Page 94 of The Rebel and the Rose
Caruso barked a laugh.
Val jabbed her finger at him. ‘That goes for you too, brute.’
‘Outfits aside, we’re forgetting onecrucialpoint,’ said Nadia. ‘Since Andreas is a saint, our Shade will be useless against him. If things go the way they did in that graveyard, we’re going to need weapons.’
Val nodded at Caruso. ‘That one can snap his neck like a tree branch.’
Caruso flashed a menacing smile. ‘Thanks, kitten.’
She flung a candle at his head and he caught it without flinching.
Before Val could throw something else, Sera rose from the table. ‘Right, then. Let’s get on with it.’
‘I look like a cupcake.’ Sera surveyed herself in the mirror of their suite at the Paramour. Bedecked in a cascading red skirt and matching laced corset, it took her a moment to recognize herself. Her long blonde hair hung in loose curls, and Val had smudged kohl underneath her eyes, adding a touch of rouge to her lips and cheeks.
In the mirror, Val’s reflection beamed back at her. ‘I know. And now for the final touch.’
Val slung a lavender feathered scarf around her own neck, twirling for full effect. She was dressed similarly to Sera, except her corset was violet and her skirt was black. Her boots were high, and her hair was bouncier than Sera had ever seen it. Somehow, she carried off the look like a seductive siren, and not a befrilled baked good that had been cursed to life. Although Sera supposed what mattered most was not her own vanity, but that she looked like every other reveller in Marvale tonight, rather than the king’s former prisoner turned would-be assassin.
Theo, who was slicking his hair back in the adjoining bathroom, ducked around the doorframe. ‘If you want a gentleman’s opinion, you both look like a pair of haunted dolls.’
Turning to glare at him, Sera readied a taunt of her own but as usual, Theo Versini looked damn good. He was wearing a black suit with tails, with shiny, sharp-toed shoes, and a top hat tucked under his arm.
‘You look…’
‘Dashing? Suave? Eye-wateringly handsome?’
‘Expensive,’ she decided.
Val sashayed over to him and stuck a purple feather in his front pocket. ‘Perfect.’
He came to stand beside Sera in the mirror. For a moment, all three of them stood in silence, taking in their reflections.
‘We are a long way from Halbracht,’ said Sera. Yet that voice deep inside told her she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
The Daggers were waiting for them on the street outside. It was three hours until midnight and the town had come alive. The flowery trellis-lined streets were strewn with giggling women in full-tiered skirts and boned corsets, their necks slung with beads and feathered scarves that trailed along the cobbles. Elsewhere, gentlemen ambled about in crooked top hats and tails, pressing their waning luck with beautiful courtesans far beyond their stations. A constant chorus of raucous laughter rang through the vibrant streets, buoying that tenuous hope inside Sera.
She felt Ransom’s eyes on her the minute she stepped onto the street. He moved as if shoved by an invisible hand, his shadow stepping into light, until they were so close that she had to remind herself to breathe.
In the half-light, he seemed a little pained. ‘You look…’
‘Do not make fun of me,’ she warned him.
‘Like a dream,’ he said quietly.
She blinked up at him in surprise. ‘One of your nightmares, you mean?’
A smile danced along his lips. ‘Definitely not.’
She stood back to look him over. He wore no suit or tails.Just plain black trousers, black boots, and a simple double-breasted waistcoat with a silver chain, over a crisp white shirt. His dark hair was lightly tousled and he was freshly shaven.
‘I know. No top hat,’ he said, reading into her silence. ‘As Head of the Daggers, I have to retain some dignity.’
‘What about weapons?’
‘More than you can possibly imagine, spitfire.’
‘Let’s hope you won’t need them.’
