Page 56 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

Back at their suite at the Paramour Inn, Sera locked the door behind them and went to the window.

Outside, the town had come alive again, only now that she was looking more closely at it, she could see the people here weren’t quite …

right . They milled about in a daze, some stopping in the street to stare at nothing, while others scrubbed their streaming eyes, unsure of why they were crying.

Even the dogs were disquieted, skulking like rats in the lanes or whimpering at their masters’ feet.

The red mills loomed over it all, like a row of menacing guardians, while the prince’s mercenaries stood on street corners, armed with stolen weapons and those unnerving blank-eyed stares.

It was all a show. A farce. A changing portrait of lies. Last night had been a grand spectacle, put on for her benefit. And she had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

Cursing her own naivety, Sera laid her head against the window pane.

‘This is all my fault.’ Why hadn’t she paid closer attention in the Rose Garden last night?

Why hadn’t she looked beyond the silver-tongued prince and examined the trappings of his lair, the revellers that he made twirl for him over and over again?

Absently, she fingered the skull ring in her pocket, wishing she could make Ransom appear. Why didn’t she listen to him?

Because you are an idealistic fool, Seraphine Marchant .

She had pinned her loyalty to a corrupt saint and lost her strongest ally in the process. Her Dagger. Her protector. Her heart.

Thanks to the prince’s compulsion, they would have to return to the red mills tonight, and Sera would either scour another brain-addled follower right down to the bone or make a saint for the prince to control at his own leisure. Another weapon for his arsenal. Another puppet for his rebellion.

‘I’m sorry it’s come to this.’ Feeling feverish with panic, she turned from the window and began to pace. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so—’

‘Sera.’ Suddenly, Theo was beside her, his hand heavy on her shoulder.

She turned and his turquoise eyes were less than a foot from her face.

‘Slow down. You’re going to ruin this nice carpet, and we can’t afford to fall out of favour with the innkeeper right now.

We need him to arrange a getaway carriage for us. ’

She stepped back. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘It didn’t work.’ Falling onto the bed, Val flung her arms out like she was making a snow angel. ‘Andreas’s stupid little compulsion has no effect on us.’

Sera stood over her. ‘How do you know?’

‘Because I have no intention of going back to that shithole tonight,’ said Val, blowing a curl out of her eye. ‘And because of this.’ Reaching under the collar of her shirt, she pulled out her necklace, revealing the precious bead of Lightfire they wore whenever they had to travel beyond Halbracht.

The Lightfire was meant to provide protection against Shade. Sera had never imagined it might shield her friends from something even more insidious; the poisoned-honeyed words of Prince Andreas Mondragon Rayere.

Theo pulled out his own then, the bead dangling from a loop of dark blue twine. ‘I was hoping it might work, but I couldn’t be sure… Not until he tried to compel us.’

‘When he turned those creepy golden eyes on us, and spoke in that awful cloying voice, I swear I felt this strange shadow worm into my head,’ said Val, sitting up now.

‘I felt it trying to latch on to my mind, but it couldn’t find the way in.

’ She clutched her necklace, kissing her fist. ‘When the bead warmed under my shirt, I knew that must be why.’

A hysterical laugh burst out of Sera. ‘So you lied?’ she said, looking between them. ‘You both looked him in the eye and lied?’

Val shrugged. ‘Easy, really. I was a Cloak, remember? I’ve been double-crossing people my whole life.’

Theo grinned. ‘Of course the arrogant fool fell for it.’

This time, when Sera resumed pacing, it was in pursuit of a plan. ‘We need to get out of here before Andreas figures out what happened. He won’t make the same mistake twice.’

‘He’s already sent the Daggers away,’ said Theo, echoing her own burgeoning suspicions. ‘Otherwise, why would he order us not to ask about them?’

It was a relief to think that Ransom hadn’t abandoned her after all.

But while it lessened the weight in her chest, the question of his whereabouts still prickled under her skin.

Was he under Andreas’s power? And to what end?

She was worried about him. More than that, she wanted to be with him, to tell him that she would be at his side when they faced the prince together and killed him.

It was too late. She knew by the bleak look on Theo’s face.

‘We can’t go after them, Sera. Even if we knew where to look, we might never find them.’

‘I know,’ she said quietly. And there was still Bibi to think about. They couldn’t abandon her just because their plans had fallen to ruin. ‘We can’t return to the Summer Palace empty-handed,’ she said, slumping onto the bed. ‘We might as well put a noose around Bibi’s neck ourselves.’

