Page 17 of The Dragon and the Dove

A corner of Ransom’s mouth lifted. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said, twirling his own breadknife. ‘I’ll gut the bastard from head to toe, and rip out his silver tongue for good measure.’

‘It’s no small thing to kill a saint,’ warned Fontaine. ‘Their very blood is healing.’

The patchwork of yellowing bruises along Ransom’s jaw was proof enough. The deep gashes in his scalp were already fading, his fractured eye socket all but healed.

‘It’s true,’ said Anouk. ‘A falling prayer tower couldn’t kill me. We’ll need one hell of a weapon to get to Prince Andreas.’

‘Theo can make one,’ Val piped up.

Theo spluttered a laugh. ‘Oh, he can, can he?’

‘You’re the Shadowsmith. Inventing shit is your whole thing.’

‘Afraid of the challenge, Versini?’ goaded Ransom.

‘No.’ Theo snatched up a pastry and tore off the crust. ‘Of course I can do it.’

‘The sooner the better,’ said Fontaine ominously.

‘I can work up something once I get access to the cloakroom,’ said Theo.

Slipping a hand inside her blazer, Mercure retrieved a brass key and slid it across the table. ‘Do not let me down again, Theodore.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I suggest the rest of you make yourselves useful in the meantime.’ Fontaine jabbed her pipe at Ransom. ‘You. Get a grip on those damn shadows of yours. They’re leaking all over my floor.’

A look of surprise passed over Ransom. He straightened in his chair, a flick of his wrist calling back the spill of darkness at his feet.

A dangerous lapse in attention.

Not for the first time, Sera worried about the consequences of his new power, and wished she had gifted him something gentler on his soul. Not this creeping dark that seemed to eat away at the edges of him, feeding greedily on his rage, his fear.

Mercure turned on Anouk. ‘And what of the Stone Maiden, scourge of the Isle of Alisa? I gather your tantrums can tear down buildings.’

‘It is a bit… imprecise,’ admitted Anouk. ‘I’m working on it.’

‘As for our Saint-maker…’ demanded Fontaine, ‘are you making use of your gift? How many others have you turned?’

Sera shrank under the weight of her gaze. Sensing the question, or perhaps the expectation, her magic stirred.

‘You’re a seer,’ Ransom cut in. ‘Shouldn’t you already know?’

By the way Fontaine glanced at Theo, it was plain Fontaine knew more than she was letting on.

‘Perhaps the more pertinent question is, how many people at this table do you plan to turn?’ said Fontaine.

Sera said, ‘As many as are willing.’

Ransom ground his jaw. ‘So long as it doesn’t harm her.’

Fontaine jabbed her pipe at him. ‘That girl is the most powerful person in this kingdom. We can sit here and talk about plans all day long, but they will all come to nothing if she doesn’t embrace her destiny and make weapons that might actually win this war.’

‘And what about what it takes from her?’ said Ransom through his teeth. ‘Doesn’t that matter?’

‘Not when she was made to give it,’ said Fontaine.

Sera’s cheeks grew hot, her magic squirming hotly under skin, like it agreed with Fontaine.