying anymore, but his face was sallow. He looked sick, though she knew it was impossible for him to be so.
“She can’t speak,” he told Willa.
Seraphina opened her mouth so Willa could see the stub of her tongue.
Willa’s eyes went wide. She touched Seraphina’s cheek in an attempt at comfort.
“You poor thing. Who did this to you?”
Seraphina saw Rune was about to answer, and she shook her head violently.
They knew Willa, and normally, they would’ve trusted her, but the fact that she and Peter were part of Michael’s group of rebels gave Seraphina pause.
Willa could help them, for old times’ sake, or she could make things worse.
“I will talk to Michael,” the woman made to stand, but Rune placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Your eyes are different,” she said, staring into his golden orbs.
It was as if she were mesmerized by the color.
“Something is going on here – something bad – and I wish to understand. I wish to help. You two saved my life, and the lives of all those marked by the bone fever. Don’t think that I forgot. ”
Seraphina and Rune exchanged a glance. He couldn’t talk to her, but Michael hadn’t extended the forbiddance to include others.
This, and other mistakes he’d made, told her he had little experience using the Obedience Lattice.
Seraphina signaled with a pointed look that he should be the one asking questions, and fast, before the rebel leader saw them and intervened.
“And you, Willa?” he asked.
“Me?” She glanced at Seraphina, who gave her an encouraging smile.
“Oh, I’m here with Peter and his boy, Hans.
I wouldn’t have left Langenbach, but when Peter said they were joining the Faithful, I had to.
I tried to change his mind, but he wouldn’t listen.
What madman drags his only son into war? And so young… Hans is only eleven!”
Seraphina’s stomach dropped.
“What do you mean by only son?” Rune asked. “What about the youngest? Kaspar.”
Willa shook her head and crossed herself.
“A tragedy. The boy died recently, not even ten days ago. He wasn’t sick, there was no accident.
One moment, he was feeding the chickens with his brother, the next, he was on the ground, dead.
Just like that. Like something had struck him.
” She crossed herself again. “The boys’ mother died the next day.
Of a broken heart, everyone says. Peter went insane, and Kaspar has barely said a few words since it happened.
Both devastated, inconsolable… When the Faithful passed through Langenback, Peter saw an opportunity to leave it all behind.
I begged, we argued, and in the end, I packed a bag and joined them.
I couldn’t leave Hans alone with his father.
Given the state he’s in, he can’t even take care of himself, let alone his boy. ”
A sob tore out of Seraphina. Her eyes filled with tears, she opened her mouth, but nothing coherent came out.
“I know,” Willa said, patting her knee and wiping a tear from the corner of her own eye.
“It’s dreadful. A horrible, unfair thing to happen, especially after Peter’s wife was at death’s door and made a full recovery.
To survive the Harvester’s pestilence and just drop dead later…
I keep telling myself, I’m not one to judge God’s ways.
But I delivered both boys, and now one is gone, the other is lost without a mother.
I know I can’t replace her. That’s not my intention.
My hope is that my presence here will help a little.
Maybe Peter will see that the Faithful’s cause will only bring more death to his family. ”
Seraphina could barely listen to her anymore.
She struggled against her binds and collapsed onto her side.
Rune reached for her, but she kicked him, and he retreated, hurt.
She sobbed silently, not wanting to attract attention.
She immediately felt guilty for pushing him away, but she didn’t deserve his help. She didn’t want it.
Kaspar was dead, and it was her fault.
Two years ago, he’d found Matteo’s journal and read it. That had made him the keeper of Matteo’s secret. Nothing happened to him, because he hid the journal and never told anyone.
Then Idris implanted Seraphina’s eyes, a few days after the surgery, she could see again, and she reached for the journal she’d been carrying since Langenbach, craving to read her lost lover’s words.
The secret passed on to her, as well as the toll of the Oath Relic, and Kaspar dropped dead.
Two people had made the oath over the sacred bone – Headmaster Wolff and Matteo da Siena – two people were always going to know the secret at one time.
“Oh, don’t torture yourself,” Willa cooed. “You’re too good. You care so deeply about people.”
Seraphina shook her head and moved away, dragging herself to a corner of the tent.
The floor was cold and hard, bare ground covered over with cut fir boughs piled thick, and blankets thrown on top.
She couldn’t stand Willa and Rune looking at her, thinking she was crying because she cared so much.
It was that too, just not the only reason.
She hadn’t done it intentionally. She would never cause harm to a child.
It could be argued she had done nothing at all, and it was Matteo’s fault again.
How many people would he hurt from beyond the grave?
If she put his soul to rest, if she gathered his parts, and organs, and bones and put them in the ground, would it stop?
He haunted her – a ghost with things left unfinished.
There was no one she could share the burden with.
“What happened at the convent?” Willa whispered to Rune. “Why is Seraphina bound? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Rune looked at Seraphina and made a judgement call.
“You have Peter and Hans to worry about,” he said.
“But I–”
“Willa?” Michael crouched down to look inside the tent. “What is going on here?”
The woman opened her mouth to say something, looked up at Rune, and changed her mind. She swallowed heavily.
“She’s crying,” she said.
“I can see that she’s crying. Let’s leave her alone. She’ll feel better, I’m sure.”
“I should bring her water and something to eat.”
Willa pushed herself to her feet, the movement merciless on her aging joints. Michael graciously helped her up.
“We barely have enough for our people,” he said. “She won’t be with us long, so there’s no need to be concerned about her. Better check on Peter and his son. We’re going back to the convent in half an hour, and you’ll join me this time. We need every abled body.”
Willa glanced at Seraphina, who was curled up on the ground, her face covered by her long, blond hair. She’d stopped sobbing.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll find Peter.”
Seraphina was grateful. She couldn’t look the woman in the eye anymore, couldn’t stand her comforting voice and words of praise at how good a person she was. Soon, Peter and Hans would recognize Rune, then her, and she didn’t believe she could face them. She wanted this night to be over.
She almost didn’t care how it ended.