Page 172 of The Dragon and the Dove

Casting off the hood of her cloak, Sera revealed herself to the dawn. Taking the dove’s flag from its pole, she raised it above her head – high enough that Andreas would spot her from a mile away and know that she had come to him. High enough that he would keep his eyes on her and not the saints waiting to ambush him.

It was the only way Ransom would agree to Sera’s plan. If Andreas must be unmade by her hand, then first he would be maimed and rendered so bloodless he would pose no threat at all to Sera when she finally tangled her magic with his.

And Caruso…

Well, Caruso really wanted to try out his new sword.

With morning light came the full flush of Andreas’s army, their torches so bright it looked as though the northern plains were aflame. Soon, she could see the whites of his eyes, and the slow curl of his smile.

She knew he could see her too.

His martyr standing at the gates to the city.

All too soon Andreas reached the wide stone bridge that crossed the northern Verne, connecting the plains to the city of Fantome. It was there, at the other end of the bridge, that he drew to halt and raised his hand to her, as though they were old friends saying hello.

His army crowded at his back, a sea of cornflower blue uniforms standing rigidly to attention.

Beneath Sera, Ransom and Caruso were as silent as a tomb. They were so well hidden that she might have worried Ransom wasn’t there at all if it wasn’t for that tug in her chest, the promise between their souls holding fast.

She looked at Andreas’s army straining at the bit, and wondered how many Rose-bearers he would send across first.

But it was Theo who came. Striding across the bridge in his polished armour. He wore no helmet, revealing to her the familiar sea green of his eyes and the lazy quirk of his smile. But there was something different about him now, a hardness that hadn’t been there before. He wore his power like a second skin, and with each new step she felt it brush against her own, the dark tentacles of his magic probing at the very waters of her soul.

Goosebumps raised across her body.

The old voice stirred, telling her to run.

Too late now.

Theo reached the near side of the bridge and stalled on the outer rim of the stone circle. He looked straight ahead through the archway, his eyes flickering as he scanned the darkness there. He licked his lips, no doubt tasting the other powers in his midst. More souls ripe for the taking.

A shudder tripped down her spine.

‘Well?’ called Andreas, from across the bridge.

‘She’s alone,’ Theo called back.

Sera’s heart stuttered.

Theo looked up at her. ‘I knew you’d come.’

She curled her lip to hide her pain. ‘I’d hoped you were dead. Like the messenger corpse you delivered to my door.’

He hummed. ‘Well. Carrier pigeons are so unreliable.’

Across the bridge, Andreas crowed with laughter.

‘You should really get down from there,’ said Theo.

‘Why? So you can carry me over that bridge?’

‘Because it’s dangerous.’

Now it was her turn to laugh. What kind of game was this? Why had he lied just now to Andreas? Did he really not know there were two more saints skulking in the shadows barely a stone’s throw from where he stood? Did he truly think she was foolish enough to come here alone?

His face was placid, revealing nothing. Again, he said, ‘Come down, Seraphine.’

‘What did he offer you?’ she shot back. ‘To dress you like his tin man? To make you his little sniffer dog?’