The Dagger and the Flame (The City of Fantome, #1)

by Catherine Doyle

Can I interest you in this charming bouquet? They’re dead, like your soul.

Somehow, you’re even more annoying in cursive.

It was of her. Not as she was now, gaping at the piece of paper in her hands, but at that moment not long before, when he had offered to let her trace his scar, the words sending a violent flush of heat through her and scrambling all the thoughts in her head. Somehow he had captured that moment, feasted on it. The expression on the drawing—on her face—was not fear. Or anger. It was desire.

“Seraphine!” He skidded to a halt in the middle of the courtyard, shadows trailing in his wake. “Don’t make me drag you back to me!”

She spun around, wild-eyed and breathless. Beautiful. Fuck.

He hummed in response, then turned slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm.

Sera’s heart stuttered. His lips were cool, but the soft touch of them against her damp skin lit a fire inside her that devoured all thought. He opened his eyes, finding hers. “Thank you for trying.”

The monsters bow to the power of Lightfire. Become the flame and destroy the dark, Seraphine.

Or perhaps his unwillingness to harm her was born of something far simpler… something far more dangerous. Perhaps, beneath the logic of it all, Lisette was right. He did want her. He wanted to take her more than he wanted to kill her. It was all he could do not to think about kissing her. Tasting the fire of her just to see what it would do to him. What she would do to him.

And saints damn her, she liked it. She wanted more of it.

Why was he worried? Why did he save her? Why did he kiss her? Why did he look so achingly handsome soaking wet?

“I’ve never killed anyone.” “Not for lack of trying.”

He followed her line of sight. “Do you want to see my scar, Seraphine?” Her throat tightened. “You can’t lift up your shirt in here,” she said in a strangled voice. “So pious,” he said, with a chuckle. “But you’re probably right. I’d hate to scandalize our saints.”

“Wicked game,” he breathed against her lips. “Have you ever kissed anyone in a church, Seraphine?”

You lust-addled Neanderthal. You’re standing in a fucking tomb.

“Two more minutes.” She frowned. They had the journal, and now the coast was clear. “Why do we need to wait—” “For this,” he said, kissing her.

when the time comes, you will rise far above this wicked city and become a flame in the dark. You will be the Aurore, Seraphine.

“You came back,” she called out. He cocked his head. “After that kiss, did you really think I could stay away?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were luring me into this forest to kill me.” “I can think of far better things to do with you in this forest,” she tossed over her shoulder, swinging her hips for good measure. He stifled a groan. “You promised not to tempt me.”

She made her tongue work, forcing the words out before shame got the better of her. “Because Gaspard Dufort is my father.”

“So if he truly is like a father to you,” she went on, in a cold voice, “then you should know he likes to kill his own children when they get in his way.”

“If I speak…,” said Ransom, very, very slowly. Darkness swarmed the clearing, the gathering tide of his anger. A branch snapped behind him, torn to the ground by one of his shadows. And he hadn’t so much as blinked. “If I even dare to move right now, I’m afraid I might tear this entire forest down so I can shove every fucking branch down that bastard’s throat.”

“It changed him. It changed who he wanted to become. It wasn’t enough to be a good husband or a loving father anymore. To have a house out in the plains, a good horse, and a field of sheep… He wanted a dynasty. He wanted to be remembered.”

“And then he changed some more. He stopped laughing and started shouting. He stopped kissing Mama and started hitting her. Stopped playing teddies with me and started shaking me like one. He got cruel… violent.”

“Mama knew she would have to destroy Dufort to save us. So, she made monsters to bring him to heel. Discovered the secret of Lightfire and set the stage for his demise.” Sera’s heart felt so hollow now she pressed a hand against it just to feel it beat. “But he got to her first.”

“I won’t let him hurt you again. I swear it.”

she saw that his knuckles were absent of shadow-marks. She grabbed the other hand, examining his wrist and forearm. There wasn’t a single whorl left.

“Run away with me,” he said, with devasting simplicity. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Yesterday. I don’t care.” He gently brushed the hair from her eyes. “We have the same dream. Let’s chase it together.”

“Keep your fucking hands off her!” said Ransom, dodging the next blow before landing one of his own with a sickening crack.

“For ten years, I’ve prayed to Saint Oriel,” he said, as if he was telling her a secret. “Asking her for a better life than this one. For a kinder fate. The courage to chase it. I never really believed she could hear me down here in the dark, or that even if she could, she would ever bend her ear to the pleas of a Dagger. I almost gave up.” He laid his forehead against hers. “And then you came barreling over the horizon like a runaway sun. You shattered the darkness, Seraphine. And I realize now that all these years I wasn’t wishing for freedom. I was wishing for you.”

When the time comes, you will rise far above this wicked city and become a flame in the dark. You will be the Aurore, Seraphine.

If he stayed and took that ring for his own, he would be able to stand between Seraphine and the Order of Daggers. Not just a leader, but a shield.

“On the contrary, Bastian. I think it matters now, more than ever.” He shook off her words and walked on, even as they floated after him. “The strands of destiny are not yet done with you.”