Page 44 of The Dagger and the Flame
‘Barely,’ croaked Ransom.
‘It was touch-and-go there for a while,’ said Nadia, peering down at him.
Ransom reached for the pitcher of water on his nightstand and drained it. ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said, taking in the hesitant looks on his friends’ faces. ‘Dufort wants to see me.’
Lark nodded. ‘Lisette overheard the commotion in here last night.’
‘I really hate that snitch,’ muttered Nadia.
Ransom rolled out of bed and flinched as pain flared all along his right side. Lark lunged to steady him.
Last night, after getting him home, Lark and Nadia had fetched a local physician and long-time ally of the Order. In the privacy of his bedchamber, she had seen to the wound in his side, treating it with alcohol and then a tincture of herbs, before sewing the skin back together. Thirty-six stitches of tough black thread, to match the whorls around it.
An inch to the left, and this would have been fatal, she’d told Lark and Nadia as Ransom bit down on his pillow to keep from screaming. It was an effort not to arch his back, to endure the stab and pull of the needle as it plunged deep, over and over again.But the fever is still working on him. You need to get it to break.
‘Do you want Shade for the pain?’ Lark asked him now, his voice laced with worry.
Ransom shook his head. Last night he had been in such agony he hadn’t thought about anything else, but Lark had kept vigil at his bedside, counting his breaths as he slept, urging him to drink water every time he stirred and administering special tinctures every couple of hours. When his fever broke just after dawn, Ransom heard his best friend humming, gently guiding him through the fog of his nightmares.
Nadia had taken over from Lark at sunrise, laying a cool cloth on Ransom’s brow and holding his hand in hers, chatting softy to him as he slept, as if they were two old friends taking a stroll along the Verne.
Ransom had survived the night, but he had not slept off his rage or humiliation. Although the scope of his feelings hadsince broadened to include a simmering relief at being alive, and a fierce gratitude for his two best friends. He didn’t have the words to properly convey just how much they both meant to him, and when he tried, Nadia flinched.
‘Ugh, no deathbed speeches,’ she warned. ‘You’ll smudge my eyeliner.’
Lark helped him dress as quickly as his wound allowed, then knelt to lace up his boots. ‘Have you decided what to tell Dufort?’
Ransom ground his teeth. He didn’t know whether to admit his failure and suffer the consequences or say nothing of Villa Roman and redouble his efforts to pin down the girl.
‘Are you going to mention Seraphine?’ Nadia pressed.
Ransom bristled. ‘Don’t say that name.’
Lark raised his eyebrows. ‘It won’t make her magically appear.’
‘No, but it still pisses me off.’ Ransom knew he was being dramatic, petulant even, but that name conjured other things – visions of those dancing blue eyes, memories of the irritating smugness in her voice.Bleeding swan.And then there was the memory of the bead that had burned around her neck. The flame that hadburnedhim. If he thought about it for too long it would drive him to violence and he couldn’t afford to lose his composure in front of Dufort. Not after losing his mark.
Lark said no more. Ransom was glad of the silence as they walked to the Cavern, which was bustling with Daggers chatting over lunch. Dufort was in his usual spot at the back, with Lisette, the sharp-tongued, ambitious Dagger who was always clamouring for a shot at that gaudy ring onhis left hand. At twenty-one, she was a couple of years older than Ransom, and possessed a hostile, feline beauty that matched her personality: that of a ruthless killer. She tossed her ice-blonde hair now, her grey eyes raking over him as he approached.
‘You’re limping,’ she said, by way of greeting.
Dufort looked Ransom up and down. His eyes were clear today, his scowl deep. ‘What happened last night?’
Lisette’s red lips curled. ‘Don’t tell me your little farmgirl stuck you with her pitchfork.’ She was teasing, but there was a note of hunger in her voice. Ransom’s failure would bring her one step closer to claiming his role as Dufort’s Second, the heir to the Order and all its riches, which included the favour of the king himself.
It was chiefly for this reason that Ransom decided to lie. ‘I never got to the mark. I was on my way across the river when I ran into a monster.’ He frowned at the memory. ‘Well. It ranthroughme.’
Dufort sat up straight, the blood draining from his cheeks. ‘So, the rumours are true.’
Ransom nodded. ‘A beast of Shade. I plunged into a blackness so complete I couldn’t remember my own name.’ Without meaning to, his hands went to the wound in his side. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever wake up.’
The smile died on Lisette’s face. ‘Did this monster know you were a Dagger?’
‘If it did, it didn’t care.’ A pause, then, ‘I was lucky to have that Shade in my system.’ Not that it lasted. ‘It would have killed me if it had doubled back.’
Dufort’s face tightened, his gaze falling to Ransom’s side. Worry flickered there. ‘Looks like it made a good attempt.’
Ransom didn’t correct him.
