Page 68 of The Dragon and the Dove

Ransom’s face was a mask of impassivity, but Sera felt his frustration in the crush of his fingers.

‘His glittering little trap has worked well, has it not?’ crooned Lisette. ‘The rats have gobbled up their poisonous cheese.’

To hell with it. Sera fired her dagger at her.

Nadia knocked it away. ‘Play nice, Seraphine.’

‘Fuck you, traitor.’

‘Well, this was fun.’ Lark’s gaze slid to Sera. ‘Time to go, little Maker.’

‘Over your own dead body,’ snarled Ransom.

An insolent shrug. ‘I’m already halfway there.’

Ransom skewered a finger at Nadia. ‘And hers.’

The shadows shifted, the swell of Ransom’s magic rippling against Sera’s spine. Lark might be immune to the Saint of Nightmares, but Nadia and Lisette were not.

The Necromancer took a measured step forward, shielding them with his body.

His grin turned menacing, his words edged with latent fury.

‘That,’ he growled, ‘was the last threat you’ll ever make.’

Chapter 15 Ransom

Gold eyes met gold eyes as Ransom stared down his former best friend.

Footsteps echoed on the stairwell as the Rose-bearers he’d killed on his way up returned sluggishly to their feet.

Yanking a sconce off the wall, Seraphine fought off their corpses.

With Saintkiller in his fist, Ransom went straight for the source. Shadows encircled them, forcing Nadia and Lisette back against the wall until Lark stood alone in the eye of Ransom’s hurricane, looking thoroughly unruffled.

He reached into his jacket pocket and with a flick of his wrist hurled a silver vial.

It smashed at Ransom’s feet, pluming into a grey cloud.

Ransom staggered backwards, gasping.

Lark struck like a viper, shoving him into the wall. The next vial flickered in the splintered moonlight as he tipped its contents directly into Ransom’s mouth.

Ransom retched, choking it down.

Fumes engulfed him, as thick and cold as frost. They seeped into his blood. His head.

Sera screamed as the world tilted.

Ransom fell to his knees and Saintkiller clattered to the floor.

When Ransom lifted his head, Lark had returned to the edge of the tower. Only now, Sera was with him, the Necromancer’s knife glinting at her throat.

Behind him, shadows gathered in the storm-swept night. Ransom swore he heard a shriek in the clouds.

Dread gathered in the pit of his soul.

Sera’s eyes were wide behind her mask.