Page 24 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ said the Dagger, seating himself across from her. ‘But do try not to set anything on fire.’

She glared at him. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘I live to tempt you, spitfire.’

So he had chosen flirting. Fine. It was better than an interrogation. Sera didn’t know how to explain what had just happened in the square. Only that her anger had got the better of her . Again .

Think less , Fontaine had advised her.

This was exactly what happened when Sera surrendered all rational thought for raw feeling.

That door inside her flew open and all that magic came barrelling out, white hot and lethal.

The sight of Ribauld whaling on Theo had kindled a quick and violent panic that had made thinking impossible.

Before she knew it, she was swinging from him like a spider monkey.

When the heat rushed her, she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t wrench herself away quick enough.

Still, she didn’t fully regret it. Theo’s neck had been inches from Ribauld’s sword and if her recent kidnapping had taught her anything, it was how impulsive the king’s soldiers were.

Of course Ransom had witnessed the whole thing.

He watched her intently now, his silver eyes gleaming in the dimness.

He seemed even taller in here, those broad shoulders commanding half the carriage bench.

Shadows darted across his olive skin as the rest of his Shade leisurely worked its way through him.

Head canted as he studied her, he absently licked the scar on his bottom lip, and, Saints help her, it made her blood heat.

Here he sat like a dark god looming over his prey.

With the curtains drawn and the wheels moving swiftly beneath them, the carriage felt too small, the air between them too close.

Under her finely woven cardigan – a parting gift from the royal house of Rayere – Sera’s skin grew clammy.

She raked the stray strands back from her face, resisting the urge to fan herself.

‘Too hot, Seraphine?’

‘Usually.’

‘Do you often catch fire?’

She pressed her lips together, diverting her gaze to the threading on her sleeve.

Don’t say a word about your magic , Theo had warned her back at the marketplace . He works for the king. He’ll only use it against you .

The silence lingered, the Dagger’s gaze like a brand on her forehead.

Clearing her throat, she gestured to the shadows wreathing his shoulders. ‘Can you rein those in?’

‘Bothering you, are they?’

‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘They just really wash you out.’

‘Good thing I’m not vain.’

Just hideously observant. Which, frankly, was worse. She did not want to have this conversation with Ransom, but she didn’t know how to avoid it either.

‘A copper for your thoughts, spitfire.’

She tapped her chin. ‘Do you think Nadia will share her fudge with me if I ask nicely?’

‘Only if she thought you’d choke on it.’

Sighing, she tipped her head back to the ceiling. She hoped Theo was holding his own with the other Daggers.

Ransom hinged forward, narrowing the space between them. He was too close now, the scent of woodsmoke and sage making her cheeks prickle. His voice was soft and lethal. ‘What happened back at the marketplace, Seraphine?’

She flattened herself against the bench, unnerved by the ravenous look on his face.

It was as though the Shade was speaking for him.

This beast that moved under his skin. ‘That soldier got lairy with Theo. Started flinging threats and swinging his sword about. So I threw myself at him and then he got… a little…’ She rolled her hand.

‘Earless?’

‘I was going to say irreparably scalded.’

‘I love it when you talk dirty.’

She resisted the urge to kick him.

‘Shall we get to our game, then?’ Shadows wreathed his fingers, kissing that gaudy ring that shone just as brightly as his eyes. A stark reminder of what he had become these past few months: her father’s successor, a man she had despised above all others. A man whose memory haunted her, even now.

Determined to hold her own, she said, ‘Assassins first.’

‘Truth or dare, Seraphine.’

Why did that question feel more deadly than the shadows swirling around them?

‘Dare,’ she said.

‘I dare you to tell me the truth about your magic.’

She snorted. ‘Nice try, Dagger.’

‘All right, we’ll warm up to it,’ he said, lazily. ‘I dare you to take off that cardigan.’

She arched a brow. ‘ Seriously? ’

‘For your own comfort.’ When she didn’t immediately rip her cardigan off and fling it at him, he said, ‘Your cheeks are burning up. So either it’s hot in here, or you’re hot for me.’

Right on both counts. She played it off, lest his ego swallow up the rest of the space in here. With an exaggerated eye-roll, she shrugged her sweater off. Beneath it, she wore a cream chemise. The breeze kissed her collarbones, wrenching a sigh from her.

She heard him swallow.

