“I don’t want to burden her,” he whispered.
Briar chuckled. “Trust me, nothing can burden my mother. She’s the epitome of serenity.”
She noticed her mother’s raised brow and matched it with her own.
“I’d love to stay, Mother, thank you for offering me food and tea, but the trek down is long, and the other mother, the superior one, is waiting for me.”
Sister Margaret hadn’t offered her neither food, nor tea. She looked familiarly unimpressed with her daughter’s antics.
They got up at the same time, and Briar fought hard not to launch herself in her mother’s arms. It had been so long since the woman who’d birthed her had held her and whispered in her hair that it was going to be all right. They regarded each other for another minute, then Briar nodded, her mother nodded back, and Briar was out the door, into the cold, on the path down to the convent.
Sister Magdalena had waited for her, as promised. She assured Briar that Rose and Nettle had been watered and fed, then announced she was going to bed. Briar found the Mother Superior praying in her chambers. They sat and talked until thesun rose and the grand bell called the sisters to mass. Briar was cross-eyed from exhaustion, but when the Mother Superior said it was advisable for her to attend, she couldn’t escape it. After mass, she noticed how the sisters looked at her, so she thought it sensible to enter the confessional.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
She chose her words, but even so, as she talked and the priest listened, she realized it did her good to voice some of her deepest thoughts and worries, feelings she’d noticed that hadn’t been there before. To be needed so fully by someone, to cry and be heard, to be caught and held firmly. To not fall, because someone was there.
“Seven Pater Nosters and Seven Ave Marias.”
That wasn’t too bad, she thought as she made her way to her room. She collapsed on the bed, murmuring to herself that she’d check on Rune later. She needed to sleep for an hour or two, no more, just enough to feel human again.
Briar slept for a day and a night.
Chapter Seventeen
It was so easy to break other people, impossible to break himself.
Rune sat in darkness. The bed was too small for him, the sheets smelled sweet and strange, so he’d chosen the floor. It felt wrong to be here. Briar’s mother had given him food, milk to drink, and water to wash, all the while not saying a word to him. She’d touched him briefly and gently, only to guide him around her small house and show him where things were. That night, he didn’t sleep. In the morning, she came in with a breakfast tray and sat with him for a while. Beyond thanking her, he didn’t speak to her.
The hours passed and Briar didn’t show up. He wondered about her. She must’ve been tired, fed up with having to care for him, relieved that someone else had taken over. She was home, and she probably didn’t want to see him anymore. He didn’t blame her.
He’d tried to spare her the nightmare of having to look after an invalid. It had been one of the reasons why he’d gone to the bottom of the lake. She shouldn’t have had to be responsible for him, so he’d tried to remove himself. Free her.
Seraphina had freed herself from him, and wherever she was, he knew she was better off. He hoped she’d found a way to implant her eyes and see again. The only thing he regretted was that now, she’d have to kill those men all by herself. He couldn’t even do that for her. She was on her own because he’d proved to be the most despicable monster. She’d given so much of herself, and what had he done? He’d taken from her.
Rune heard the front door open and close. He moved to the bedroom door and listened for Briar’s voice. Silence. It had only been Sister Margaret leaving the house. He turned the knob and stepped into the front room, which served as a parlor anda kitchen. The fire crackled in the hearth. He shuffled his feet carefully, so as to not trip on furniture and break anything, and used his hands to feel his surroundings. He found the utensils cabinet, pulled out the only two drawers, and felt around. A sharp blade nicked his finger. He took the knife and returned to his room.
The night before, at the convent gate, the Mother Superior had pulled Briar aside, thinking their conversation would be private. Maybe Sister Magdalena hadn’t heard, because she was old and didn’t possess his sharp hearing. He, however, had heard every word.
Slave. The devil’s abomination. We can use him.
He was that, and he’d been made to be used by people who despised him, for their own purposes. He wouldn’t contradict Briar, nor the Mother Superior. They were right. It hurt, though, to recognize these things about himself, to know that they were true and he had no choice but to live with them. Seraphina had been the only one to treat him like he was more. She’d seen the error of her ways, and that was a good thing. Even if it broke Rune, he was certain she’d made the right decision.
Around noon, Briar’s mother came again. She took the breakfast he hadn’t touched and left a bowl of fruit. Once again, he was alone with his thoughts.
His ledger sat on a table. He couldn’t read it anymore, though maybe that was a mercy. What good would it do to agonize over the names of those who’d made him up? Parts of him throbbed with long-lost memories, still. There was a vein in his thigh that was particularly insistent, and he’d catch himself reciting verses in Latin.
“Put them to rest. Put all of them to rest.”It was a litany he’d acquired lately, soon after Seraphina had vanished. Without her, there was no point to him. She’d been his anchor, and he’dthought he could be useful to her in return, give her the revenge she craved while ensuring her hands and soul remained clean.
Evening came, and his host brought him dinner. She sat with him for a few minutes. He didn’t eat; she didn’t push him but left the food. She was only doing what was expected of a human being with a heart and a conscience. He didn’t deserve it. Her bed, the warmth of this room, the food she should’ve eaten. He didn’t deserve her daughter, who’d risked her life to bring him here.
Briar must’ve known it too, because it was night, and she wasn’t coming.
Rune took out the knife and thought about where to cut. There had to be something… Something that would end his existence. He could try to separate his head from his body. If he threw it across the room, the spine and ligaments would have no way to fuse back together. But would it actually kill him, and if not, could he stand the pain until he bled out? Would he die if he bled out?
He remembered the frozen lake. The rock he’d tied to his waist had been a reminder to stay down once he reached the bottom; it couldn’t prevent him from swimming back to the surface, which he’d done when he’d realized Briar had jumped in. He hadn’t fought the water filling his nose and mouth, had welcomed it and felt it rush into his lungs and stomach. It had frozen him from within, he’d felt the pressure press against his chest and ribs, but he hadn’t lost consciousness, merely dozed off at some point, lulled by the soothing underwater sounds. It hadn’t been pleasant at first, then he’d gotten used to it. He supposed it had been like drowning over and over – each time more bearable, until it became easy.
What if he stabbed himself in the heart? Or opened his chest and took his heart out, then stabbed it. He didn’t think thekitchen knife was up to that task. He could try to stab his brain, through the ear, maybe.
