Page 68 of The Rebel and the Rose (The City of Fantome #2)

Ransom was a saint. And he was damn good at it.

Deep in the Cavern of the catacombs of Fantome, he sat at one end of a long wooden table, his golden eyes glimmering like a dark lord of hell.

Shadows swarmed him, shaped into seething, snarling beasts.

More occupied the north and south tunnels and stood on either side of the guarded entryway.

There, at his insistence, and by the grace of his new power, this writhing darkness made from light.

Drumming his fingers along the wood, he locked eyes with Sera, a smile curling one side of his mouth.

Seated all the way at the other end of the table, like a queen of her own, she returned his smile, ever aware of that tug in her chest. The thread that had saved him.

The one that now bound them to each other.

Between them, sat the members of their burgeoning new Order: Theo at Sera’s right-hand side, and Val to her left. Paola had remained back at Halbracht for the time being, to oversee the production of Lightfire and keep a watchful eye on Pippin, who was nestled safely in the Pinetops.

There was an empty chair beside Val for Bibi. Bibi who had died as a result of Andreas’s macabre spectacle of power. Bibi, whom they had failed to rescue after all. The guilt of that loss was a rock in Sera’s chest. As sharp and heavy as her grief.

She swore she would avenge her.

If it was the last thing she did.

All hell , she would.

Anouk occupied the chair beside Ransom, the rest of them filled by the Daggers who had ignored Lisette’s call to pledge their allegiance to Prince Andreas and had instead waited for Ransom to return.

They had not been expecting the saint that had walked through these doors three nights ago. Or the company he had brought with him. But they had stayed, and heard it all, free to make a new choice: stand with the Saint-maker of Fantome or pledge themselves to a tyrant prince.

The time of the Daggers was over. So, too, was the Age of Darkness they had presided over for too long. Ransom and Sera had seen to it yesterday morning, using the latest batch of Lightfire from Halbracht to destroy the remaining stores of Shade in the catacombs.

‘Andreas will strike again soon,’ said Ransom now. ‘And he’ll come straight for us.’

For me .

For as long as Sera lived, Andreas and his power would not go unchallenged. She was not his rose after all, but a thorn in his side.

‘He’ll have an army of unfathomable proportions,’ said Theo, starkly. ‘The living and the dead if Lark Delano is still in play.’

‘We have an army too,’ said Anouk, those hazel eyes flickering gold.

‘If he wants to fight for the soul of this kingdom, let him come. I’ll bring this whole place down on him.

Every skull and rock and bone, and all the rats too.

Let them gnaw through the ribbons of his intestines once I’m done playing jump rope with them. ’

The Daggers at the table stiffened.

Theo cocked a brow. ‘Did they teach you how to talk like that at the priory?’

A thin smile. ‘You’d be surprised what unending boredom does to a young acolyte’s imagination.’

Ransom scrubbed a hand across his jaw. ‘Right. Thanks for that.’

‘There are only thirty of us down here,’ Val piped up. ‘Two saints, and a bunch of impotent Daggers now all the Shade is gone.’ She flashed her teeth. ‘No offence.’

‘We have Lightfire,’ said Tobias. ‘Protection against the Silver-tongue’s compulsions.’

A boon, certainly.

‘But nothing to shield us from Delano’s…

talents ,’ Theo reminded them. ‘It’s hardly ideal to set up our headquarters in the graveyard district.

’ And that was to say nothing of all the skulls in these walls.

It’s not like they had had much time to come up with a place, having fled the Summer Palace in the dead of night.

‘It’s temporary,’ Ransom reminded him. ‘We’ll find a new place now that we’ve dealt with the Shade.’

The mood remained sombre, the odds of what they were facing as menacing as the beasts that prowled at Ransom’s back.

‘Let Andreas gather his forces,’ said Sera, as though it was nothing to her. ‘Let him have his corpses and his slaves. We’ll make our own army. Our own saints.’

Theo’s brows shot up, that silvered gleam returning to his eyes. ‘You’re ready to try again?’

Her magic purred in response, the glow of it warming her skin.

Yes, Maker .

It is time .

She knew it now. She could feel it, this sense of rightness, of inevitability. And she was not afraid any more. She was the right hand of Saint Oriel, and she would save this kingdom from ruin if it was the last thing she did.

‘When?’ said Tobias.

‘Who first?’ asked Theo.

‘Whoever is willing,’ said Sera.

Thirty bodies went rigid, the sudden silence palpable. Desire, trepidation, intrigue, fear. She felt it all filling up the spaces between them. Her magic sensed it too, that invisible force inside her reaching out like tentacles, brushing up against these eager souls as if to make its own choosing.

