Page 6 of The Rebel and the Rose
She looked to the water to hide the colour in her cheeks. Illicit memories crowded in on her, and for a fleeting moment, she was back in that alleyway, pressed against the cool stone wall as he trailed his lips along her neck, kissing the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
Ransom.Bastian. Those autumn eyes. That scar-flecked smile. Shadows crawling up his legs, wreathing his chest…
Killer. Lover. Enemy.
She would save him, too.
Whether he liked it or not.
‘You worry about Ransom, Trouble, and I’ll worry about my stiff joints.’
Sera laughed, despite herself. She liked the old smuggler more than she was expecting to.
‘Tell me, is Halbracht as beautiful as Aberville?’ asked Othilde.
Seraphine weighed her answer. ‘It’s wilder than here. There are waterfalls and evergreens, cliffs and caves, and even the occasional brown bear. The animals there roam freely. I suppose it’s less like a fairy tale and more like… a great adventure.’
The smuggler’s dark eyes glittered.
‘It’s quite a journey from here. Three days at best. And that’s if the frost up north continues to melt…’
Othilde was already turning from her. ‘I’ll gather my things. You gather your thoughts.’
Sighing, Sera watched her go. How badly she wished someone had made this same offer to her – to Mama – before everything spiralled out of hand. She would have leaped at the chance to rewrite their destiny. Hell, she would have dragged Mama out of their farmhouse if she had to.
Her chest warmed, a familiar flare of frustration stoking her magic. Sparks danced along her palms.Maker, whispered that ancient voice inside her. The one she had first heard the night the Aurore came down – the night she fell with it.Choose me. Use me.
Addled by an all-too-familiar confusion, Sera plucked a weed from the reeds and turned it in her hands. Watched itchange from green to gold, the wide, flat head twisting into the delicate petals of a rose.
It glittered in the sunlight, the strange magic holding its shape as she tossed it onto the frozen lake. A fleeting trick. But that voice inside Sera had gone quiet again, seeming satisfied.
These flowers were no great creation but they were the best she could make.Allshe could make. Sometimes she gifted one to Theo when he was hard at work in the barn back at Halbracht, to Bibi when she was sad and missing House Armand, or to Val, whenever she wanted to piss her off.
‘Have I caught you mooning over your reflection?’ Bibi called, coming out of the trees, her long red hair tangling in the wind. She adjusted her scarf, allowing Sera a glimpse of the golden teardrop necklace around her neck. A precious bead of Lightfire worn by every member of their Order of Flames, whenever they strayed beyond the safety of Halbracht.
‘More like basking in our success,’ Sera called back. ‘Othilde is coming back with us.’
Bibi did a victory skip, before leaning down to ruffle Pippin’s fur. Her brows lowered when she spotted the golden rose sitting on the lake. ‘Who is that one for?’
Sera shrugged, turning from the lake. ‘Saint Oriel can decide.’
Bibi cut her eyes at her. ‘You should know better than anyone, Sera… taunting a Dagger is like playing with fire.’
A smile danced along Sera’s lips.
Some things, she just couldn’t help.
Chapter 2Ransom
Othilde Eberhard was as old as the hills of Valterre. A seasoned trader with good prices and prompt delivery, her reliability made her one of the best in the trade. Even at eighty years old and with gnarled hands and fading eyesight, she never missed a shipment.
Until after the Aurore fell.
Ransom didn’t notice at first. Barely a few months into his new role as Head of the Order of Daggers, he had other matters to worry about. Like explaining to the King of Valterre how Gaspard Dufortandthe Aurore Tower – Valterre’s long-treasured symbol of light and hope – had both met their end on the same night. And of course, there was also the matter of the terrifying swarm of monsters that had marched through the city and ransacked the catacombs, decimating almosta third of the Order of Daggers and lighting the spark of a rebellion that continued to worsen by the week.
Unease festered across Fantome. And it was catching.
No, Ransom was not thinking about Othilde Eberhard at all.
