Page 29 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

Returning to his search, Theo unfurled another map. A double spread of Valterre marred with several black crosses. He spread it against the wall.

‘He’s marked all the towers in the kingdom.’ Sera recalled Fontaine’s fevered murmurings . The storm will choose new saints to crown, where three stone towers crumble down . ‘He must have known the storm would change everything. He was probably waiting for it his whole life.’

‘Waiting for power,’ said Nadia. ‘And now he’s using it to tear the kingdom apart.’

Maybe he has a good reason. A better vision .

She kept those mutinous thoughts to herself. But Nadia rounded on her, like she could hear them. ‘What about you? What magic did you wrench from that storm?’

‘I didn’t take anything,’ said Sera, stiffening.

At least not on purpose.

‘More lies from our own resident saint,’ Nadia spat. ‘Did you really think I wouldn’t notice what you did to Ribauld back at the market? That I wouldn’t put two and two together after the golden handprint you scoured into Lark’s chest?’

‘Nadia,’ warned Ransom. ‘Keep your voice down.’

‘Why?’ she challenged. ‘It’s not like she doesn’t know what she is.’

‘It’s complicated.’ Theo’s eyes darted to the entryway, like he was afraid a rogue scribe might be listening in. ‘Now is not the time or place to get into it.’

Nadia folded her arms. ‘When were you planning on dealing with this conflict of interest?’ she challenged, without bothering to keep her voice low. ‘Before or after we murder the other living saints of Valterre? It seems to me that you and Andreas are cut from the same cloth.’

Sera kept her face blank, even as her heart smashed against her ribcage.

Nadia stepped in close, her dark eyes flashing. ‘Tell us, Seraphine. Are you planning to kill the prince, or work with him against the king? Against us ?’

‘Back off, Nadia,’ said Theo through his teeth.

‘I don’t know anything about Prince Andreas,’ said Sera carefully. ‘I didn’t even know he existed until a few days ago.’

There. An easy truth. Something she could sell.

Nadia curled her lip. Not buying it.

Ransom had gone silent, his gaze on Seraphine’s face, like he was searching for the same betrayal that seemed so apparent to Nadia.

‘I don’t know anything about Andreas,’ Sera repeated, this time with bite. ‘I have no idea what he’s capable of.’

‘Just like we don’t know what you’re capable of,’ Nadia shot back.

‘That sounds a lot like your problem.’

‘Not if we kill you too, saint .’

Sera’s cheeks were prickling, her magic rearing up at the threat.

She squeezed her hands into fists. Not now .

Too late. She felt her eyes flash, glimpsed the golden glint in the reflection of Nadia’s pupils as they widened.

Nadia canted her head, her lip curling. ‘Exactly what kind of saint are you?’

Fontaine’s tarot cards flashed through Sera’s mind: Stone Maiden, Necromancer, Silver-tongue .

She wanted to scream, I don’t know!

‘A confused one,’ said Ransom, with dawning realization.

‘Let her talk,’ said Nadia without looking at him. ‘What exactly can you do?’

Sera sensed what this was really about. Or rather, who . ‘Why don’t I save us all this mindless interrogation. I’ll tell you what I don’t do,’ she said, slowly, even viciously. ‘I don’t steal bodies out of graves.’

Nostrils flaring, Nadia took a step closer. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’

‘Because you have deep-rooted trust issues?’

Too far. Too much. Nadia was angry, still grieving. Sera was on the back foot, and pissed .

The tension was so thick it was clouding her head. Sera needed to get out of this room and breathe.

But Nadia blocked the doorway. Her eyes were wild now, her breath hitching. ‘It wasn’t enough that you killed him, you had to wrench his body from the earth, too.’

Sera narrowed her eyes, the last of her patience evaporating. ‘Drop it, before you really start to piss me off. Whatever happened to Lark’s body has nothing to do with me. Maybe you should have kept a better eye on it.’

Nadia jerked like she had been slapped. ‘How dare you!’

Sera would have regretted those words if her blood wasn’t boiling. A part of her knew she should slow down, take a breath – and a walk – but her tongue was loose and that fire inside her was hot, so she said, through her teeth, ‘I’ll do whatever the hell I like. You can’t stop me, Dagger.’

Nadia pounced, fast and hard. Sera was on the floor, half winded, before anyone in the room even registered the hit.

Nadia pinned her there with her knees. ‘Say that again,’ she hissed, jamming the side of her face into the wooden boards. ‘I dare you.’

