Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Seraphina
Ahundred years of grime stained the table in front of her. Sera did her best to breathe out of her mouth as Alistair placed two mugs full of amber-colored liquid down. Amber. The color of Nora’s eyes.
Her stomach sank. At this rate, she’d never get to her sister in time. Every day, Dominick assured her that Nora’s thread was strong. He also mentioned “strange happenings” but kept quiet about them for now, promising he’d fill her in more later.
“Drink,” Alistair said. “It makes it a little more manageable.”
She raised her brows at him, impressed by his intuition until she realized he was referring to the humans.
In the corner of the room, a musician tuned his lute.
The sound was a melodic counterpoint to the belching and grumblings of the patrons.
Sera would be relieved once it started to drown out a bit of the other noise.
She’d never been this close to this many humans before.
They had scraggly hair and threadbare clothes, many were missing teeth, and some were barefoot—a disgusting observation, considering how her boots peeled away from the floor.
Already she was getting used to the ripeness of the place.
Now, that was a fact that needed to be washed down.
The ale was cool on her tongue and had a full tang that stuck to the back of her throat. It was so different from the brew she enjoyed at Mystic’s. She preferred something sweeter, but this wasn’t bad.
She leaned over the table, doing her best not to touch it. “Al?” she asked. “What’s a wank?”
Alistair choked on his ale, drawing attention from the entire room. “What?”
“A wank. When we walked into the city, I heard one of the men say that he’d give me a pretty coin to wank on my toes.”
His eyes were wide, and the pink in his cheeks turned crimson. “Umm…”
She raised a brow at him. Never in all the years she’d known him had he ever looked this flustered. Al leaned closer and whispered, “Someone pleasuring themselves.”
“Oh, for fucking Shadow’s sake.”
“Watch the Shadow talk,” he said through his teeth. “We’re becoming more friendly with humans, but that doesn’t mean they won’t throw us out. And I really don’t feel like threatening anyone this evening.”
“What do you mean, we’re becoming more friendly with humans?”
She’d heard no rumors or whisperings about this in the usual circles.
It seemed like information about friendlier relations with the human kingdoms would have spread through the Citadel like wildfire.
At the very least, she expected her mother would have complained at one of their monthly dinners.
Lavinia hated the race and wasn’t afraid to share her opinion.
Al kept his voice low. “The Council has made strides to communicate more with human leaders. I’ve been on more diplomatic babysitting assignments lately than anything else.”
Now, that was interesting.
“Are you sharing super-secret coven information with me, Al?” A slight twitch of panic lined his face before he turned stony. She bit her lip and delightedly noticed that the motion drew his eyes. “I’m not going to tell anyone, don’t worry.”
The slight quiver in his sigh made her smile harder as two wooden slop bowls landed on the table. He pushed one to her.
Ugh, the texture. Fat, gravy, and hunks of something unrecognizable swirled under her spoon.
“It’s not that bad,” Alistair said.
The room hushed as the musician strummed a pleasant tune. Sera took a bite of her stew. Al was right. It wasn’t awful, and with the amount of dried jerky she’d eaten on their journey here, well, turns out she didn’t mind the grease and root vegetables as much as she’d thought she would.
“So tomorrow, you think we could work toward the ruins? Maybe find out if there’s a doorway there?
” Sera decided she needed to find at least two of these mythical doorways.
That’s what Renata had said: “doorways to Gehenna.” On her morning runs with Al, she’d think about the texts she’d read about Gehenna.
The gates would be shrouded, maybe by a cloaking spell, or possibly covered with rock or otherwise disguised.
Regardless, she should be able to feel the magic, taste it, sense it… Something.
Alistair shook his head. “We gather information here.” He kept his voice low. “This was where the oracle was last seen, so we stay until we know where she went.”
“I could go alone, you know.” Sera scooped up another bite of her stew.
“Oh really, Minnow? You think you’ve trained enough to go alone, in the woods near the Deadlands, to a ruin that may or may not have demonic spells covering it?”
She hated that he was right. Thankfully, the next song picked up in tempo, and she didn’t have to voice that fact.
The crowd was whooping and clapping to the beat.
Robust, strong-armed women slammed mugs of ale, five in each hand, down on wooden tables already slick with foam.
