Page 34 of The Rebel and the Rose
She felt, rather than saw, the sharpened attention of others in the room. Their breaths were loud in the silence as she was manoeuvred in smaller steps. Her hip bumped the edge of a table.
Her guard’s voice then, too close to her ear. ‘Behave. Or I have orders to run you through with my sword.’
Sera resisted the urge to jerk her head back and shatter his nose as his hands came to her shoulders, shoving her roughly into a chair.
Beside her, Theo received the same treatment.
The sack was ripped from her head, taking several strands of hair with it. Wincing at the flare of light, she blinked furiously, catching quick glimpses of her surroundings. A dining room more splendid than any she had ever seen. Lush forest-green wallpaper and gilt-framed oil paintings. A crackling fireplace and a three-tiered chandelier dripping from a high corniced ceiling.
Across the table, someone cleared their throat.
Sera jerked her chin down.
What little breath she had left her.
Ransom Hale was sitting directly across from her.
There was a Dagger on either side of him, a woman Sera knew as Nadia Raine, and a tall lethal-looking man she couldn’t place. She paid them little mind, the sudden violent tug in her chest dragging her attention back tohim. It was like seeing the sun rise after an endless night, his handsomeness so acute that for a moment, she felt punched through with longing.
But those eyes…Saints. Those honeyed eyes that had once looked upon her with such naked desire now burned with firelight and rage.
All of it for her.
Confusion careened over Sera. Why in Saint Oriel’s name was Ransom Hale sitting across from her in the king’s royaldining room? Looking thoroughlyunaccosted– well kempt and well rested, without a single dark hair out of place. He looked good. Too good.
On his right-hand side, Nadia looked good too. Apart from the vicious scowl on her face. The other Dagger looked faintly amused. A thick scar spiderwebbed the entire left side of his shorn head, but it was not a recent injury.
Was Ransom behind her kidnapping? Had he ordered the bruises that now marred her face in revenge for the smugglers she had stolen from under his nose? For the Lightfire that would soon destroy his hold on the city?
Did he think her a rebel too?
The deep sting of betrayal made her stiffen in her seat. Shoving down her traitorous simmering attraction to him, she returned his glare with as much ferocity as she could muster. She wanted to tell him to wipe that murderous look off his face. He had no right to judge her for anything she had done these last few months. Not while those hands of his were covered in fresh shadow-marks. And there were more still through the V of his shirt. At least twice as many kills than weeks since they had last seen each other.
Theo grunted as the bag was removed from his head. A quick side-glance revealed his silver hair was stained red from an ugly gash on his forehead. A deep bruise marred the underside of his jaw and his shirt had been ripped down to his breastbone. His turquoise eyes were narrowed, filled with the same hatred that shone at them from across the table.
Three Daggers. Two Flames. Four soldiers standing straight-backed against the walls, silently observing them.
Ransom’s attention remained entirely on Sera, his eyes flicking along her face, like he was counting her cuts and bruises. Cataloguing his victories, no doubt. She bit down on her gag, hating her forced silence.
Last autumn, they had spent weeks trying to kill each other across the quarters of Fantome, traded vicious insults and even bloodied wounds. And yet, in all that time, she had never seen the Dagger look so…feral.
And his eyes weren’t even silver.
Without a lick of Shade in his system, Ransom Hale was entirely himself. Clear-headed and hazel-gazed, and all the more menacing for it.
‘Redreallyis your colour, Seraphine.’ Breaking the strained silence, Nadia offered a leering smirk. ‘I love how all that blood turns your hair pink.’
Theo grunted around his gag.
Sera let the barb wash over her. She knew she was blood-soaked. It was hardly a surprise that the Dagger would enjoy the sight of it, after what had happened with Lark at the Aurore. She refused to give her the satisfaction of flinching.
Ransom’s fingers slowly curled into fists, drawing Sera’s attention to the gaudy skull ring on his left hand. The same ring her father had worn as Head of the Daggers. Revulsion prickled along her skin. She looked away, towards the empty seat at the top of the table. It was high-backed and lined in red velvet. Guarded, even now, by two stern-faced soldiers.
Was the king truly coming? Or was this spectacle some kind of grand power play arranged by the Daggers? In the fog of her mind, she didn’t know which was worse. Only that shewas seated too close to the fireplace. Smoke thinned the air, snatching away the oxygen she so desperately needed.
She inhaled sharply, her lungs contracting as they struggled for breath. Nadia was still talking. Ransom was silent. Seething. Theo was struggling against his binds.
Sera’s vision started to blur.
