Page 55 of The Rebel and the Rose
Of course Sera knew her Order would end up pissing people off. She was upending the most prolific trade in Fantome, casting a flame into its dark underbelly and flushing out all who thrived there. She just hadn’t imagined it would coincide with a city in revolt, or that there’d be quite somanyactive bounties on her head. That Ransom Hale would be the sole arbiter of her fate.
It occurred to her that he was just one quick kill away from being averyrich man.
She raised her chin. ‘Why drag this out any longer? Here’s your free shot.’
‘That would be counterintuitive.’
‘Why?’
He threw her a contemptuous look. ‘Because I’m the oneprotectingyou,’ he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I’ve been protecting you formonths. I’mstillprotecting you.’ He held up his stained hands, turning them from front to back. Even his palms were riddled. At her continued silence, he ripped the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing the shadow-marks there. They looked deep, and painful, as bad as the oneson his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves to show those too. Marked, all of him. Damned, every bit of him. Much worse than before – so much worse.Saints above, how was there any humanity left in him at all?
‘I wilfullywreck my one eternal soul– as you so creatively put it – because it keeps me in power. And when I’m the one in power,youare allowed to live. Wherever the hell you feel like, doing whatever the hell you want.’ He shook his head, his lip curling. ‘Hell’s teeth, Seraphine. What part of that don’t you get? You arefree. And I’m the one paying for it.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Her own anger burst out of her. ‘I asked you to come with me. To leave the Daggers behind. Ibeggedyou.’ His choices were his alone. Hiskillswere his, even if they were in some kind of twisted service to her. She had never asked him to protect her. She had never wantedthis.
She was breathing too fast, her heart hammering like a drum. Beneath her anger, guilt pricked at her. Shewasfree, and he was her living sacrifice. But this wasn’t her fault… it wasn’t her doing…
It wasn’tfair.
Magic yawned inside her, heat kissing her blood. She felt it in her throat, hot and insistent. Impatiently, it roiled, and for an absurd moment, she felt like a dragon, ready to spit fire.
Maker, it crooned.
Take him.
Make him.
‘You’re right.’ The resignation in Ransom’s voice cut through the chaos inside her, the wounded look in his eyes quelling the bite of her rage. ‘My undoing is my own.’ He slumped in hisseat, dragging his hands across his face. ‘I never used to get angry like this. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing control of myself. Losing the man I used to be.’
She couldn’t tear her gaze from the marks on his hands. They were changing him. Ruining him.
Regret needled her. She had been too cavalier with her words, too free with her judgement. Wounded him because the sight of that skull ring flashing on his left hand wounded her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t simple. That was the problem.
Opening the curtains, he turned to watch the countryside flitting by, like the sheep there were of sudden fascination.
‘I shouldn’t have said that stuff about your soul,’ she said quietly. ‘I wasn’t trying to hurt you… It’s just… whenever I see that ring on your hand, I feel like I’m back in the catacombs looking at my father.’
Ransom’s eyes were glazed. Was he even listening to her?
‘Hey?’ She leaned forward without thinking. His shadows parted, like they were afraid of her. When she touched his knee, her fingers sparked. The darkness disintegrated, there and gone in the blink of an eye.
She reeled backwards, caught in the sudden flood of afternoon light.
Ransom swung his head around. ‘Your eyes.’
Bright gold. She could feel the heat behind them. Touching Ransom’s Shade had brought her magic rushing to the fore. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to go away again.
‘Seraphine.’ The seat creaked as he moved closer, a quiet command in his voice. ‘Look at me.’
She shook her head, keeping her eyes shut. ‘No thanks.’
He drew closer still, his broad hands bracketing her thighs on the bench. ‘Seraphine,’ he whispered. ‘I dare you to let me look longingly into your eyes.’
A shiver went through her.
He was way too close, his thumbs brushing the thin material of her trousers, his breath warm against her lips. ‘I know what you are, Seraphine.’
‘What, hungry?’ she said, weakly.