Boisterous and loud, the crowd stomped and cheered as the musician played.
They seemed so alive.
“Why so much ale?” Sera yelled over the noise.
“We needed information, didn’t we?” He smiled and finished one mug while grabbing another.
“You did this? The whole tavern?”
“People are much looser with their lips when they’re slick with drink, wouldn’t you say?” Al’s smile crinkled his eyes. “Drink up, Wildrick.”
He seemed to be enjoying this. The laughter, the smells.
Alistair, captain in the Solarni Legion, enjoyed spending time in a hovel like this.
This was worse than some of the lowliest establishments in Jedan Quarter.
And Al was a traveler. He should have been awarded a stately house close to the Council chambers.
“You don’t like the music?” he asked.
Sera scanned the crowd. Liking the music wasn’t the issue.
It was lively—infectious, even. The beat was fast, and merriment twirled through the space just as the women’s skirts did with each spin.
Their faces were smiling, and she took in their laughter, but somewhere deep down in her cold, lonely heart, she thought of Nora. Of the terrible things Sera had done.
Guilt dropped like a stone in her gut as she pictured the portal Nora had created and Sera’s black magic turning it ugly.
Char marks still stained the walls of her mind as she thought of Feybury.
Of the apparently permanent loss of pigment on her mother’s hand.
Of lying to Dominick for so long. The weight was so incredibly heavy.
This type of happiness wasn’t meant for someone like her.
“It’s nice,” she said and sipped on her ale.
“Oh, come on. You’re not too good for this, are you?”
Sera scoffed. “It’s just different.”
If only he knew how defective she was. What she had done to save him from that demon. She could feel his gaze upon her, but she refused to meet it. He wouldn’t understand.
“Lighten up, Wildrick.”
A sharp twang from a very different instrument cut through the room. Al must have seen the shock across her face, for he said, “It’s a fiddle,” and finished his second mug of ale.
The instrument created vibrating waves of music, which were followed shortly by the sound of a drum.
Men and women left their seats, their meals untouched, and small, grimy children ran in, taking random bites from abandoned bowls.
Couples swung in sweeping circles in a dance so dizzying that Sera wasn’t sure how they were still upright.
“Duty calls,” Al said and rose from their table, crossing the room. After slapping a patron hard on the back, he let out a loud whistle.
Sera knew that if his beard were its regular length, both dimples would be fully displayed. He raised his hands and clapped in time with the beat, and every few moments, his gaze met hers across the crowded room.
Moons, she was done for. Why fate had decided that he should come back into her life, she would never know. But damn it, did she enjoy looking at him, even with his glamour.
No one bothered her. Not that she was upset about it. She was pretty sure the reason was that Alistair shot death glares at anyone who walked close. He’d made his way around the room while Sera enjoyed a second mug of ale.
Her cheeks were hot, and she knew she had an idiotic smile plastered on her face as Alistair began twirling a little girl in a circle. Al, almost a full head taller than anyone else, was hunched over and smiling as the child laughed. Her blond curls wrapped her as the music drummed on.
It wasn’t hard to notice how every woman’s eyes were on him. Many approached, asking for a dance, something Sera wasn’t too happy about, but he politely declined them all. The child’s request must have been innocent enough.
Sera tracked his every move. She was a fool.
Al stalked toward her, his shoulders relaxed, and for once, he seemed to feel like the world could wait.
She knew it was for show, that he had been gathering intelligence all night, but right now, as he flopped back in his seat before her and swigged down another mug in what seemed like one gulp, he seemed unburdened.
“You seem to be having fun,” Sera said.
“Ah, you’re not jealous of little Dahlia there, are you?” As if on cue, Dahlia waved, and Al waved back.
“Not in the slightest, Alistair Alcott,” she said.
“Dance with me.”
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Come on, Minnow…”
“I don’t know these dances.” She crossed her arms but couldn’t stop her smirk.
Alistair’s face cracked into a rakish grin. “It doesn’t matter.” He held out his gloved hand.
Sera stared at it, half expecting to be struck down if she took it.
She wanted to take it, to feel a bit of joy. Her heart ached for it. For so long, she’d felt alone while navigating her power, her family, even when she helped the Jedan members in the middle of the night. Always alone, completing those small acts to help fill the aching space.