‘Well, we can’t kill Andreas either,’ said Val. ‘Not like this, and not without the Daggers’ help.’

‘Unless we had a saint of our own…’ Theo was looking at Sera, his eyes glimmering. She recognized the light there, the silver threads of a plan forming. ‘You could always try again. On me.’

The suggestion was so startling she shot to her feet. Hadn’t he witnessed what had just happened to Talisa? Traced the contours of her ribs through the hole in her chest, held her broken body in his arms? Wasn’t he afraid ?

‘No way,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘Theo, no . It’s far too risky.’

‘It won’t be like it was with Talisa,’ he insisted. ‘We won’t force you. We won’t hold your hand down.’

‘No,’ she repeated, firmer now. ‘It’s not worth the risk.’

He refused to back down. ‘You’ve already done it once. Delano is living proof.’

‘Lark Delano is a walking skeleton. Hardly a recipe for success. And look what happened to Talisa.’ The reminder of it made her retch, regret raking its claws down her spine. If Theo met the same fate at her hands, she’d never survive it.

He waved off her concerns, like they were talking about burning a batch of muffins and not accidentally killing a royal princess of Urnica. ‘You didn’t want to make her. You were in your head about it.’

‘I don’t know how to get out of my head,’ said Sera. ‘With Lark, all I felt in the moment was pure, bone-deep terror. The certainty that I was going to die. I flung my hand out as a reaction to that fear. It was just… instinct .’

‘So let this time be instinct. We might be dead by nightfall. At least this way, we’d have a fighting chance.’

‘Unless you end up with some shitty power,’ countered Val. ‘Like… I don’t know, a Saint of Books.’

He turned on her. ‘A saint of books ? What does that even mean?’

‘It means you’re no killer,’ said Val, pointedly.

‘You’re soft, Theo. Studious. You care about knowledge and philosophy and invention.

The odds of you being able to weaponize your power against Andreas in any kind of meaningful way – that is if Sera doesn’t accidentally burn you to cinders – are slim. It’s not worth the risk.’

He glared at her. ‘Consider me offended.’

‘If you ask me, I’d be the better bet.’

‘Stop arguing,’ said Sera. ‘I’m not betting on either of you. Not here. Not like this.’

Stewing now, Theo went to the window, a muscle ticking in his jaw. ‘You’ll have to try some time, Sera,’ he said, in a low, frustrated voice. ‘It’s your gift. Your duty. Not just to Saint Oriel, but to the kingdom.’

‘I will,’ she said, and despite what had happened with Talisa, she meant it. ‘Just not now. Not here.’

He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘Swear it.’

Bristling, she said, ‘I shouldn’t have to swear it. I don’t break my word.’

Turning back to the street, he sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just this place. Everything. It’s getting to me.’

It was deeper than that, Sera knew. Theo wasn’t angry.

He was jealous. Sometimes, when they spoke about these grand ideas of magic and fate and the true cost of power, she felt like she was talking not just to her friend but to his ambition, too, to that hunger inside him that crackled like an ember.

She could sense it in him now, that edge of frustration, that growl of need.

It reminded her of the Versini brothers.

And if she was honest with herself, after learning the truth about Andreas, she could admit that a part of her worried about pouring her gift into Theo, not because of how it might harm his body but of how it might harm his soul.

What it might become when it sparked off that ember inside him.

Lark and Andreas were living proof that the Second Age of Saints was already a far cry from the first. Gone were the likes of tender-hearted Saint Alisa, dauntless Saint Maurius and valiant Saint Cadel. Provost Ambrose was right. In this new world, power did not guarantee goodness.

If Sera was to be the conduit for a new Age of Saints, then she owed it to Oriel to be careful with her choices.

‘I have a plan.’ Val’s announcement knocked Sera from her thoughts. ‘Sorry to scoop you, Theo. I know how you like to be the problem-solver.’

That earned her a dimpled smile, the lingering tension fading as they gathered close.

Val spoke fast and low. ‘We’ll leave Marvale and go north to Halbracht.

With any luck, Othilde will have finished the new batch of Lightfire.

We’ll take a wagon, and take a full shipment back to the king, telling him what we’ve learned about his nephew’s power.

Instead of a dead body, we’ll offer him shields made of Lightfire.

The ultimate protection against the prince’s thrall.

If he agrees to release Bibi, we’ll outfit his entire army with them before Andreas turns up at his door and enthrals him too. ’