Page 122 of The Rebel and the Rose
Would Saint Oriel approve?
Again, she faltered, her magic stuttering in her fingertips. Surely, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. A new Age of Saints made and traded in clandestine deals and accidental fits of terror. What about worthiness?Goodness?Doing it like this – out of fear and panic – made a mockery of Oriel, and the saints of old, those ordinary, unassuming people chosen because of their pure hearts, their innate selflessness.
This was wrong.
It wasall wrong.
Sera’s fingers curled into a fist.
Talisa harrumphed. ‘Come on. I don’t feelanything.’
‘Seraphine.’ Andreas’s voice became a low growl. ‘Get out of your own head.’
‘I c-can’t.’
‘Youmust.’ Cool fingers encircled the back of her neck, squeezing there. ‘You will.’
Again, she flattened her palm. Again, her magic flowed, quick and hot and violent, as if a volcano was spewing inside her. There was fear there too, guilt and uncertainty and panic all melding into a dangerous maelstrom. Terror and magic tangled.
Her hand flared bright gold. White hot.
This is wrong.
This is wrong.
This is wrong.
Her power faltered, her magic turning back on itself as if in retreat. Too late. Too hot. Too close to the surface now. There was nowhere for it to go – all that heat. All that panic.
There came the scent of burning flesh.
Talisa screamed.
‘No!’ Sera tried to rip her hand away, but Andreas covered it with his own, pressing all that angry, spitting magic into Talisa.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
The princess bucked. ‘MAKE IT STOP! IT BURNS!’
Silent tears streamed down Sera’s face as she wrestled with the prince. ‘Let go, Andreas! It’s killing her!’
‘Fight through it!’ yelled the prince. His eyes were wide and wild, sweat beading on his brow. ‘You have to fight through it!’
There was smoke now, the wound so deep it burned away the linen of her dress, charring the skin beneath. Talisa’s heartbeat stuttered, her pulse fading under Sera’s palm. Desperate now, she slammed her head backwards, finding the prince’s nose with a sickeningcrack!just as Theo lunged from his chair, tackling Andreas by the shoulders. He knocked him off Sera, his fists already swinging as he pinned him to the floor.
Then Val was there, dragging Talisa out from under Seraphine.
Mercenaries swept in, drawing their swords as Theo and Andreas swung at each other, spitting and cursing as they rolled across the ground. The connection finally severed, Sera crawled away from Talisa. Curling her fists, she willed her magic to recede, for the raging heat inside her to pass – and quickly.
Remarkably, the princess was not yet dead.
She could only whimper now, her small pale hands feebly clutching at her charred chest. It had split open, and between the burnt ridges of her skin, Sera could see the white of her ribcage. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth, adding a gurgle to her laboured breaths.
Lark alone remained unruffled by the sight. Rising slowly from his chair, he stepped over the keening princess and walked right off the dance floor, like the spectacle had simply bored him. He returned, carrying a pitcher of water, just as the mercenaries managed to drag Theo off Andreas.
