Page 38 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)
Ransom was wavering. Not just about the king’s quest but the changing of the kingdom and his own place within it.
Sure, they had argued on the roof, but he had listened to her too.
In sharing her truth – her fears about what they were about to do – Sera had rattled his resolve.
Pricked a pin in that careful ruthless facade.
But as they absconded from the Bellflower in the middle of the night, leaving a dead soldier in their wake, she sensed the Dagger’s will harden again.
Time was running out, every mile bringing them one step closer to the People’s Saint.
Closer to the answers she had so desperately been seeking about herself, and the fear that Ransom might swipe them all away before she could get through to him.
On the way out of Ornaux, the carriage almost crashed three times. Not bad considering Caruso and Nadia, who had volunteered as temporary coachmen, were hopelessly drunk. And had no idea how to drive.
‘At least the horses are sober,’ said Theo, digging his hands into the leather bench as they swerved their way into the wilds beyond.
The town’s flickering lights soon faded into the distance, leaving the silvery moon alone to guide them.
In the darkness, all the trees looked like skeletons, creaking in the midnight breeze.
Val, who had stuck her face out of the window to vomit, shrieked when a branch slapped her in the forehead. ‘VEER LEFT, YOU FOOLS! WE’RE IN THE DAMN TREES!’
Ransom, who was holding on to the back of her shirt in case she tumbled out, released her as she slumped back onto the bench beside him. Val was sitting opposite Theo, while Ransom was sitting directly across from Sera. Not for the first time that night, they locked eyes.
What she wouldn’t give to be back on the roof of the Bellflower, where, for a moonlit moment, everything between them had been so perfectly, achingly simple.
Nothing but dreams and desire. Even now, she felt the shadow of his broad callused hands sliding up her back, his hot mouth against her neck, his throaty words in her ear, promising more. Promising everything .
By the way his throat bobbed now, she imagined he was thinking about the same thing.
Take me back .
And leave me there .
‘Let me see the welt.’ Theo leaned across the carriage, tilting Val’s face towards him. ‘It’s not too bad. It’ll fade in a few days.’
‘Stupid tree,’ she mumbled.
‘Tell Caruso about it next time we pull over,’ said Ransom. ‘Maybe he’ll go back and murder the elm for you.’
Theo shot him a blistering glare.
Smirking now, Ransom closed his eyes. ‘Relax, Versini. It was a joke.’
‘Someone died tonight,’ Val reminded him. ‘A terrible brute of a man. But… still.’
‘I’m sure Bram’s gold watch will cheer you up.’
‘Oh, whatever.’
Finally, a welcome stretch of silence.
Sera had almost nodded off when Theo piped up. ‘It was actually a birch tree.’
‘What?’ chorused Val and Sera.
‘It was a birch, not an elm,’ he said, stretching his legs out. ‘But how would a Tunnel Rat know that? I doubt they have trees in the flaming pits of hell.’
Ransom’s eyes flew open. ‘Well, you would know, Versini. Your ancestors are running it.’
‘ All saints , would you two idiots shut up?’ snapped Val. ‘If you insist on having a pissing contest, then get out and walk.’ No sooner had she said it then the carriage vaulted over a ditch, tossing them all head-first into the roof.
Theo slammed his fist against the ceiling. ‘Pull over before you kill us all!’
Caruso and Nadia ignored him, crowing with laughter as they urged the horses onwards, into the darkening night. Sera gripped the bench, holding on for dear life. Defeated, Theo sat back, exhaling through his nose. ‘Silver lining. At least our concussions will lull us to sleep.’
‘ Not funny,’ said Val.
But he was already out cold.
They neared Marvale as the sun was coming up.
Thanks to the worries churning in her stomach, Sera was already wide awake.
She was keen to finish her conversation with Ransom about the prince and the saints, but the Dagger was still fast asleep.
Making a crack in the curtains, she pressed her face to the carriage window, inhaling a lungful of floral-scented air.
Marvale glimmered in the distance. In the early dawn light, a reddish hue lingered over the village.
The buildings were made from the region’s unique red sandstone.
Red-brick chimneys dotted a landscape of neat, pointed roofs, piping smoke into the blushing sky.
At the far end of village, perched along the distant hills, stood the famed red mills, a unique cluster of taverns and dance halls that hosted all manner of merriment from dusk until dawn and back to dusk again.
As the stories went, so long as the windmills were turning, there was fun to be made and opportunity to be seized.
At a sharp gasp from behind her, Sera turned in her seat. Ransom jerked awake. He was breathing too fast, his unseeing eyes wide with horror. His fists were clenched on his lap, his body jerking with half-sleep. His nightmare still had its claws in him.
Sera laid a gentle hand on his knee. ‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘Good morning.’
Ransom blinked, quickly clearing the shadows behind his eyes. ‘Hey,’ he croaked. He raked a hand through his hair, settling the unruly strands. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Well. That was the idea.’
She could tell by his frown he hadn’t meant to. Perhaps he was afraid of the nightmares, or, more likely, what the others in the carriage might make of them.
Val woke with a groan, complaining about the crick in her neck. Theo was the last to rouse, indulging in a sprawling yawn as he came to.
Sera drew back the drapes. ‘We’re nearly there.’
They crowded the windows, peering out at their destination.
Just up ahead, the birthplace of Saint Oriel glittered like a living, breathing jewel.
Sera’s heart hitched – then stuttered in her chest. Her gaze had fallen from the red mills to the street ahead, to where a vaulted stone archway marked the entrance to Marvale. In the middle, etched in stone, were the words,
Welcome to the birthplace of Oriel Beauregard,
Blessed Saint of Destiny
On either side, dead nightguards hung from their polished bootstraps.
‘ All hell ,’ hissed Theo.
‘Look at the flags,’ whispered Val, quailing at the sight. ‘They’re different too.’
With great effort, Sera tore her gaze away from the corpses and settled it on the flags billowing atop the arch.
The customary crest of Valterre – a rose crossed with two swords – had been altered.
Gone were the steel swords of the Rayere dynasty.
There was only the rose now, the stark crimson symbol gilded by the rising sun.
Her thoughts turned to Fontaine’s rose, the card burning a hole in her back pocket.
No one spoke as they drew closer, and though the carriage slowed as Nadia and Caruso noticed the same gruesome sight, it didn’t trundle to a stop. They pushed forward, ducking as they passed under the arch.
The bodies swayed next to Sera’s window, close enough to see that their eyes had been gouged out, their slackened mouths carved into blood-tinged smiles.
Stifling a whimper, she drew back into the carriage, finding Val’s hand.
At the other window, Ransom’s face was like stone. ‘This is your People’s Saint,’ he said, in a cold, cold voice. ‘Is he truly better than your king?’
She looked away, doubt eating away at that quiet hope inside her.