Page 146 of The Rebel and the Rose
Too hazy in here now.
Soldiers swarmed the tightening space, appearing as if from nowhere. They floated through the smoke, making a circle around them. Ransom turned, coming face to face with the Queen of Valterre. Her eyes were black.
Dead.
Already dead.
Fuck.
Not soldiers but corpses. Bodies impervious to fire and smoke. They advanced on him, dead arms flailing as they swung in every direction. He ducked a flying fist only to crash into another one, the sickening crack of a dislocated shouldernothing to a man who was already dead. Ransom weathered the blow to his jaw, righting himself as more corpses came, fast and swinging.
Somewhere nearby, Lark was laughing.
The prince had disappeared, hidden behind the wall of the dead.
Ransom had to get away from them. His thoughts slowing, he turned and stumbled straight into Bibi. Her blank, black eyes looked right through him.
Fuck.
Bibi raised her fist. He caught it with his own, stilling her assault. She began to sway. The corpses around them seemed to be running out of steam. Lark must be fleeing too.
‘Seraphine!’ Ransom yelled between wheezes. ‘SERAPHINE!’
As the fire surged, bodies fell one by one. Snapping his head up, Ransom spied a hole in the ceiling, where the stars shone through.
Air.
Clean air.
He sucked down a breath, his eyes streaming from the smoke. The moon was on his side. Silver shards slipped through the cracks in the stone like torchlight. Across the ballroom, he spied Versini staggering back towards the doorway. Anouk flopped like a doll in his arms, while Val hobbled close behind, leaning heavily on Tobias.
Ransom’s surge of gratefulness was short-lived, his thoughts tunnelling to one single pounding thought:Seraphine. He would go up in flames if he had to, crawl the length of thisroom on his hands and knees until his lungs gave out, but he was not leaving here without her.
Because shewashere.
He could feel it in his blood and bones. In every painful beat of his heart. And that’s when he felt it – that insistent tug in his chest.
There.
There.
Look and see.
He raised his chin, as if to follow it.
He saw her then, as plain as a fallen star. In the middle of the ballroom, half buried beneath the bodies of two mercenaries, lay the body of Seraphine Marchant.
High above her, the ceiling was starting to collapse.
Chapter 37Ransom
Smoke seared Ransom’s eyes and licked his skin as he crawled to Seraphine. Frantically calling her name, he dragged the bodies away, then cupped her face between his hands.
‘Come on, spitfire. Wake up,’ he said against her lips. ‘Wake up and fight.’
She groaned, slowly coming to.
‘Hey,’ he said, lifting her arms around his neck. ‘Stay with me. We’re getting out of here.’