Sera bucked madly. ‘Get. Off. Me!’

‘Admit what you did! Admit what you took from me!’

‘Go to hell!’ Sera slammed her knee into Nadia’s back.

It crunched . Fear and rage entangled in her chest, stoking her magic like a poker.

That roiling heat raced through her, until she felt it in her palms. Power consumed her, and this time, she let it.

Now the Dagger would pay. She swung, reaching for the end of Nadia’s ponytail.

‘SERA, NO!’ yelled Theo.

Sera’s fingers met with thin air as Nadia was yanked off her. Ransom swung her behind him. She was still spitting when Theo moved in to restrain her.

Sera collapsed to the ground, trying to catch her breath.

Ransom peered down at her, horror-stricken. ‘What the fuck was that?’

‘Self-defence,’ huffed Sera, but her voice was small.

She was trembling now, her magic rushing out of her as quickly as it had reared its head.

She got to her feet, furiously scrubbing the tears that leaked from her eyes.

A moment ago, she had felt feral. Dangerous .

Now she felt like a cornered mouse, frightened of the dragon that lived inside her.

The monster that she had almost unleashed on Nadia. All but proving her point.

‘I’m not scared of you,’ said Nadia, from behind the wall of Theo’s body. ‘Try that again and I’ll jam my heel through your skull.’

Before Sera could reply, Ransom spun her around, promptly marching her out of the alcove.

She fought against his hold, but his hands on her shoulders were a vice, steering her through the towering stacks. His voice was low and hard in her ear. ‘If I’m not allowed to kill innocent scholars with my Shade, you’re not allowed to scald my second-in-command.’

‘What are you doing?’ she said, swatting at him.

‘Putting you on ice, little firecracker.’

The gall! She jerked her head back, aiming for his nose.

He chuckled, easily avoiding the blow.

She continued her weakening protests.

‘Easy, spitfire,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s not do a murder.’

‘She started it!’

‘By all means, command the moral high ground, like I didn’t just watch you try to burn her scalp off.’

‘I was going for her ponytail!’

‘Nadia would tell you that’s just as grievous.’

No shit .

He swung her into an abandoned alcove at the end of the row. This one was smaller and darker than the one they had come from, with barely enough room for a desk. Folding her arms, she slumped against it. Still heaving. Seething .

‘Should we do some breathing exercises?’

She had to crane her neck to glower at him. ‘You must have a death wish.’

‘Something like that,’ he said, flashing his teeth.

‘Ugh.’ She flung a paperweight at him. It bounced off his hard chest. He didn’t even flinch, his hazel eyes warming like he found it endearing.

In their tiny alcove his scent surrounded her, that heady rush of woodsmoke and sage snatching at the edges of her anger, making her damn knees weak.

As if sensing she was about to sag, he picked her up, lifting her easily onto the desk.

‘Feel better?’ he said, bracing his hands on either side of her. Caging her in. ‘Or would you like to throw that ink pot at me too?’

‘I’m seriously considering it,’ she mumbled.

‘Just… take a breath.’

She didn’t want to breathe too deeply or think too hard about what had just happened.

The truth was, she felt… wretched. Embarrassed by what had transpired with Nadia, terrified of what she’d almost done in the mist of her own rage.

And then there was Ransom’s nearness, wreaking havoc on her heartbeat.

It was the heat of him, the slow tilt of his head and the curve of his lips as he watched her.

He moved closer and, saints help her, she spread her legs, allowing him to stand between them.

‘I’ve just figured you out, spitfire.’

Arching a brow, she looked up at him. His eyes were on her lips.

‘You can’t tell Nadia what kind of saint you are, can you?’

‘Maybe I don’t want to.’

‘Maybe you don’t know.’ He hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her head back. ‘Maybe that terrifies you.’

Magic roared through her blood, that thread in her chest going taut.

He smiled, like he could feel it. ‘Tell me I’m right.’

She wrestled for control of her own body. ‘You’re unprofessional.’

‘Only a little,’ he said, soft and low. At the warmth of his breath against her lips, her lids fell to half mast. All thought eddied away, the warning shouts in her head growing fainter, until it was just the two of them, teetering on the edge of that bonfire of lust. She twisted her hands in his collar, yanking him closer.

‘And it’s none of your business,’ she said, through her teeth.

‘I’m a saint-killer,’ he said, in that same seductive rumble. ‘I’m afraid it’s entirely my business.’

