Page 146 of The Dragon and the Dove

The soothsayer frowned. ‘That part, I’m afraid, is not down to us.’

Chapter 41 Theo

From the formal dining room in the east wing of Bellevue Castle, Theo could see for miles. Beyond the forest, farmland seemed to go on for ever, spilling into a patchwork of cornfields and vineyards that kissed the horizon.

‘Surely the view does not compare with your present company,’ drawled Andreas.

Pulling his gaze from the window, Theo looked down the dining table at the Silver-tongue Saint. ‘I’m afraid you are decidedly less bucolic.’

They were halfway through dinner: a generous spread of root vegetables, lamb shank, whipped potatoes and wine gravy.

‘Are you looking for my Strix?’ Andreas effortlessly unpicked the root of his curiosity. ‘They do not roam the fields like common hens.’

Theo stabbed a carrot with his fork. ‘Good to know.’

‘I trust your journey here was pleasant,’ said Andreas, taking a bite of his lamb. The fleshy meat spilled red juice over his lips.

Theo’s stomach turned. ‘Your soldiers were kind to escort me in one of their carriages.’ One had been waiting for him by the east gate of the city.

The prince’s serpentine smile gleamed in the candlelight. ‘I knew you’d come to me. I told Lark to watch out for you.’

‘I think it pained him not to kill me on sight.’

‘He does have a nasty habit of lashing out.’ Andreas pulled a face. ‘I’m afraid all that rot has got into his brain.’

Theo couldn’t bring himself to care. He watched the prince devour his lamb, his magic stirring all the while. Now that he had wheedled his way into Andreas’s company again, the reason for his presence here was top of mind.

Rip out his soul.

Drink it down.

Andreas watched him like he knew it, smirking as he sucked the juice off his lamb bone. Between them, twelve stiff-backed Rose-bearers watched over their meal with rigid impassivity. Poised to strike, no doubt, if he tried anything… well, murderous.

‘Did you enjoy the parade?’

‘I’ve seen better.’

‘I’m sure you’ve danced to your fair share of peasant reels up in those mountains you call home.’

‘We peasants do love to dance,’ he said, evenly. ‘Even when we’re not compelled.’

Andreas leaned back in his chair. ‘You must admit it was a clever ploy.’

‘It certainly caught me by surprise.’

As well as Tobias, who had taken an assassin’s arrow to his back. The memory rankled.

‘It’s no great skill to trick a dolt. But to catch a Versini unawares. Well…’ Andreas tipped his goblet. ‘That pleases me.’

Theo hated how the compliment stirred something primal inside him. How he sat a little straighter afterwards.

‘Your maker was lucky to survive Saints’ Day,’ Andreas went on, souring. ‘Seraphine Marchant should have struck me when she had the chance. Instead, she ran out of this castle like a dog on the heels of Ransom Hale.’

Theo was careful not to react. Dissecting a parsnip, he let the silence linger, so Andreas might fill it with something useful.

‘Or perhaps Seraphine is smarter than she lets on,’ he mused. ‘She must have figured out that killing me now will only cement her own doom.’

Theo frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’