Page 23 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

‘As far as public rejection goes, I wouldn’t take that personally,’ mused Caruso, coming to stand beside him. ‘If she sits anywhere near Nadia, she’ll get her throat slit before we reach the next village.’

Nadia rolled her eyes, prodding him towards the second carriage. ‘You know I don’t kill before my second coffee of the day. You two can have the pleasure of my company if you promise to shut your mouths until I drink it.’

‘Only if you play cards with me. I haven’t fleeced you in months,’ said Caruso.

They bickered their way into the second carriage.

Their retinue of soldiers, which included a red-haired woman with a stern face, called Maelle, a stockier, bald soldier called Bram, whose nose Ransom had rearranged last night, a beanpole with a broom-handle moustache called Ribauld and a ghostly pale blond called Kasper, were collectively wise enough to leave the Daggers to their own carriage and made instead for the third coach.

The sentries saw them off, but Ransom’s eyes were on the white-stone balcony above, where the king himself stood watching, his fists curled tight around the balustrade like he could hold onto his palace – and all that inherited power – through sheer will alone.

It occurred to him that the future of Valterre as they knew it now rested squarely on their shoulders.

The coming weeks would decide what kind of kingdom would emerge from this brewing uprising.

A land of dangerous untried saints or one that continued to kneel under the boot of a self-concerned king.

The thought was oddly… wearying . Or perhaps it was the lack of sleep from a night spent traipsing through the king’s dungeons, trying to save the life of a woman he was not supposed to care about.

Caruso parted his hands, flicking an entire deck of cards between them. ‘Twenty-one. You want in?’

‘I’ll take your money later.’ Ransom kicked his feet up on the opposite bench and slid down in his seat, tucking his chin into the collar of his coat. ‘Wake me when it’s time for lunch.’

Ransom woke to the sound of screaming. He was up like a shot and out of the carriage before he could process where he even was.

One blink revealed the sun, ripe and golden in a cloudless sky.

It must have been an hour or so after noon.

Another blink revealed a bustling market square, packed with wooden stalls draped in colourful banners.

That scream came again.

He whirled, catching sight of Nadia and Caruso standing among a gathering crowd of onlookers. They were both laughing, glued to the senseless brawl unfolding right in front of them. Likely a pair of violent, drunken—

Hell’s teeth .

Through a break in the crowd, Ransom spied a familiar blonde hair braid.

Seraphine was scrapping with one of the king’s soldiers.

Or, more accurately, she was swinging from Ribauld’s neck.

The soldier was half crouched over the body of…

well, shit. Was that the Shadowsmith sprawled out in the square?

Ribauld had his sword drawn, the point dangerously close to Versini’s neck. Versini had gone completely still.

Good. Easy does it .

Seraphine didn’t quite get the idea. She was pummelling Ribauld from behind, yelling at him to drop his sword.

Stifling a curse, Ransom lunged, pushing through a sea of shoulders only to stumble into a sudden flare of blinding bright.

Another scream ripped through the square.

This one belonged to Ribauld. Ransom blinked the floating black spots from his vision to find the soldier rolling around on the ground, holding his left ear.

Seraphine was scrabbling away from him. The market crowd broke into startled cries, the spectators drawing back as the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Another glimpse at the soldier’s ear revealed the lobe had been seared clean off, the skin on his cheek bubbling into angry blisters.

Unease snaked through Ransom.

The Shadowsmith paled as he got to his feet.

‘What the hell was that?’ said Caruso, stalking forward.

Nadia pulled him back by his collar. ‘Don’t go near her.’

The rest of the crowd was watching the writhing soldier, trying to figure out where the rogue fire had sprung from.

Ransom was watching Sera.

She was crouched on the edge of the circle, trying to slow her ratcheting breath. Her eyes burned bright gold. She blinked and the glow winked out, but not fast enough.

Ransom made his way towards her.

Nadia slid in front of him. ‘Don’t you dare touch her.’

‘Someone has to get her out of here.’

‘That was no vial of Lightfire,’ she said in a low voice. ‘That was her .’

‘The more reason to get her away from all these people,’ he said pointedly.

The other soldiers were already descending on Seraphine. By the time Ransom reached her, they were binding her wrists.

‘Leave her to me.’

‘She struck a royal guard,’ hissed Maelle. ‘Can’t let that go unpunished.’

Seraphine instinctively covered her head. ‘He started it!’ she spat from the cradle of her arms. ‘He went for Theo! I was only trying to get him off.’

‘You lit one of them firecrackers!’ accused Kasper. ‘Shoved it in Ribauld’s ear!’

‘Did not!’

‘It hardly burned itself off!’ shouted Bram. ‘Bloody Flames. Knew you were trouble from the off.’

With a sharp sigh, Ransom withdrew a jar of Shade from his pocket. One mouthful and every shadow in the square was his to command. He pulled them from the ground, like slithering vipers.

The crowd scattered in terror.

‘Subtle,’ remarked Caruso.

The soldiers jerked their heads up, their chins quivering at the sight of all that encroaching darkness. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Ransom cocked his head in a lazy threat. ‘Like I said, I’ll take it from here.’

Sera peered up at him from her spot on the ground, the only one among them who wasn’t remotely afraid of the shadows that now moved across his skin.

Nor the ones that pooled like ink at his feet.

It’s not like they could hurt her, thanks to the strange fire in her blood.

That much was more than clear to him now.

He had been wondering when he would get a glimpse of it again.

‘Send Ribauld back to the barracks,’ he said. ‘He can’t travel any further without treatment. As for the rest of us, let’s get back on the road before we end up in the local penny papers.’

Hardly an auspicious start to their journey.

Versini shoved his way into their huddle. ‘This whole thing was Ribauld’s fault.’ The soldier, who had finally staggered to his feet, moaned weakly in protest. ‘I slipped away to send a missive back to Halbracht, and he jumped me. Thought I was doing a runner.’

‘Save the monologue, Versini,’ said Ransom in a bored voice. ‘Can you play cards?’

‘What?’

‘Cards. Twenty-one. Saint or sinner. Go fish. Can you play?’

Narrowing his eyes, he said, ‘Obviously.’

‘Good.’ Ransom called to Caruso. ‘Versini and I are going to swap places for the next leg. Reckons himself a card shark. Feel free to take all the coin he’s made trying to put us out of business.’

Caruso’s teeth gleamed. ‘Finally. New blood.’

‘I’m getting snacks first,’ said Nadia, heading across the now deserted square. ‘I need a bucket of caramel fudge to take the edge off this shitshow.’

Ransom was about to help Seraphine to her feet when Versini jostled in front of him. They bent their heads together, exchanging a short, furious conversation on their way back to the carriages.

‘ Promise me ,’ said the Shadowsmith, pulling away.

‘I know,’ she said, shooing him.

She marched towards the first carriage, tossing a challenging look over her shoulder. ‘I want to play cards too, Dagger.’

‘You’ll have to wait,’ said Ransom, stalking after her. ‘You and I are going to play a different game, spitfire.’

Her brows shot up. ‘What kind of game?’

‘Truth or dare.’