Page 54 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’ sneered Ransom, removing his steelfire blade from his coat. ‘Don’t forget what you armed me with.’

Theo narrowed his eyes. ‘Point that thing at me one more time and I’m confiscating it.’

Ransom’s smile was a scythe.

Anouk punched her brother in the arm. ‘Do not make me ruin my curls.’

‘Maybe I should go instead of Theo,’ said Tobias, coming down the step.

Paola yanked him back. ‘Your cousin has gold blood, which means he’ll be a whole lot safer at the ball than you.’

More bickering. More childish threats.

Tuning it all out, Sera went to check on the coachmen as they loaded up the carriage, making sure all their costumes were packed inside the chest. Mercure’s fleet of seamstresses had arrived yesterday afternoon, carrying enough fabric to fashion the sails of an entire armada. They’d worked through the night, turning all those beautiful bolts of silk and satin into costumes that would allow them to blend seamlessly into Prince Andreas’s masquerade ball.

Their cloaks and masks were tucked safely inside Theo’s satchel, along with an entire arsenal of weapons, including lock-picks and daggers, pocket knives and necklaces strung with beads of Lightfire.

The journey was too long to pass in full regalia; they would have to stop somewhere near the Appoline to get changed.

Mercure looked towards the carriage, her wringing hands betraying her anxiety. ‘Be careful,’ she warned them. ‘And follow your instincts.’

Beside her, Fontaine was stone silent. Her milky eyes were trained on Theo.

As the sun rose above the Hollows and storm clouds gathered in the west, they climbed inside the carriage and waved goodbye.

Taking her seat by the window, Sera drew back the curtain back and watched House Armand disappear in the morning mist, as though it had never been there at all.

Val and Anouk wasted no time in divvying up Theo’s arsenal. On the bench across from Sera, Ransom was unusually quiet.

Nudging his foot, she said, ‘Nervous?’

His fingers twitched. ‘Impatient.’

As dawn bled into a dreary afternoon, they passed through the morning bustle of Fantome and onwards through the sleepy village of Everell, leaving the city by Wayfarer’s Gate.

The plains of Valterre passed by in smears of grey and green and brown, as they trundled past village after village, looking nervously for the Silver-tongue’s banners.

Sera didn’t notice she was chewing on her fingernails until Ransom leaned over and said, soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear, ‘He has no power over you. He can’t get into our minds.’

It wasn’t their minds she was worried about. As saints, their magic might make them immune to Andreas’s powers of persuasion, but not to his soldiers. Steelfire would make the job easier, but any blade could hack through a saint. And from what she knew of Urnica, their king and his Stargrazers were a brutal sort.

‘I know,’ she murmured.

Ransom’s eyes burned with sudden intensity. ‘I won’t let him hurt you, spitfire.’

She knew that too.

As the day wore on and evening draped itself across Valterre, chatter in the carriage died away. After stopping for food at a tavern, Sera dozed off, surrendering to the blackness of her dreams.

She woke to the weight of Ransom’s hand on her knee. ‘Are you all right?’

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. ‘Are we there yet?’

Outside, a murky patchwork of fields whipped by, the clouds heaving with the promise of rain.

‘Another hour or so.’

Anouk and Val were fast asleep. Having drunk a large pitcher of ale between them, Sera was hardly surprised.