Page 41 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

In the low-lit velveteen lounge of the Paramour Inn, Ransom paced back and forth.

The others sat around a bar table, watching him, while Val reclined on a tasselled chaise longue.

It was too risky to return to the graveyard in pursuit of the Necromancer.

And besides, what was there to gain, beyond a conflict they were ill prepared for?

For now, their focus was squarely on Prince Andreas.

The hour of their meeting was close at hand.

‘It seems when he’s not travelling the countryside rallying rebels to his cause or breaking into the king’s prisons to add to his burgeoning army, the prince holds court at the Rose Garden up at the red mills,’ Ransom was saying.

Hope sparked in Sera’s chest.

‘Did you glean anything else?’ Theo asked.

Ransom stopped pacing. ‘Is that not enough for you, Versini? While you were off buying a year’s worth of feathers, we were tracking down our actual mark.’

‘Don’t be so ungrateful,’ snapped Val. ‘You haven’t even seen the feathers yet. And we got top hats.’

‘I’m not wearing a top hat,’ said Ransom.

‘You will if you plan on fitting in at the Rose Garden tonight. The goal is to be inconspicuous. Which in Marvale, means the exact opposite.’

‘Inconspicuousness is what we do,’ said Ransom. ‘It’s who we are.’

‘Not when the dress code is Decadent Delight ,’ said Val. ‘And before you bitch about it, just know you’ll be expected to wear tails, too. And flashy shoes.’

Caruso barked a laugh.

Val jabbed her finger at him. ‘That goes for you too, brute.’

‘Outfits aside, we’re forgetting one crucial point,’ said Nadia. ‘Since Andreas is a saint, our Shade will be useless against him. If things go the way they did in that graveyard, we’re going to need weapons.’

Val nodded at Caruso. ‘That one can snap his neck like a tree branch.’

Caruso flashed a menacing smile. ‘Thanks, kitten.’

She flung a candle at his head and he caught it without flinching.

Before Val could throw something else, Sera rose from the table. ‘Right, then. Let’s get on with it.’

‘I look like a cupcake.’ Sera surveyed herself in the mirror of their suite at the Paramour.

Bedecked in a cascading red skirt and matching laced corset, it took her a moment to recognize herself.

Her long blonde hair hung in loose curls, and Val had smudged kohl underneath her eyes, adding a touch of rouge to her lips and cheeks.

In the mirror, Val’s reflection beamed back at her. ‘I know. And now for the final touch.’

Val slung a lavender feathered scarf around her own neck, twirling for full effect.

She was dressed similarly to Sera, except her corset was violet and her skirt was black.

Her boots were high, and her hair was bouncier than Sera had ever seen it.

Somehow, she carried off the look like a seductive siren, and not a befrilled baked good that had been cursed to life.

Although Sera supposed what mattered most was not her own vanity, but that she looked like every other reveller in Marvale tonight, rather than the king’s former prisoner turned would-be assassin.

Theo, who was slicking his hair back in the adjoining bathroom, ducked around the doorframe. ‘If you want a gentleman’s opinion, you both look like a pair of haunted dolls.’

Turning to glare at him, Sera readied a taunt of her own but as usual, Theo Versini looked damn good. He was wearing a black suit with tails, with shiny, sharp-toed shoes, and a top hat tucked under his arm.

‘You look…’

‘Dashing? Suave? Eye-wateringly handsome?’

‘Expensive,’ she decided.

Val sashayed over to him and stuck a purple feather in his front pocket. ‘Perfect.’

He came to stand beside Sera in the mirror. For a moment, all three of them stood in silence, taking in their reflections.

‘We are a long way from Halbracht,’ said Sera. Yet that voice deep inside told her she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

The Daggers were waiting for them on the street outside.

It was three hours until midnight and the town had come alive.

The flowery trellis-lined streets were strewn with giggling women in full-tiered skirts and boned corsets, their necks slung with beads and feathered scarves that trailed along the cobbles.

