Page 163 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘Oriel has a cruel sense of humour,’ said Lark.

Nadia stepped back, taking her hands from his face.

‘Don’t,’ he said, lurching forward, shoving Caruso’s blade even deeper into his hand. ‘I want it still.’

Her touch. Her warmth.

Saints, her heart was bleeding, and Caruso and Ransom were watching it all. Lark’s executioners hovered just over her shoulder, waiting to finish the job.

She cupped his face. ‘Would you go back if you could? If there was a way to be unmade?’ Her voice was urgent. Loud enough that Ransom and Caruso could hear her. This wasn’t just a proposition for Lark. ‘Sera has to unmake the prince before she kills him. Otherwise, all Andreas’s compulsions will remain, even after his death.’

‘You’ll never get that close,’ said Lark, curling his lip. ‘Andreas has thousands of Rose-bearers at his beck and call. A skyful of Strix.’ He smiled, fondly. ‘And don’t forget the soul-eater.’ His gaze slid over her shoulder, finding Ransom’s in the dark. ‘You can kill me, Hale, but you won’t kill the movement. You don’t stand a chance against the Silver-tongue.’

‘Stop,’ hissed Nadia. ‘I’m trying to help you.’

‘My love,’ he crooned. ‘I’m beyond help.’

‘Just listen to me,’ she pleaded. ‘Sera doesn’t know how to unmake a saint. She doesn’t know if she can. But you can help her.’ Her voice climbed, shrill with fear and grief. ‘You can go back, Lark. You can be just like you were before.’

Caruso clucked his tongue. ‘Nadia Raine, you manipulative little shrew.’

She shot him a look. ‘It’s a logical plan.’

‘Even if it is woefully transparent,’ said Ransom, flatly, ‘this isn’t about the good of the kingdom.’

She didn’t deny her true intentions. She was pitching for Lark’s life, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t merit in her method. Seraphine loved this city and Ransom loved her enough to consider it. He might have said yes, stowed his vengeance for another day, if Lark hadn’t ruined it all by laughing.

It was a wretched choking sound.

‘No,’ he said.

The word echoed.

Nadia frowned. ‘No?’

‘You’re on the losing side, darling. Don’t you see? If I help you, I’ll lose too.’ His smile was rueful. ‘And Hale will kill me anyway.’

‘Lark—’

‘Even a rat knows when he’s caught in a trap. The bridge has been burned to cinders. My card is marked.’

She hung her head.

Walk away, hissed the old voice.

Or better still – run.

He wasn’t going to help himself.

He wasn’t going to help her.

He wasn’t going to fight.

‘Your time is up,’ said Ransom.

Nadia raised her chin, meeting the emptiness in Lark’s eyes, and saw now what she had missed before. It was already too late. Lark’s magic had chewed through his mind. The glimmers of him that remained were fading too.

Death had claimed its Necromancer.