Page 19 of The Dragon and the Dove

Pip snuggled into her arms. Here, at least, was some comfort. She had been missing him terribly. So much so she had almost crashed headlong into the wagon when it arrived from Halbracht yesterday morning carrying her beloved mutt.

After an urgent letter from Theo, a crate of Lightfire had been delivered at once to House Armand, the shipment (and Pip) personally escorted by Paola Versini, Theo’s aunt. Having made the considerable journey without stopping, she’d arrived half dead on her feet and been sleeping ever since.

Theo, meanwhile, had gone to work down in the cloakroom, trying to craft a weapon that could fell the Silver-tongue Saint.

Pip growled again.

‘What on earth has got—’ At the sight of the misshapen bird sitting on her windowsill, Sera jolted upright. ‘Hell’s teeth.’

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a gargoyle. Gruesome and hulking with bat-like wings, it looked out towards the Hollows, as though daring the revellers there to look back. Its strange composition marked it as another of Ransom’s shadowy inventions, though she didn’t recognize this particular horror from his sketchbooks. Not that she had flicked through them recently. She didn’t need to.

These days, he cast his dark imaginings for all to see.

Sera tapped on the window. The gargoyle didn’t flinch. How many more of these unsightly creatures had he planted, like flowerpots, on the sills of House Armand? And what was it costing him to keep them there?

Sera drew the curtains with a sigh. Pippin relaxed, retreating to his spot at the end of the bed. Feeling far too awake now, she went to get dressed.

After searching the house and garden for Ransom, she started to worry. In the lower kitchen, she ran into Fabian, who was sneaking a cream bun from the pantry.

He froze with half of it in his mouth. ‘Pleash donsh shtell Mashame Merschure.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Sera darted around him to swipe one for herself. ‘A little pastry theft here and there is good practice for a Cloak.’

Grinning, he wiped a glob of cream from his chin.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen Ransom?’

Fabian gulped down the rest of his mouthful. ‘Did you see his gargoyles? They’re hideous. I wish I could do that.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I bet he’s still up on the roof. I offered to keep him company but he told me to go to bed.’ He frowned at his pastry. ‘When I stuck around, he made one chase me off. It flew like a bat.’

Keeping the worry from her face, Sera ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Thanks, Fabian.’

When she climbed the stairwell to the roof a few minutes later, Ransom was exactly where Fabian said he would be. Sitting by the chimney, with his legs dangling over the edge, his head was tipped back, like he was in prayer. Dawn gilded him in soft golden light.

Sera stilled, taking in the hard edge of his jaw and the inky sweep of his thick dark hair. He was like a god in repose, adorned with an otherworldly beauty that made her heart beat harder…

And yet there was no mistaking the shadows that wreathed his arms, hugging his body like a second skin. A dark god, then, suffused with a dangerous power. A magic that was slowly eating away at him.

Her gift.

Her fault.

She had made him like this; restless, anxious, brutal.

‘Like what you see?’ In the dawn quiet, Ransom’s voice was as smooth as velvet.

Sera flushed. ‘Well, now I feel like a creep.’

He smiled at her over his shoulder, revealing a wedge of perfect white teeth.

She edged closer. ‘How did you know I was here? I’m supposed to be good at sneaking around. I was a Cloak once.’

‘A mediocre one.’ He said it like a compliment. ‘I caught your scent on the breeze. Lemon blossom in the spring… my own personal happiness.’

‘Now who’s the creep?’