Chapter 59 Ransom
Seraphine wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead. If she had passed beyond this world, then surely Ransom’s heart would have stopped beating too.
Following the thread in his chest, he waded through blood and dust and shattered rock, while his friends looked on in mournful silence.
No.
No.
Anouk was crying. Tobias and Paola were huddled over Theo Versini, who looked about as bad as Ransom felt. Val stood at the edge of the arch with Caruso and Nadia, her eyes filled with the kind of dread that told him the Saint of Truth knew something he refused to admit.
Fuck truth.
Fuck the saints.
And fuck you, Oriel.
He ploughed through the rubble, shouting her name. He found her body on the rocks, a rose petal plucked and discarded at the gates of the city. Not far from her, Andreas Mondragon Rayere lay dead.
Ransom came to his knees with his heart in his hands, like a beggar praying to the saints.
‘Seraphine.’ He brushed the blood-soaked hair from her face, traced the curve of her cheek. ‘Seraphine, please.’
Her skin was ice cold.
He trailed his finger down the column of her neck, finding her fading pulse.
No.
No.
‘Please.’ He whispered the word.
He tipped his head back to the heavens and roared it.
Was Oriel listening? Was she watching his heart break in two? Is this how she had always envisioned the grand sacrifice of her Saint-maker? Seraphine Marchant wrung out and tossed aside like a dishrag at the gates of the city.
Please don’t take her from me.
Too late, said the old voice. Let it be.
‘No,’ he growled. ‘No.’
He pulled her onto his lap, the limp collar of her shirt fluttering to reveal a glimpse of black beneath. Gently, so very gently, he traced the black vine along her sternum, and followed it to its end, right above her heart.
The thorn was bigger than all the others. A starburst of black ink that told him it was done. Her magic was spent. And the cost was her life. Her future.
His fucking heart.
‘Seraphine.’ Her name cracked on his lips. ‘Please.’
He held her tighter, her body splayed against his heart. He willed it to beat harder, enough for both of them.
‘Come on,’ he begged. ‘Come on.’
He would not let her go, not like this. Refusing to bow to the cruel demands of fate, Ransom ripped his dragon from the sky.
Pulled Lightfire from every inch of his bleeding soul until his power suffused them, bright and pure and blinding.
He bathed her in it, the tide of Lightfire lapping desperately at her skin.
Fix her, he begged his magic.
Save her.
Light washed over Seraphine like a warm river, but her skin remained as cold as ice. Her lips turned blue as the last of her breath stuttered in her chest.
‘Don’t go.’ He said it again and again, like a chant. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. ‘You’re my heart, Seraphine. You’re my soul.’
Her lids fluttered, but fate denied him one last look at those sky-blue eyes.
‘You’re my light, Seraphine. You’re my light.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you.’
I love you.
It wasn’t enough. That thread inside him was fraying. She was letting go. He bowed over her, letting his magic trickle into the rocks.
In the misting Lightfire, a figure appeared.
‘Hale.’ Versini’s voice was a rasp. ‘Give her to me.’
Ransom snapped his chin up. The Shadowsmith was so pale he hardly recognized him. His silver hair was crimson, and the deep gash across his neck meant he should be dead. By the way he listed to one side, Ransom suspected he was halfway there.
He said again, ‘Give her to me.’
‘Why?’
He crashed to his knees, coughing up a stream of blood. It splattered the rocks between them. ‘Let me make it count.’
Ransom didn’t understand. His grief was too vast. He couldn’t think beyond it.
Versini’s hands trembled as he reached for Seraphine.
Ransom moved like a shadow, carrying her towards Versini. He draped Seraphine over the Shadowsmith’s lap, and remained there, unwilling – unable – to move away.
Versini slipped his hand under her collar, covering the black thorn above her heart. His body lurched, a groan seeping from his blood-stained lips as his magic – or whatever was left of it – went to work.
Ransom looked on, suspended in a vast and silent terror as they slipped, together, into a place he couldn’t reach.