Not green, then. She’d have to stare into gold. These were the Sentinel’s eyes, which Idris had removed in a hurry before coming here. Smart. In battle, a blind revenant could do more harm than good for the side he was on.
Seraphina nodded. She didn’t feel good about it, but it was better than nothing. Rune had to see. Not only to help the nuns; he simply had to see.
As Idris unfurled his emergency kit on the table, she led Rune to a chair. She nudged Idris to explain to him what was going to happen.
“I’m Idris,” he said. “Seraphina and I studied together at Krähenstein Academy. I’m a member of the Sarumite Order, like her, a naturalist and a surgeon. I implanted her eyes, and now I have two for you.”
“Whose?” Rune asked.
“They belonged to someone…” He cleared his throat. “Someone we used to know.”
That reminded Seraphina. The ledger was in the bedroom, and it was time for her to face it. She made sure Rune was all right and Idris had all he needed, then took the heavy book, sat with it in her lap, and read it from cover to cover, her finger moving down the endless lists of body parts that had been used to build the twelve Constructs – five hadn’t made it – and twenty Sentinels. Matteo’s name was mentioned often. She found pen and paper, and started taking notes.
She’d meant it when she’d said she wanted to give Matteo a proper burial. She wrote down where each part of him was. Rune only had his hands, but Construct Eleven had more that had belonged to him. As for Sentinel Nine, Matteo’s right lung was inside him.
She filled the piece of paper, folded it and placed it between the pages of Matteo’s journal. Under the bed, Seraphina found a small chest with knickknacks – Sister Margaret’s personal belongings. If she trusted someone with this ledger, that was Briar, and by extension, her mother. She hid it at the bottom, covered it with ribbons and old letters, and pushed the chest to the very back, against the wall. She didn’t know what was going to happen, who and why had attacked the convent in the night. For now, this was the best she could do. She got her cloak and Rune’s and returned to the front room.
Rune looked up as she entered. Blue eyes met eerie gold, and Seraphina pressed a hand to her chest and stumbled back. She blinked fast to keep her tears at bay.
It wasn’t him anymore. She knew it was absurd, but the Sentinel’s eyes made him look like a complete stranger. She’d been afraid of this.
He stood up and walked toward her. When he brushed his fingers over her cheek, she almost flinched. It was subtle; she prayed he hadn’t noticed.
“You’re as beautiful as I remembered.”
She bit her lower lip and tried to smile. He smiled back. They were looking at each other for the first time, yet it was tainted. All she could see was the torment in Nine’s eyes as he begged her and Idris to find a way to end him. Those last moments when she’d held his hand, the last look he gave her before he spent his final breath. She saw through those very eyes every time she fell asleep, and the relic’s toll transported her in his body, in his mind, and forced her to experience the manipulation she’d inflicted on him. In those nightmares, she was the one lying on the operating table, Idris cutting and pulling, cracking her open while she silently endured the agony, unable to move because her own command had made her submit. She was the one dying, behind those golden eyes, as she stared into her own blue.
“We must go,” Idris said.
Seraphina took Rune’s hand, and her mind was somewhat appeased. She knew his hands. Once Matteo’s, now his, these were hands she loved. She’d focus on that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They were together, and that was all that mattered.
The gate was open. Beyond it, Seraphina could see moving torches, the swarm of bodies as men and women fought, and hear the sounds of blades, shouting, panic. She, Rune, and Idris descended the hill. There were two people flanking the gate, a man and a woman, and Seraphina advanced confidently toward them, daggers at the ready. It was hard to see in the dark, but as far as she could tell, these were normal people. Peasants. They weren’t in uniform, and the weapons they wielded weren’t army issued. The man had an axe, and the woman had a makeshift spear. She pointed it at Seraphina’s face.
“Don’t make me do it,” the woman gritted out.
Seraphina merely cocked an eyebrow. Rune reached from behind her, grabbed the spear, and pulled it toward him so hard that the woman stumbled and fell face-first in the snow. With a cry, the man raised the axe above his head and swung it at Rune. Rune sidestepped and hit him in the back, sending him sprawling. Seraphina took hold of Rune’s sleeve to get his attention. When he looked down at her, she shook her head, eyes begging.
“I think she’s trying to say you shouldn’t hurt them,” Idris provided. “Too badly. They’re not experienced.”
He looked at Seraphina, and she nodded, letting him know he got it right.
Rune produced a roll of rope from the pocket of his cloak. He snatched both the man and the woman by their clothes, sat them back-to-back against the convent wall, and tied their hands together.
“Abomination,” the man spat. But Seraphina could see that he was frightened.
She leaned over the woman and gripped her chin, tilting her head back to make eye contact.
“Who are you?” Idris spoke for her.
“We’re the ones who will win this war for everyone. For you too, so you better release us.”
“Why attack the convent?” Idris asked.
“The good sisters are sitting on relics just like the Order at Krähenstein. We don’t mean to harm, but we need those bones. If we must, we’ll spill blood to get them.”
