Page 82 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘A dog,’ snarled Versini.

‘Says the serpent.’

The Shadowsmith jerked, shoving him off. It was a split second of contact. Cold hard hands meeting the warm skin of Ransom’s chest. His finger brushed the handprint that glimmered there and his eyes spun gold.

Ransom’s beasts evaporated. Daylight returned in a flood and he crumpled to the floor. A chasm yawned in him. There was a kind of scraping and then a violent sucking sensation, like his soul was being ripped out through his chest.

Groaning, he fisted the rug.

Dimly, he was aware of Anouk shoving into the space between them, her voice rising.

Ransom’s magic returned, like a rubber band snapping into place. The force knocked him backwards. Sprawled on the floor, he dragged a breath through his teeth. His lungs filled, and that hole inside him got smaller, bit by bit.

There was a scuffle nearby and then the sound of a door slamming.

Footsteps stopped beside his head and Anouk peered down at him. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘A saint-killer.’ Ransom spat the words. ‘Why bother with steelfire when we had Versini all along?’

She shook her head. ‘That’s not… He’s not… You’re mistaken.’

There was only one way to be sure. ‘Get Val.’

Chapter 19 Seraphine

When Sera woke in a bed that was not her own, in a castle far from the Hollows, she could barely remember her own name. Mistbane. In those early groggy minutes, she was grateful for its potency, the lingering fumes that delayed the sharp edge of her grief.

She remembered the flight first. The monstrous bird bursting from the clouds with wings so wide she couldn’t see beyond them. Ruby eyes like fresh blood. The soldier who’d grabbed her never said a word but she recalled with a shiver the hiss of his breath in her ear as he’d held her tight against the cold slab of his chest. They had flown deep into the night, summiting the clouds so fast the wind snatched the air from her lungs.

She’d grown dizzy then, the ground falling away too quickly, the dark devouring her sight. It was only when her senses returned and shock sharpened into terror that she tried to fight back. When he tipped the vial down her throat, the mistbane had been a reprieve. She was out in a finger snap, the Appoline and all its horrors lost to her.

Sera sat up in the strange bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. A canopy shrouded her, the fine white gauze swaying in the breeze. The next memory slid in like a knife. She remembered the clock tower where Nadia and Lisette had been waiting to greet them, then Lark stepping in from the elements with that menacing grin. She remembered Ransom on his hands and knees crawling to her, Saintkiller stuck like a thorn in his side, stealing the life from his eyes.

Yet still he’d come to her, dragging himself across the blood-slick floor. A sob caught in her throat. She fisted her sheets and retched. The sickly aftertaste of mistbane crawled up her throat.

‘Not usually how I like to be greeted,’ crowed an unpleasantly familiar voice. ‘But given the circumstances, I won’t take it to heart.’

The canopy was pulled back by a pair of Rose-bearers, revealing an opulent bedroom fit for a king. In the middle of it stood the Silver-tongue Saint.

Prince Andreas gripped the wrought-iron footboard at the end of her bed. ‘Welcome to Bellevue Castle, Seraphine. I trust you slept well?’

‘You drugged me.’

He grinned. ‘You must feel so rested.’

The last of her senses returned with violent clarity. She snapped her chin down, recognizing her own blood-streaked gown. Thank, Oriel.

Sunlight danced across the bedroom. She had been out all night.

Andreas gestured to her ruined dress. ‘Tell me, my sorry little dove, are you ready for peace?’

Sera lunged—

And was caught mid-leap by Andreas’s soldiers.

She spat at him instead.

He jerked backwards, laughing. ‘What will you do next, bite me?’