Page 108 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘What the hell did you just do to her?’
‘I asked her to dance,’ said the prince, flatly. ‘Would you prefer I backhanded her? I’m really not the violent sort. Despite what my uncle told you when he placed that bounty on my head.’ He tapped his chin, amending his answer. ‘Or rather, I don’t like todo the violent partmyself. Such is thepurpose of rebels and mercenaries.’ He gestured casually to the shadows pooling around Ransom. ‘I suppose we are unalike in that way.’
‘We’re unalike in every way, Andreas.’ Glancing around, Ransom counted at least forty bodies, struggling to come to. There must be hundreds more strewn across Marvale, like wind-up toys that had sputtered out. ‘They’re in your thrall. All of them. Last night was a farce. None of it was real.’
‘It was real enough for sweet Seraphine.’
Ransom’s fists curled.
‘Unlike you, Dagger, she understands my grand vision.’
Ransom might have laughed if he wasn’t so close to throttling the smarmy bastard. Shaking his head, he said, ‘She would never want this.’
An irritating shrug. ‘I suppose we’ll see.’
Not after I fucking kill you.
‘Where’s Nadia?’
‘Sleeping somewhere around here, I suppose.’ He couldn’t have cared less. ‘We had a long talk. After a little persuasion, your friend sang like a canary.’
Ransom spotted her just then out of the corner of his eye. She was slumped in an armchair by the dance floor, her chest rising and falling. The tightened strands of her ponytail had come undone, and her brow was furrowed. She was twitching in her sleep.
‘She looks like she’s in pain.’
‘They get used to it. The worm will work itself out soon enough.’ Arrogance oozing from his voice, the prince didn’t even glance in Nadia’s direction. Ransom wondered if he evenremembered which one she was. ‘It can be exhausting having to think for yourself all the time.’
A sense of urgency gripped Ransom. Andreas had to die. And fast. But the prince was smarter than he first appeared, and armed with the kind of magic that could bring a village to its knees. And, in time, maybe even a kingdom.
‘I owe your Second a great debt. And I intend to pay it soon enough. In telling me all about my final missing saint, Sister Marianne, she’s saved me weeks of legwork.’
Well, fuck.
Ransom had completely forgotten about the acolyte.
‘All this time, I was wondering what was taking her so long to get here.’ Laughing now, Andreas threw up his hands, like they had just stumbled upon a funny blunder together. ‘How could my Marianne make her way to Marvale when she’s trapped on that godforsaken island with a bunch of simpering acolytes?’ His face changed in an instant, disgust twisting his features. ‘Imagine dedicating your entire life to praying to the meekest, least interesting of our dead saints.Starvingfor Saint Alisa!Kneelingat the altar of her memory! And when another onefinallycomes along after a thousand years of yearning and waiting and simpering, crowned in yourvery priory, instead of celebrating her, you lock her up and go crying to your king!’ He spat on the floor. ‘Hypocrisy at its worst. The very core of this kingdom is rotten.’
‘Are you done talking?’ Ransom flexed his fingers, sending his shadows skittering across the floor.
‘Not remotely.’ Andreas walked right through them, grinning as they dissolved.
Fine, then. He could bleed the old-fashioned way. Cloaking the action, Ransom withdrew the knife in his waistband.
The prince was ten feet away now. Then eight. Six. Four.
Ransom was just about to lunge when he said, ‘Drop that knife.’
His eyes flared bright gold.
For a fleeting moment, Ransom felt like he was staring straight into the sun.
His thoughts scattered.
The knife clattered to the floor.
He bent down to grab it.
‘Leave it. You are not going to harm me.’
