Page 195 of The Dragon and the Dove

When she looked up, the others were watching her. The saints of Fantome made a ring around the fallen arch, as silent as statues in their grief:

Anouk, Saint of Clay.

Caruso, Saint of Warriors.

Nadia, Saint of Spring.

Paola, Saint of Storms.

Tobias, Saint of Beasts.

Valerie, Saint of Truth.

Bastian, Saint of Light.

And then there was Seraphine…

Unblessed. Unmade.

Ordinary.

Saved by Theo, Saint of Souls.

As evening fell and the city returned to itself, Tobias and Paola carried Theo’s body from the rubble. Mercure came in her carriage to take his body home to House Armand one last time. Ransom helped Sera to her feet, his arm strong and sure around her waist as they joined their Order and followed the Shadowsmith through the city.

For a long while they were quiet.

The city held its own vigil. Townsfolk came to carry off their dead, while others looked out over the quietening river, like they might find some solace there. The Rose-bearers laid down their weapons and picked up their fallen brethren, shouldering them through the darkening streets.

As they came to the end of Merchant’s Way and turned east towards the Hollows, Ransom bent his head towards Sera and murmured, ‘Look up.’

Sera, who had been in a daze for some time, tipped her head back just as a new creature took flight. Its glittering wings lit up the falling night, casting Lightfire over the mourning city. All across the four quarters of Fantome, people looked up at the message in the sky.

Not a dragon but a dove.

An ending to the pain and misery that had come before it.

A promise for all that lay ahead.

Peace.

Hope.

Freedom.

As the dove soared, it grew and grew, the last rays of sunset sparking off its wings until for a moment it looked like the entire city was shining.

Chapter 62 Seraphine

They buried Theo in Halbracht, beneath the Pinetops and the wild hawks, in a grave beside his mother and father. By the time Seraphine returned to Fantome, the last of the dead had been cleared from the streets, buried in the graveyards of Old Haven and beyond. The Rose-bearers had returned to their families, and the surviving Strix had retreated over the Western Ridge, making the crossing home.

Word had spread throughout Valterre about the Silver-tongue’s defeat, and as people returned to their senses, the town leaders prepared to gather.

At Seraphine’s invitation, they travelled to House Armand, where they talked long into the night. When the sun rose the following morning, a new ruling party had been established. They would be the Order of Seven. Among them three saints: Val, Saint of Truth, Anouk, Saint of Clay, and Paola, Saint of Storms; three provincial leaders: of Castellan, Marvale and Montmarie, and Seraphine Marchant. Together, on behalf of the people, they would rule over Valterre.

Without a king, they were no longer a kingdom but a republic. A country of equals. And so a new treaty was signed and ratified.

That same day, Seraphine and the saints returned to the heart of the city. There they stood along the waters of the Verne and watched Anouk rebuild the Bridge of Tears. It took four days of exhausting work, and four nights of restorative slumber. But each morning, when they returned at dawn to the riverbank, a crowd had gathered to watch their Stone Maiden at work.