Page 73 of The Dragon and the Dove

The Stargrazer turned. ‘Andreas—’

‘Is going with Darius.’

Whatever else Caruso said was lost in a chorus of shrieks.

At a signal from Irina, the Strix took off once more, shadows rising like wraiths in the night.

Fisting a hydrangea, Val eked out a curse. ‘Bastard.’

Anouk glanced sidelong at her. ‘He just saved our skin.’

‘I know.’

They could have escaped then, crept from the bushes and run for cover, if not for the violent rattle of Anouk’s nerves. She was seized by the sudden bone-chilling realization that if her brother was still alive, he’d be swinging from the neck of the Strix that had just snatched Seraphine away.

Which meant Bastian was likely dead.

The thought lit like a spark.

And gave rise to a firestorm of terror.

Magic erupted, and every window of the Appoline exploded in a hail of colourful glass.

Chapter 17 Theo

When the undead provost lumbered onto the dais of the Appoline ballroom, Theo’s magic jolted awake.

That voice he had been trying so hard to ignore became a foghorn in his head.

Such magic in your midst.

Such power for the taking.

He fell back, losing himself in a sea of revellers as Anouk shoved her way towards her brother. No way in hell was he going near Ransom Hale like this.

The Saint of Truth was an equally unappealing destination, not that Val was in her right mind either. She was currently vomiting into a vase by the window.

Power rippled against him.

His own magic was a lightning rod, attracting the unseen forces in his midst.

He felt it everywhere, and all at once: the web of Andreas’s compulsions brushing up against his soul like a preening cat; the choking ash of Lark’s death magic; the dark swathe of Ransom’s shadows; the crystalline bell of Val’s truth magic; and the brute force of Anouk’s power trembling under the floorboards.

Not only could he feel it. He coveted it.

He burned for it.

Every last drop.

The need was deep and gnawing. A hunger so ravenous he could barely think beyond it. His hands began to sweat, teeth chattering as he stalked across the dance floor, looking for somewhere to hide.

Rose-bearers swarmed the ballroom, blocking every doorway—

Except for the one the dead provost had just emerged from.

Good enough. Theo crept around the dais, ignoring the prickling along the back of his neck. The door was ajar. He slipped through, and shut it behind him, standing with his back against the wood. His breath punched out of him, the heat in his veins only worsening.

There was magic in here, too.