Page 83 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘If it finally shuts you up.’

He clucked his tongue. ‘Well, you’re clearly not a morning person.’

Sunlight gilded him where he stood, dancing along the gold threads of his hair. His pristine frock coat was deep blue. The clothing of a king. An emperor, perhaps. She had forgotten how tall he was, how commanding his presence could be.

‘Why am I here?’ she said, slumping back onto the bed. Better to save her strength for now. ‘We both know I’d sooner die than help you destroy this kingdom.’

A sly smile. ‘Oh, sweet little dove. I don’t need you to help me. I only need you to bleed for me.’

Her breath stuck, revulsion stiffening her spine. She would not give her power willingly, so he had decided to try and take it from her veins. Stepping away from her, he spoke now to his soldiers. ‘I’ll be back within the hour. Let her enjoy the full trappings of my generous lodgings, but keep her alive. Pin her to the wall if she tries anything reckless.’

He was gone with a swift clatter of bootsteps, leaving her alone in the cavernous bedroom with two freshly compelled Rose-bearers to watch over her. They returned to their post by the door.

Sera ghosted her hands over her dress, feeling the absence of every single weapon she had adorned herself with on the way to the Appoline. Even the pins in her hair were gone, along with her necklace of Lightfire.

Without Lightfire to jog their minds free, her pleas would have no effect on Andreas’s puppets. Biting back her frustration, she slipped out of bed to investigate her surroundings. The room was round, a turret so high it shared the sky with the larks. She went to the window, glimpsing ramparts and a vast forest beyond. A river ran to the north. More trees to the west, and to the east nothing but miles and miles of farmland. She had never been this far west before, but she knew the castle from the maps that used to hang on her wall as a child, and the old stories of kings and queens who had married here.

She was a long way from Fantome. Too far to run without getting caught. But there was a village not too far north from here: Frederic’s Rest. And to the south-east the sea town of Mauranus. Were the people there in thrall, like those in the west plains? Or had Andreas yet to bend the east provinces to his will?

Her mind reeled. If she could just make her way across the ramparts and slip through the portcullis … she could lose herself in the trees until nightfall.

She pressed her hands against the window, assessing the height of her turret. The drop alone would kill her. And if not, something worse awaited her.

Far below her, a pair of Strix slumbered in the long grass, their great black wings cast over their heads to stave off the sunlight. If she ran, would they chase her? Tear her limb from limb with those sharp shining beaks?

Saints, help me.

She rubbed the space above her heart, feeling for that thread inside her. There was nothing but the thunder of her own fear.

How could Ransom come for her if he was dead?

How could she run to him with an army of Strix breathing down her neck?

The bedroom door swung open, jolting her away from the window. She spun around as a pair of maidservants bustled inside.

‘We’re to get you cleaned up,’ said the elder of the two, a short portly woman with a northern accent.

‘For what reason?’ she enquired.

They looked at her blankly.

Compelled. She recoiled at their nearness, but they had not come with weapons or poisons. Rather, towels and lavender soap. A clean nightgown. She followed them into the adjacent bathroom, where they scrubbed her hair clean. She washed herself in a warm bath, searching all the while for a makeshift weapon.

There was nothing. Not a vase or a candlestick. Even the oil portraits were bolted to the wall.

After braiding her hair and dressing her in a plain white nightgown, the maidservants departed.

Sera paced, sending a prayer to Saint Oriel.

Do not desert me now, Saint of Destiny.

Not while the kingdom balances on the knife edge of ruin.

The old voice was silent.

Whether from mistbane or fear, Sera didn’t know.

When Andreas returned, she was sitting on the bed, trying to calm her rioting heart. The sight of Nadia, Lark and Lisette striding in after him sent her attempts at calmness up in flames. She grabbed a slipper and flung it at Lisette.