But now, here, in this rotten tavern, reeking of filth, Al stood with his hand extended. That smile, those brilliant blue eyes staring back at her with a single question. A dare, even.
His voice was so low she almost missed it over the merriment of the crowd. “Seraphina, will you dance with me?”
Her breath hitched as she stared at him. And there, between the glamoured crow’s-feet framing those beautiful eyes, was his unguarded truth. That if she said no, he might feel it, and as much as she loved the thought of having that power over him…
She caved.
Sera stood, finished the rest of her ale, and slammed the mug down before taking Alistair’s hand.
He about ripped her arm out of her socket as he dragged her to the middle of the dance floor and started her in a series of spins under his arm.
Her hideous lavender dress flared among the sweaty bodies.
She wasn’t immune to the death stares from the other women waiting for their turn with him around the room.
Sera relished it.
“Does this make up for the solstice ball?”
Sera smacked his arm, and he laughed. After a few songs, her cheeks were tight, a pleasant warmth spread through her, and not even a flicker of her abomination stirred in her gut. When was the last time she had felt this free?
Alistair stilled with her in his arms. That twinkle was back in his eye, and as he held her, she could smell the sea and spices of the Citadel on him.
His fingers brushed her temple, pushing a few heavy curls behind her ear.
“What?” She was breathless and hot, her mind fuzzy from the extra sips of ale she had taken. She didn’t know how many songs they had danced, only that sweat slicked Al’s hairline, and she didn’t want this to stop.
“If I’d known you danced like this, I might have said yes to you.”
“Oh, shut up.” She pushed him before grabbing his hand and twirling herself under his arm once again.
Sera didn’t know how much ale she’d drunk. Her head swam in a pleasant warmth of hazy edges and giggles. As she attempted to climb the stairs, Alistair, not much steadier beside her, held her under one shoulder and outright snorted when she almost fell for the third time.
“You’re a menace,” he said before sweeping his arm under her knees and carrying her the rest of the way up.
“Do not drop me,” she said, resting her cheek on his chest. Shadow, his arms were so firm, so solid. She could fall asleep just like this.
A few steps into the room, the comfort of his warmth was suddenly gone.
Sera screeched and tried clawing at something to catch herself before she landed on the straw mattress. Alistair’s baritone laugh was infectious as she stretched out like an overgrown cat.
Al removed her boots, then her socks, and swore.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His gloved hand healed her new blisters in a flash of white light.
A tingling went from her feet to her calves and higher and higher.
She moaned at the sensation. “Careful, princess.” The crowd below was still going strong, but she didn’t miss the way his voice lowered, the breathy undertone.
His gaze explored her, warming each place his eyes landed like the sun’s rays.
Her face, her chest, the curve of her hip beneath lavender fabric.
“I’m grown. You should call me a queen.” Tingling pleasure rolled through her, and suddenly she wasn’t so concerned about the one bed.
“Whatever you say, Seraphina.” He shook his head, then hovered over her, and those sky-blue eyes settled on her lips. She arched toward him, just enough…
Al reached behind her head, stole a pillow, and settled at the foot of the door.
Sera sighed in her drunken bliss, turning onto her side. Alistair was staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
“Why do you wear gloves all the time? I don’t remember you doing that when we were younger.”
He rolled on his side to face her.
“I’m sensitive.” He furrowed his brow. “My magic developed, and certain things can irritate my skin.”
“Like what?”
“Demons,” he said with a shrug. “It’s been pretty fucking itchy with Snik around.”
“He can hurt you?” The straw mattress crunched under her elbow.
“All demons can hurt us. I’m fine as long as I don’t touch him with my bare hand. Really, anything demonic, hence the gloves.” He wiggled his fingers at her.
What a strange reaction.
Sera flopped onto her back. “Do you ever wish you were different?” She sighed. “I wish I was better. Not so afraid to be happy.”
Sleep pulled at her.
“Why are you afraid to be happy?”
“I don’t think I deserve it,” she whispered.
“You deserve it, Seraphina. You deserve to feel every ounce of joy.”
“Maybe I’ll try harder,” she said, closing her eyes. “You’re pretty easy to be happy around.” The rolling darkness was quiet as she drifted. She almost missed his reply.
“You are too.”