Page 76 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘All right?’ She prodded him again. ‘Is that all you have to say?’
‘What do you want me to say, Seraphine?’
‘That you’re going to punish Caruso. That what he did was unforgivable. That itbothersyou.’ Standing back from the heat of his body, she scraped her hands through her hair. ‘Saints, Ransom. Why the hell doesn’t it bother you?’
‘What makes you think it doesn’t?’ he said, evenly.
‘Everything I know about you.’
He jerked like she had hit him.
She turned around again, ignoring the furious thudding in her chest. A part of her wanted to cry. She didn’t know if it was the sudden nearness of her own grief or the reminder that the man she liked beyond reason was a cruel and deadly killer – that he might always be just that.
‘Hey.’ He jogged to keep up. ‘Talk to me.’ His voice was soft now, his expression imploring.
She stopped beside the deserted doughnut stall, where the grass was powdered with sugar, and the rest of the carnival felt miles away. Her throat bobbed, her tears threatening to spill over. She rubbed her chest, trying to soothe the ache there.
Her magic flared again, that door inside her widening.
Maker, it whispered. She felt it reaching out. Not for her. For him.
She shoved it back.No.
Ransom was looking at her again, his dark brows knitting. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
Huffing, she thew her hands up. Where to begin? How to explain that she felt like a player in a game she didn’t understand. Like every move she was making was the wrong one. That she was hurting the people around her, drawn to a man who would always be wed to the darkness. A man who might one day turn into the monster her father had become. A man who had sworn to murder the only two people in Valterre – the only two saints – who had any shred of an inkling about what she was going through. About what lay on the other side of all this confusion.
‘I hate this,’ she said. ‘All this death and fear andterror. I feel like I can’t relax. Like I’ll never get away from it.’
He canted his head. ‘Do you feel afraid, Seraphine?’
It was worse than that. ‘I feelhopeless.’
He moved closer, crowding out the rest of the fairground until it was just the two of them, and the honeyed softness of his eyes. ‘Let me help.’
Her laugh was a bitter thing. ‘How can you help when you’re part of the problem?’
This, of everything she had hurled at him, seemed to wound him the most. Looking away, he scrubbed a hand across his jaw. ‘I don’t want to be part of the problem. But if you don’t tell me what’s going on with you, then how can I solve it?’ He was so close now, close enough that she could feel the warmth rolling off his body, smell the peppermint on his breath.
She swayed, wondering what he would do if she confided in him about her magic, about her deep, tunnelling fear of the beast that slumbered inside her. If she asked him, here and now, to spare Prince Andreas. To spare the acolyte on the Isle of Alisa. To give up the lure of Shade and hang his loyalty to the Crown. To his friends. Let the saints of Valterre live. Let the new age dawn, so that she might find her place in it.
It was madness to even consider it. And yet… she wavered.
He was still standing there, his hands flexing like he wanted to reach for her. ‘If you just let mein…’
Without meaning to, she laid her hand against his chest, not to prod this time. Or to shove. Just to feel the thrum of his heart beneath her fingers, to remind herself that he was human. Still Bastian. The Shade had not yet erased him. ‘I don’t know how,’ she whispered.
He took her hand in his, her magic leaping at his touch. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he brushed his lips against it. ‘Yes, you do,’ he said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. To the hand that had killed Lark, had maimed Ribauld. His touch was soft, so very gentle, like he was trying to show her what he was capable of. ‘You’re just afraid to try.’
And that was the truth, simple and stark.
Sera wanted to trust him, but she was afraid of the leap. Afraid of the fall. By the time she was ready to respond, he had already turned from her, his strides lengthening as he made his way back to the carriage.
Chapter 19Ransom
As they continued north, Ransom replayed his conversation at the fairground with Seraphine. How lost she had looked as she gazed up at him, her voice little more than a broken whisper.
I feel hopeless.
