Page 109 of The Rebel and the Rose
Ransom froze in a crouch.
The prince stood over him, those shining eyes commanding every morsel of his attention. ‘I’ll have your loyalty, even if I have to wrest it from your Shade-mottled mind, Dagger.’
Snared in that all-consuming magic, Ransom could only stare up at him dumbly. He felt its power move through him, like a worm wriggling through his mind.
‘In time, I’ll have the rest of your Order, too,’ Andreas went on. ‘You see, I have plans for the Daggers, Ransom Hale. A rather unique army of soldiers, don’t you think? And my dull-witted uncle only ever thought to use you one at a time. To scatter you like marbles across Valterre, hoping to catch me. It’s almost insulting.’
Ransom’s legs began to ache. Reminding himself to stand, he rolled to his feet. ‘What are you doing to me?’
‘I’m commanding you, like the dutiful soldier you are.’ Andreas smiled, the brightness of his teeth echoingthe spell-binding sheen in his eyes. There was something maddening about that stare. It disturbed the deep waters of Ransom’s soul, made them roil and thrash inside him.
Run, screamed a voice inside him.Run and don’t look back.
‘It hurts less when you don’t fight it,’ Andreas remarked, with a casualness that belied his complete annihilation of Ransom’s willpower. ‘You can remind your friend of that when she finally comes to.’
It took every ounce of Ransom’s attention to eke out his next words. ‘Fuck you.’
The answering pain in his skull was worth it.
‘I made a grave error in overlooking you last night.’ Tucking his arms behind his back, the prince circled him. A lion assessing its prey. The fine embroidery of his shirt glinted in the dim lighting, drawing Ransom’s gaze to the roses emblazoned on his shirt sleeves. ‘If I go straight for the rose, I’ll prick my eager fingers on the thorns.’
He stopped in front of him, tilting his chin to account for their difference in height. ‘Seraphine is my rose. But you, Dagger, are the thorn that will keep me from plucking her for my court. From using her, as Saint Oriel intended.’
Murderous thoughts filled Ransom, his vision narrowing to a keen red mist. His fists hardened, a dangerous heat gathering in his chest.
You are not going to harm me.
That thought alone stayed his hands, his head throbbing as he strained against it.
‘You are the one who guards her.’
Yes.
‘Covets her.’
Yes.
‘You think of her as yours.’ His smile was indulgent. ‘Which means you are going to be a problem for me.’
Ignoring the horrible pain in his skull, Ransom said through his teeth. ‘Bet on it.’
‘I’m afraid you have to go.’ The prince combed his hair back, skewering him with that blinding gaze. That cloying power suffused Ransom, like vines crawling over his mind. ‘But it just so happens, I need a very urgent favour from you, Dagger.’
With mounting horror, Ransom found himself nodding. His thoughts were becoming a fog, the logical voice inside him quickly fading. ‘You are going to take your fellow Daggers away from Marvale and travel at once to the Isle of Alisa. You will find my missing saint and kill her, just as the king commanded.’
Dimly, Ransom was alarmed by the stiffening of his spine, his shoulders rolling back like a soldier standing to attention. He pushed his next words out. ‘You’re going to kill another saint?’
Andreas shrugged, the cost of betrayal hardly weighing on him. ‘More will arise in due course,’ he said, vaguely. ‘I prefer to work with known quantities. Preferably ones that don’t murder their own.’
‘But Oriel—’
‘Oriel is dead. Her will has no power over me.’
Ransom opened his mouth to argue, the effort of pushing through that fog turning his tongue to lead in his mouth. The prince stepped closer, the magic in his eyes casting a goldensheen across his skin. Blanching the rest of Ransom’s free thought.
‘Find the acolyte. Kill her. Bury her body. And return at once to the catacombs of Fantome. I will find you there when the time is right.’
Ransom felt himself nod.
