Page 76 of The Dragon and the Dove

‘You took from Saint Oriel.’

‘And you took from Seraphine Marchant.’ He waved a hand in dismissal. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘I’m not an unrelenting tyrant.’

A bland smile. ‘Then tell me, Versini, what are you?’

His magic hissed, demanding to be known.

Cleaver.

Taker.

Corpse-maker.

Curling his fists until his nails bit into his palms, Theo shoved it back down.

‘Ah.’ A knowing glance. ‘You don’t yet know, do you?’

Outside, the storm raged. Shadows darted through the low-hanging clouds, snatching at the moonlight. A distant shriek rang out.

Andreas glanced over his shoulder, as a pair of soldiers appeared through a side door.

‘Darius has come, Your Highness.’

Theo moved towards the window, watching in horror as the sky came alive. The Strix were settling on the Appoline, and the largest of them was heading for the clock tower.

‘What are you up to, Andreas?’

The prince was already turning from him, flanked now by his soldiers. They drew their swords, moving on him. Theo stumbled backwards, grasping for his dagger. Too slow.

Andreas raised a hand, halting them mid-strike.

Another act. A show of the Silver-tongue’s power—

And his mercy.

‘When you’re ready to embrace your destiny, come and find me at Bellevue Castle. I could do with another clever mind to bounce ideas off. I find them sorely lacking in my court.’

‘Puppets are not known to think for themselves.’

The prince looked him up and down. ‘But you are no puppet.’

‘I’m not a traitor either,’ Theo snarled. ‘What makes you think I’d ever want to work alongside a tyrant like you?’

‘Because I can give you what your friends cannot.’ Andreas waited a beat, caressing the next word, ‘Greatness.’

Greatness, echoed the old voice.

That hunger returned. Awful. Aching.

‘You will come to me sooner or later, Versini.’ There was an edge to his voice now, a desperate thirst Theo recognized in himself. ‘Because as long as you bear her handprint on your chest, you will belong to her. She will own you, but she will never want you. She will never choose you. You will always be second to the Saint of Nightmares, and one day, when the dark eats through the last vestiges of his conscience, he’ll kill you for standing too close to her.’

He recoiled from the prince’s words, hating how they wounded him. Terrified that he might be right.

Andreas went on. ‘You will come to me, Versini, because you know what you’re worth.’ He stepped in close, and it occurred to Theo that he could have killed him then, or at least made a fair attempt, but curiosity stayed his hand. He stood rooted to the floor, staring into the gold pools of the prince’s eyes, as he said, softer still, ‘And better still, so do I.’

There was a moment then when magic recognized magic, and that word – that goal – of greatness shimmered between them.