Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Seraphina
Dark clouds hung over the stalls and tents of the open market in the middle of Citadel proper. Petrichor hung heavy in the air, and if Sera was to guess, the sea on the other side of the Citadel walls was probably raging.
Dominick was uncharacteristically quiet. She’d told him about the meeting with her mother and the Council the day before. About her new assignment and the bickering between the chairs. The only part she’d left out was who was taking her. It was not going to make him feel any better about Colton.
“What about a scarf?” Dominick asked.
“During summer?” She had no idea what she needed or what would be provided to her. All she knew was that she was grateful Dom had agreed to tag along, even if that meant a mark against him.
“Good point.” Dominick shrugged and wrapped the hideous blue lace scarf around the front of his head, tucking it behind his ears. He loved reenacting that old joke from when they were children—his poor substitute for long hair.
“Put that back,” she hissed, hoping the vendor didn’t see him. Dominick smirked, folded the scarf haphazardly, and placed it back on the table.
The market was set up along a side street. Fluttering flags danced in the sea breeze. The Jedan workers displayed the Council's goods on racks with signs that seemed to change color with every passing moment.
Sera greeted the Jedan member manning a tent with leather goods.
“Is there anything I can help you with, Keeper?” The warlock kept his eyes averted, but she knew who he was. How he’d been sleeping in the Jedan streets beside the buckets of ash and waste.
“Just these,” she said and pointed to a pair of black gloves.
“What in the world do you need gloves for?” Dominick asked and rolled his eyes.
Needing them wasn’t the point. It was the fact that this warlock had now brought in a sale.
And though profits were meant for the city, not a Jedan member’s pocket, he’d be incentivized with better lodgings if he sold enough.
“You never know,” she said to Dom and winked at the warlock, who handed her the gloves as if they were precious.
Sera slipped a few extra coins into the warlock’s empty tin cup and followed Dominick down the row, passing a booth selling pocket mirrors. “How am I going to talk to you?” she asked. “I don’t think these can be used over long distances.”
“Maybe you can sweet-talk your captain into using whatever he communicates with.” Dominick winked at her.
“About that…” Colton and Alistair had been inseparable most of their lives.
Out on the streets, causing chaos among the quarters, bloody from fights, and then accepting their punishments.
The two had entered the Legion together.
Sera assumed that they’d been placed in the same battalion.
Apparently this wasn’t the case, or at least not anymore.
But that wasn’t why she hadn’t told Dominick. She worried that after the conversation they’d had at Mystic’s, he’d be upset, or worse, worried. “The captain is Alistair.”
Dominick stopped walking. “Alistair is taking you on this adventure to find the doorways? He shouldn’t be out of the Legion ranks. He’s supposed to be with Colton.”
“I’m aware.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek while her friend fretted and scratched that spot under his ear.
“I’m going to send another message to Colton tonight. Wait—didn’t you?”
“Please don’t say it.” As if the curdling embarrassment churning in her gut wasn’t enough. It had to be Alistair.
“Oh, is Shadow punishing you, Seraphina?”
“Seems like it.” She groaned.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad he’s the one protecting you. At least I can threaten him to keep his hands to himself, or… you know… if you want, I could—”
“Don’t you dare!”
Despite Dom’s jokes, Sera didn’t feel any less guilty, like she was responsible for separating Colton from Al. Every move she made lately was leaving a permanent scar on the people she loved. Nora taken, her mother harmed, Dominick worried: When would it end?
They continued through the market, while worry furrowed Dom’s brow. “How did he look? I’m sure he’s hot now. He never stopped by during their leave.”
Sera cursed under her breath. “I only saw him for a moment,” she said, passing a vendor who sold candied nuts. The mouthwatering scent of spices and sugar had her wishing she could bring some with her.
“Oh, I bet there was something to see.” Dom kept a steady pace, his hands in the pockets of his gray oracle robes.
Whether it was meant to get rid of his anxiety or hers, she wasn’t sure, but this string of teasing wasn’t going to end until they reached the barracks.
“See, I know how the Legion likes to bulk them up. It’s always better to have a sword for backup if you’re close to burnout.
