Page 59 of The Dragon and the Dove

The Rose-bearers had moved into position some time ago.

She looked around, quailing.

As the violins wailed, they drifted towards the dais, where the string quartet stared vacantly into the distance.

More puppets.

‘Why do I feel like we’re at a funeral?’ said Seraphine.

Ransom searched the sea of costumes, trying to find the others. If they’d already come upon the target, Anouk would have made a chandelier fall. The fact that they all remained untouched meant Andreas was nowhere to be found.

The Silver-tongue Saint was not at his own ball.

Unease festered.

The music became flat and discordant, like the minstrels had suddenly forgotten how to play their own instruments. Ransom braced himself as a figure appeared from a private chamber behind the dais.

Clad in a long black robe, he removed his hood as he approached the platform.

Too tall to be the prince.

Too old.

And yet, chillingly familiar.

Ransom swore.

Sera lost her footing. ‘Is that—’

With lumbering steps, the provost of the Appoline climbed onto the dais. In the sconce light, the wrongness was impossible to miss. It was in the grey pallor of his skin and the bowls of his eye sockets.

A black handprint stained his mouth, ink spattered like freckles across his cheeks. The quill it had spilled from jutted out of his neck.

It was not quite Provost Ambrose.

It was his corpse.

He was missing his writing hand.

‘This is sick,’ said Seraphine.

This is for us.

Ransom’s magic was wide awake, dark tendrils leaking from his clenched fists. Why on earth would Prince Andreas invite the Urnican delegation to the Appoline just to terrorize them?

Why insult the cousin who had lent him an army and risk the ire of the kingdom’s bloodthirsty neighbours?

Why throw a victory ball at all, when the kingdom had yet to fall?

You know why, whispered the old voice.

The dancers were swaying in time with the music.

He peered closer, dread unfurling in his gut.

The way they moved, the way they danced…

A tug at his arm made him turn. Anouk.