‘Sleep on it,’ said Ransom, rising abruptly from the table. ‘Just as Seraphine will.’

He cast her a meaningful look.

Sera stood too, excusing herself from the table.

The Cavern descended into animated chatter as she made for the north passage, following Ransom out into the tunnels. His beasts flanked them, his power working even now. Not a show of control but a sign of his anxiety, his fear of losing her again. Of losing Anouk.

Stopping halfway down the narrowing tunnel, Sera tugged him back to her, pressing a calming hand against his chest. His heart galloped against her palm.

‘You don’t need the shadows all the time,’ she said softly. ‘Rest a while. Take a moment to breathe.’

He turned into her, gently pressing her back against the wall. ‘How else can I keep you safe, spitfire?’

‘I don’t need minding, Ransom.’

‘I know.’ He tucked a hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheeks. ‘Let me do it anyway.’

Slowly, like a dying wind, she sensed the shadows behind her melting away, his eyes returning to their usual honeyed warmth as he sank back into himself.

‘Better,’ she murmured, sliding her other hand up his chest. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

He dipped his chin, looking serious now. ‘I know you’re eager to try again. But take your time, Seraphine. There can be no mistakes.’

No more Larks .

‘You say that like you have a particular mistake in mind.’

‘You know I do.’

She glowered at him. ‘Theo saved Anouk’s life back at the Summer Palace. He lifted her body out of the rubble. When are you going to let up on him?’

‘When he stops badgering you about your magic.’

‘Easy for you to say, saint .’ She was teasing now, prodding at the stress he wore so heavily. Tugging his collar open, she traced the top of her handprint on his chest, the gold there shining faintly in the dimness. ‘I’ve already had my way with you.’

He dropped his gaze, trailing his finger down her neck. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘Why not?’

Deftly angling her head to the side, he dragged his lips along her neck.

Arching her back, she twined her fingers in his thick hair.

She pulled him closer, pressed his mouth harder until she could feel the nip of his teeth against her skin.

Magic roared through her bloodstream, greedy for more.

It tangled with his own, a blanket of shadows coming over them, as if to hide them away from the world.

Sera was so lost in him that she nearly missed the sound of the bell echoing down the passageway. Until it rang again. Longer. Louder.

Dragging himself away from her, Ransom stepped back.

His eyes were wild and bright. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never seemed more alive. More hers . A king woven from the darkness, with a soul as bright as the sun.

‘Someone’s here.’ Composing himself, he turned and stalked towards the entryway. His beasts ran on ahead of him, two broad-winged ravens flying overhead.

Sera hurried after him.

One glance through the peephole and Ransom stood back, twisting the skull on the wall. The entrance to Hugo’s Passage groaned open, revealing a well-dressed young boy with a pale face and a dark mop of hair.

Ransom’s voice was a growl. ‘I thought I told you never to come back here.’

The boy’s eyes widened as a raven shot out of the tunnel.

Stumbling backwards, he caught himself before he fell.

He found his voice a beat later. ‘Had to, Mr Hale. I’ve got a letter from my mistress, see.

’ He pulled a dark green envelope from the inside of his smart brown jacket. Sera recognized the wax seal at once.

‘Madame Cordelia Mercure,’ she said, noticing the cloak around the boy’s shoulders. ‘You’re from House Armand.’

The boy nodded. ‘I’m Fabian.’

Softening ever so slightly, Ransom took the envelope and ripped it open. His brows shot up, and when he spoke again, there was a hint of bemusement in his voice. ‘Cordelia’s heard what happened at the Summer Palace. She seeks a new alliance.’

Sera blinked in alarm. ‘With the Daggers ?’

Ransom slowly shook his head. ‘With the saints.’

‘There are saints on both sides of this war,’ she said, warily.

Fabian piped up. ‘Fontaine said you’re the good ones.’

‘Did she indeed?’

‘Except for your attitude problem,’ he added.

She snorted. ‘That sounds about right.’

Shuffling from one foot to the other, the boy said, ‘So what do I tell her?’

Ransom and Sera exchanged a look.

‘Tell her we’ll see her soon,’ said Sera. ‘And tell Fontaine I’ve missed her terribly.’

With a rush of giddy excitement, the boy whooped, taking off into the night.

Ransom stepped back into the catacombs. As the doorway sealed shut once more, she turned into his arms. Sighing softly, he pressed his lips against her hair.

‘This might be fun, you know,’ she said.

She felt him smile. ‘Well, it certainly won’t be dull.’

Holding hands, they ambled back to the Cavern. Walking into the darkness but looking, at last, towards the future. This new kingdom. This new freedom. Even if they had to fight tooth and nail for it.

They would.

Together.