Colton came back looking like he had been lifting boulders all summer, eating eight meals a day. ”
“Your brother was always exceptionally tall for a warlock, so it doesn’t surprise me that he bulked out.” The cobblestone changed to smooth white pavers as they crossed the threshold into Daedeth Quarter.
“I’ll be sure to tell him just how bulky you think he is next time he’s home.”
Sera smacked his arm with the back of her hand as they continued down the street. “I need to stop at my mother’s to say goodbye. You wouldn’t be willing to come with me, would you?”
“I’ll meet you at the corner when you’re done and walk you to the barracks. There’s something I forgot at the market.” Dominick wiggled his eyebrows and turned down a side street.
Before Sera could knock on the door to her mother’s row house, it swung open.
“You’ve finished packing,” Lavinia said with her typical cold tone.
Her dark skin still had a contrasting white patch covering the back of her hand.
But the blisters and swelling had disappeared.
It seemed even the most skilled healers couldn’t return the color Sera’s abomination had leeched from her skin.
The sight of it caused a thickness in the back of her throat.
“How about you worry less about what my hand looks like and focus on saving your sister?”
Sera huffed. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“I wish you would learn to keep your walls up,” Lavinia snapped, pressing a finger to her own temple. Then she turned and left her daughter in the entryway.
Sera rebuilt that wall around her memories and held it there.
It was so similar to the cage she kept around her darkness.
With such a small well of magic, maintaining both the wall and the cage drained her more than usual.
She had tried do something with the abomination, utilize it in a way that might be useful.
She’d tried building stronger defenses around her memories with the sometimes inky, sometimes flaming darkness.
It didn’t work—every time, her mother powered straight through it.
The pressure in her chest increased with each step her mother took toward her. Lavinia’s arm extended with something dangling between her fingers.
A stone raven hanging from a cord.
“Your father wished me to give this to you one day. I suppose today is as good a day as any,” she said with a grimace. Sera could have sworn her mother shuddered, but that wasn’t possible. Lavinia Wildrick wasn’t afraid of anything.
“Father left this for me?” Sera asked and held out her hand. Her mother dropped it, then snatched her arm back to her side. Sera rolled the small bird in her palm. It was cool and lighter than she’d expect a solid stone pendant to be.
Her father had died when Nora was still in their mother’s belly.
Sera had been only three. Her mother explained years later that he had died in the last skirmish before the ceasefire.
Sera barely remembered him. Sometimes, she saw flashes of his kind brown eyes in her dreams. She remembered how he would spin her around in circles, sending her into a fit of giggles.
He was safety and love, and when he was gone, their home froze over.
Sera tied the cord around her neck.
“Get her back, Seraphina. Bring her home.” Lavinia put her whitened hand atop Sera’s head and whispered her departing words.
“Out of the darkness and into the light.” Her mantra she’d repeated for her daughters since they were witchlings.
All the times Sera had left the house, her mother stopping her with that phrase—a kiss on the cheek before leaving for studies.
Even now, as an adult, Lavinia would place a palm over Sera’s head in goodbye after their monthly dinners.
Lavinia’s lower lip quivered, her amber eyes cased in glass. If only those tears were for Sera. For just one moment, she wished she could read her mother’s mind. See the terrible things that she’d witnessed in that demon’s memories.
“I’ll do whatever I can,” she said. “Even if it’s barely anything at all.”
She left and slammed the door behind her.
A roaring crashed in her ears, wave after wave of fury, whipping her abomination into a frenzy. She was surprised the lock on the well held tight.
Dominick was waiting for her at the intersection with his head tilted, squinting as if he could see her inner conflict brewing. He started to speak, but she held her hand up to stop him.
Years and years of insufferable comments and shame poured onto her day after day from her mother.
Always, Sera had held her tongue. Did she owe her mother everything?
Yes. Was she sick of being treated as a failure?
Also yes. But that nagging sensation in the base of her skull, telling her that she still needed Lavinia’s protection, was boiling over.
Sera was sick of needing anyone. She wanted to be self-reliant and strong. She wanted to be… like her mother.
“Give me a minute,” she said to Dom and turned toward the barracks. For once, Dominick listened.