How could one man make murder sound so damn appealing? She really was losing her mind. Her heart thundered madly, magic crackling on her lips.

Brushing his thumb there, he murmured, ‘Fascinating.’

Thwack!

Ransom reared backwards, his hand flying to the back of his head. ‘What the fuck?’

Caruso was standing in the narrow doorway. He was cradling the black cat, and by the looks of things, had just fired a thesaurus at Ransom’s head. ‘What’s going on in here?’

‘Nothing.’ Sera raked her hands through her hair, hastily settling the unruly strands…

trying to hide the disappointment guttering through her.

Not that hurling herself at the Head of the Daggers would have made for a particularly good decision, given she was planning on betraying him – and their entire mission – fairly soon, but in that charged moment, with his lips so close to hers, his heart thundering just a few inches away, it had felt like the right move.

The only move. She could have sworn her magic had wanted it just as badly.

‘This’d better be important,’ snapped Ransom.

‘The provost is back. I think we’ve officially outstayed our welcome.’

Sera slid off the desk. ‘Good. We’re done anyway.’

‘Uh-huh,’ drawled Caruso, languidly petting the cat in his arms.

They returned to the others. Theo was talking to the provost, probably trying to smooth over the scene they just created down here. Nadia was keeping her distance, still stewing somewhere in the stacks. Ransom went to speak to her, while Sera drifted towards Theo.

‘Nothing of much use in here, I’m afraid…’ Theo was saying. ‘Unless you count his fevered obsession with the saints.’

‘That’s all Andreas was in the end.’ The provost rubbed his forehead as he looked into the alcove, his gaze flitting over all those ledgers and loose papers.

‘We shared a common interest in Saint Oriel’s prophecies, though I admit I did not expect the Second Coming to begin quite this soon.

Or even in my lifetime. Many of us here at the Appoline have been waiting for it.

’ His brow furrowed as he looked away. ‘Some more urgently than others.’

An ominous feeling came over Sera, raising the hairs on her arms.

‘Are you unhappy now that it’s finally here?’ she said, reading the strain on the provost’s face.

He looked between them, weighing his words.

Perhaps it was the absence of the Daggers, who were out of earshot, or the earnest curiosity on their faces, that made him relent.

‘My studies lead me to believe this new Age of Saints will not be like the last one. This time, fate will play a different hand. Power will be given, and power will be taken. Some saints will fall into their destiny, while others will chase it.’

‘Do you mean that some will be more worthy than others?’ said Theo, glancing at Sera.

What was that shadowed look in his eyes just now?

Was he thinking the same thing that she was – that she was some kind of divine accident, a saint unworthy of the power in her veins?

Was that why her magic refused to listen to her?

‘Who can know for sure? The kingdom is teetering on the cusp of this new age. We are at the beginning of change, not the outcome of it. We must wait for the dice to settle.’ The provost passed a hand over his beard, tugging at the wiry strands.

‘Although there is one thing I am sure of. There is a difference between power and goodness. One does not beget the other.’

‘Perhaps it depends on the gift,’ reasoned Theo. He was careful not to look at Sera now, as though afraid even a glance would cast her in a glow of sudden suspicion. ‘Is there a way to know what powers will present themselves in this new Age of Saints?’

‘Not so,’ said the provost, who had plainly considered it at great length.

‘I believe the gifts will act on the person as they did during the first age. We know that Alisa, Saint of the sick, was a nurse before the storm struck. Her gift of healing seemed to be the most natural outcome. Maurius had been a sailor, so he knew the ways of the wind long before his magic enabled him to corral it. And Caddel was a venerated soldier in the royal army before his true prowess in war manifested. Calvin grew up with a mother who practised seances, so to commune with the dead was no great stretch for him. And Saint Oriel, of course, was prone to daydreaming, even as a child… There is no telling how precisely power will manifest before the magic itself settles. It is the alchemy of the soul and the divine that decides it. Just as before.’

Sera’s breath was coming sharp and fast, curiosity piling a hundred more questions on her tongue.

About the saints of old, and the ones still to come.

Fontaine’s tarot cards were like lead in her pocket.

A part of her wanted to draw them out and wave them in the provost’s face, beg him to examine them just as closely, to tell her what she had become in that storm – or who she was supposed to be – but the Daggers were coming their way, clearly growing impatient.

So, too, was the provost. He seemed to snap back into himself, stepping away from their conversation and stiffening his shoulders. ‘I believe your search is at an end,’ he announced to all of them. ‘I’ll show you out.’