‘Truth or dare, Dagger?’

‘Truth.’

Seraphine’s mind went… blank. Utterly, completely. It was the way he was looking at her, with that unnerving intensity… the sudden simmering weight of expectation. Too much pressure. She went for something light. ‘Did you miss me?’

‘Wretchedly,’ he said at once.

She blinked. Well…

‘Did you miss me, spitfire?’

‘Too busy trying to dismantle your life’s work,’ she lied. ‘And before you ask, I choose dare again.’

Leaning back now, he stroked his jaw. ‘I dare you to say something nice about me.’

Another eye-roll. ‘You’re tall.’

He gave her a flat look. ‘That’s a fact.’

‘My turn,’ she chirped. ‘Truth or dare?’

Conceding, he said, ‘Truth.’

Sera frowned. ‘Truth again .’

‘I’m afraid if you want to take my clothes off, you’ll have to do it yourself.’

She flung a cushion at him, inwardly delighting when it hit him in the face.

He’d let her do it, of course. Meditating for a moment on her next question – and wanting to make it count – she sat forward, close enough to reach through the pool of shadows between them and trace the dark whorls on his hands if she wanted to.

Perhaps too softly, she asked, ‘Why have you done this to yourself all over again, Ransom?’

His face tightened. ‘Can you be more specific?’

Fine, then. ‘I’m talking about all the mindless killing. You know, the continued wilful wrecking of your one eternal soul. All that Shade is eating away at you. Even now, I can sense it like a beast under your skin.’

And it frightens me .

He gave a rueful smile, the playful glint in his eyes guttering out. ‘Because this is what I’m good for, Seraphine.’

‘Give me a better answer. One I might actually believe.’

‘All right,’ he said, with a bite. ‘I did it to forget you, and the dream of another life.’

The one they had promised each other before Lark died and the Aurore fell.

It felt like a lie – or perhaps not the whole truth. But why did it sting so badly? ‘And how did that work out for you?’

‘It was going well until you started to ransack my trade. It’s hard to ignore a horsefly constantly buzzing around my head.’

‘What did you expect me to do, Ransom? Toss the recipe for Lightfire in the Verne and forget about it? Let the city continue to cower under my father’s legacy?’

His eyes flashed. ‘I expected you to run , Seraphine.’

‘I did run!’ she snapped.

You made me run! You nearly tore down a damn cathedral!

‘But you didn’t hide,’ he said, his voice climbing to match hers. Gone was the ease of their game, and here was the frustration and resentment they had been harbouring towards each other; broken promises, diverging destinies and the barb of dangerous lingering feelings.

And all that Shade was still feasting on his humanity, the tender parts that made him Bastian.

Shadows pooled as his composure shattered, crawling up the sides of the carriage and stealing the last of the window light.

Here was the real truth – his anger, as plain as the darkness that swaddled them.

‘You made a spectacle of yourself everywhere you went,’ he said through his teeth.

‘There isn’t a smuggler in Valterre who hasn’t heard of you.

The ones you didn’t manage to lure back to Halbracht are out to get you for fucking with their livelihoods, and that’s to say nothing of the gang lords up and down this kingdom who have heard about that first shipment of Lightfire.

Do you have any idea how many people have come to me about you these last few months?

How many of my regulars have put a price on your pretty little head? ’

‘Are we including your Second in this figure?’

‘Nadia would kill you for free.’

Of course Sera knew her Order would end up pissing people off.

She was upending the most prolific trade in Fantome, casting a flame into its dark underbelly and flushing out all who thrived there.

She just hadn’t imagined it would coincide with a city in revolt, or that there’d be quite so many active bounties on her head.

That Ransom Hale would be the sole arbiter of her fate.

It occurred to her that he was just one quick kill away from being a very rich man.

She raised her chin. ‘Why drag this out any longer? Here’s your free shot.’

‘That would be counterintuitive.’

‘Why?’

He threw her a contemptuous look. ‘Because I’m the one protecting you,’ he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘I’ve been protecting you for months . I’m still protecting you.

’ He held up his stained hands, turning them from front to back.

Even his palms were riddled. At her continued silence, he ripped the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing the shadow-marks there.

They looked deep, and painful, as bad as the ones on his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves to show those too.

Marked, all of him. Damned, every bit of him.

Much worse than before – so much worse. Saints above , how was there any humanity left in him at all?