Elsewhere, gentlemen ambled about in crooked top hats and tails, pressing their waning luck with beautiful courtesans far beyond their stations.

A constant chorus of raucous laughter rang through the vibrant streets, buoying that tenuous hope inside Sera.

She felt Ransom’s eyes on her the minute she stepped onto the street. He moved as if shoved by an invisible hand, his shadow stepping into light, until they were so close that she had to remind herself to breathe.

In the half-light, he seemed a little pained. ‘You look…’

‘Do not make fun of me,’ she warned him.

‘Like a dream,’ he said quietly.

She blinked up at him in surprise. ‘One of your nightmares, you mean?’

A smile danced along his lips. ‘Definitely not.’

She stood back to look him over. He wore no suit or tails. Just plain black trousers, black boots, and a simple double-breasted waistcoat with a silver chain, over a crisp white shirt. His dark hair was lightly tousled and he was freshly shaven.

‘I know. No top hat,’ he said, reading into her silence. ‘As Head of the Daggers, I have to retain some dignity.’

‘What about weapons?’

‘More than you can possibly imagine, spitfire.’

‘Let’s hope you won’t need them.’

He nodded, still watching her in that way that made her legs feel like jelly. He plucked a red feather from the end of her scarf and stuck it in the front pocket of his waistcoat. She was surprised by how much she liked it, how it made him look like he belonged to her.

‘Stay close to me tonight.’ His eyes took on a new intensity, glimpses of the hardened Dagger already peeking through. ‘No matter what.’

‘All right.’ Her stomach swooped. Was her corset too tight or was her heart trying to squeeze its way out? She felt her magic more keenly now, unfurling from that deep space inside her, stretching languidly like a cat. What was it about this man that made her feel so vitally present?

Val shoved between them. ‘Caruso is wearing an actual cravat ,’ she said, with a snort. ‘I didn’t think he had it in him.’

Without tearing his gaze from Sera, Ransom said, ‘He plans to strangle Andreas with it at the first sign of trouble.’

Val hummed. ‘That makes it less endearing.’

Nadia sauntered over with all the confidence of a queen. She was dressed just like Sera and Val, her gold corset laced with the same shiny black ribbon that hung from her skirts.

She swished the end of Sera’s feathered scarf. ‘You carry this off, farmgirl.’

‘I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.’

Nadia smirked. ‘Honestly, neither am I.’

Next to her, Theo fitted his top hat onto his head, then made a show of checking the pocket watch Val had swiped for him that afternoon. ‘Time to go.’

It was a short walk to the mills, the group blending in so seamlessly with the revellers that at times Sera lost sight of Val and Nadia in the thickening crowds.

But never Ransom. He stayed so close to her their hands brushed as they walked, every fleeting touch setting the ember of her magic aglow.

As Sera stepped inside the Rose Garden of Marvale, she had the uncanny sensation that she had strayed into a dream.

A grand dance hall located on the ground floor of the largest of the red mills, the Rose Garden crowned the north hills of Marvale like a glittering ruby, overlooking the night-kissed sprawl of the village.

It was already teeming. The warm night air trilled with music, the lullaby as inviting as the generous garlands that hung from the arched ceiling, casting a floral scent about the hall.

Sharply dressed waiters scurried to and fro, carrying trays of fizzing wine and brightly coloured cocktails, while dancers bedecked in feathers and elaborate headdresses sashayed through the crowd, enticing people to get up and dance with them.

There were so many people here – more laughter and dancing and kissing and drinking than she’d ever seen in her life.

And yet, the moment she stepped through those doors, her gaze fell on the prince.

Even seated at the other end of the hall, with his face upturned towards the dancers on the stage, Andreas Mondragon Rayere stuck out like a lit flame. Here was a beacon burning brighter than the spectacle around him, the North Star in a sea of midnight.

And when he turned his head suddenly, as though some innate force inside him had whispered of her arrival, his eyes met hers across the room.

They flickered bright gold.

In a single thudding heartbeat, Sera’s magic erupted into life.

The prince smiled.

And she went to him.