Page 80 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But I believe whoever stole Lark’s body back in Old Haven might be here. Somewhere in the north-west.’
Ransom tensed, the muscles in his back straining. ‘The prince?’
‘Perhaps. Perhaps not.’ She traced the Silver-tongue with her finger. It was a better fit for the prince, according to the rumours in the capital, and the king’s own words. ‘We won’t know until we meet him.’
‘You mean kill him.’
She lifted her gaze from the cards. Doubt glistened there. He could see it now, as plain as the moon looking over them. She did not intend to kill the prince at all. And she was ready for him to know it. It’s not like he had expected her to do it with her own hands; he didn’t need her to. But it had never occurred to him that she might try and stop him.
‘Seraphine…’
‘There’s one more card,’ she said hastily, laying down a fourth.
A red rose, gilded at the edges.
Ransom stared at it with mounting confusion.
‘Saint Oriel’s flower. It’s the oldest and truest emblem of Valterre, from a time before this land was conquered by kings and queens, torn apart by war and unrest, rebuilt and flooded with greed and avarice. When the Rayeres came to power, they crossed two swords in front of the rose and made it their crest. A mixing of nature and man, of beauty and force.’ She traced the petals, like she could feel them. ‘Madame Fontaine says the rose means a new beginning. A sign that things are changing.’ A beat of hesitation, then, her words softened like she was telling him a secret. ‘That perhaps things aremeantto change.’
‘How so?’ said Ransom, though he sensed where this was going.
‘A thousand years ago, Oriel wrote of the second coming of the saints. A new era of light for our kingdom, after centuries of man-made dark. Bad magic. Destructive power.’ She was gazing at his hands now, silently tracing the menacing black whorls there. ‘If we kill Andreas and the acolyte on the Isle of Alisa, we’ll be moving against destiny itself.’
Ransom inhaled. ‘Seraphine—’
‘Wait,’ she pleaded. ‘Let me say this. I have to.’ She swallowed hard, and he saw now that her hands were trembling. ‘I think it was destiny – Saint Oriel herself – who brought us together all those months ago, Ransom.’ Her eyes were so large now, so soft and full of moonlight. It was like he could see all the wayinto her soul. He had asked her to let him in, and here she sat, offering him her innermost thoughts with a vulnerability that stilled his tongue. She really believed their coming together was the work of divine intervention, and the truth of it was, a part of him did too. There was nothing ordinary about their connection, or the tug he felt inside himself whenever she was near.
Finally, she understood. They were not meant to be enemies, to constantly push and pull like restless animals. They were destined to find common ground, to survive this quest together. He was beginning to smile, to feel the welcome flutter of relief when she said, ‘I don’t think Oriel wanted us to kill her saints, Ransom. I think she wanted us to save them.’
He frowned, surprise rendering him momentarily speechless.
She turned her hands over, absently tracing the lines on her palm. ‘I don’t know where I fit in Fontaine’s tarot spread or what this strange magic inside me is yet, but I know I can’t use it to harm another saint.’ A pause then, a sudden fierceness hardening her voice. ‘Ransom, Iwon’t.’
He stifled a groan. ‘It’s too late, Seraphine.’
‘How can it be? We haven’t done anything.’
It hardly mattered. ‘The king is testing you. Testing both of us.’ It was not up to them. It never had been.
She shrugged his words off. ‘I would rather betray a man like Bertrand Rayere than spit in the face of fate itself. It’s not like we’d be the only ones denying him. Soon, the entire kingdom will be in revolt.’
Ransom struggled to find that common ground that had seemed so close only a moment ago, but he couldn’t fathomthe scale of the risk, or why she would want to take it. ‘You wish to ally yourself with a violent, untried insurgent, who scatters rebels across the kingdom like marbles while remaining safe and cosseted in Marvale?’ he said, shaking his head. ‘An acolyte who murdered her own sister? Anecromancerwho pulls dead bodies from the ground and plays with them like dolls?’
He might have laughed if she didn’t look so damn serious. ‘You have no idea what these people are capable of, Seraphine. Just because they’re like you doesn’t mean they’re the same as you.’ She was scowling now, the moonlight in her eyes like shards of steel. ‘You heard what the provost said back at the Appoline. Even he doesn’t trust the prince. A man he has known foryears.’
‘What if Andreasisgood, Ransom?’ she said, refusing to back down. ‘What if the kingdom is supposed to change, and he’s the catalyst?’
‘What if he’s not good?’ Ransom shot back. ‘What if he’s poisoned by the same ambition as his uncle? Do you want a power-mad emperor instead of a mortal king?’
She threw her hands up. ‘And what about me? Am I not as bad? I’ve had months to figure out this magic inside me and I still can’t control it. All I’ve done is hurt people with it.’ She closed her eyes, shame casting a blush in her cheeks. ‘Maybe I’m a mistake.’
Ransom bristled. ‘You are not a mistake.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘I understand well enough. You’re wagering on a better world emerging from a ruthless rebellion and you’re gamblingwith your own life. If you stand with Andreas, you tie your fate to him.’
‘Look at me,’ she hissed, those eyes flickering from blue to gold. ‘I’m already tied to his fate.’
