Page 75 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Twice today he had used her given name, and Silas wasn’t even sure she had heard him the first time. She certainly heard him now and blinked at him, shocked.
That shock seemed to work in his favour, and she cast her gaze to the ground before slowly turning on the spot, dropping the shirt she’d held so it fell back to the ground.
His heart dropped into his stomach with horror.
Two runes were carved into the skin between her shoulder blades, created of harsh lines that still looked like open wounds, the skin a harsh red around the cuts.
Silas let out an unsteady breath.
“Why…” he breathed, the only word he could form as he stared at the monstrosity on her back.
Then his academic brain translated the runes, and it became worse.
The top rune was a mark for intellect.
The rune beneath was for…
Obedience.
His next breath hissed in through his teeth, understanding slamming into him.
Silas gripped her arm and turned her around until she faced him. He searched across her face, but her eyes were low, lashes fluttering as she breathed unevenly.
“Did someone do this to you?”
Amelia shuddered beneath his touch but stayed silent, refusing to look at him.
He set his jaw. Someone had forced those runes into her skin, an act of utter abomination.
Visions of how she would flinch when bending, or her random grimaces flashed into his mind, and he understood with a sick clarity. She had been in pain, all this time. Runes never healed when used on a person, and that was one of the reasons the practice had been outlawed hundreds of years ago.
The conversation around a campfire in the middle of the Rift floated back to him. Silas had seen her discomfort over the words spoken about the Gemino tribe runing their people, but he would never have guessed thatthiswas the reason behind it.
His hand tightened on the bare skin of her arm.
“Who did this?”
She raised her eyes then, her bottom lip trembling. “The runes haven’t been activated…not for a long time,” Amelia said shakily. “I swear, not for ten years. Definitely not since we’ve ever worked together. They’ve never helped with my research in the time we’ve worked together.”
Silas’ brows drew tight. “What?”
“I swear…” she whispered again.
His face slackened, piecing together what she was trying to say.
Silas breathed out incredulously. “Do you think I care about whether the runes aided in your intelligence? Do you honestly believe that’s what I care about in this moment?”
Something passed over her face, something like helplessness mixed with confusion.
“Don’t you?” she asked, a tremble rocking her slight frame.
Silas let her go and stepped away, giving her space as he shook his head.
“We’ve had our moments, Winslow,” Silas said, “but I’d hoped you wouldn’t actually think me a monster.”
He could see her mind working as she considered. Her mouth opened, then closed, before she turned away, facing the mirror once again. She reached for a small jar filled with a thick-looking clear paste. Amelia faced him, gesturing at the jar.
“Halpert has known about the runes my whole life, I mean…since I got them,” Amelia added hastily when Silas’ face morphed into rage. “He helped me develop this salve. He would need to aid in applying it every few days. Without it, the scars become very painful and itchy…they’ll never heal completely, but the salve helps.”
