Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Seraphina
There was movement in their room above the tavern. Alistair was up and about, but Sera wondered whether if she kept her eyes closed and lay still enough, he’d leave her alone.
Her head was pounding. A piece of straw jammed into her cheek through the flimsy fabric that was… wet? Drool, not piss, thank Shadow.
“Wake up, Queen Minnow.”
Sera wiped her face. With a groan, she rolled over. “No, thank you,” she said, pulling the itchy quilt over her face. Why did her head hurt so much?
“We’re wasting daylight because you can’t hold your ale.”
Ale.
That’s what that drink was called. She wished it had been laced with magic like the coven breweries’ was. That’s what must prevent this incessant throbbing.
Al ripped away the quilt, and the sun shining through the filthy window was brighter than she’d thought. “Just go without me. We both know you could finish this mission faster if I didn’t get in the way. So let me not get in the way.”
Alistair’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline when she peeked through one eye. He was smiling and clean shaven. Those fucking dimples would be the death of her one day.
“Don’t be too surprised, but I actually need your help today.
” He crossed the room and rested his forearm on the doorjamb.
“There’s bread on the table. Eat it. Then meet me downstairs.
Soon. Don’t make me come get you.” And Alistair Alcott, captain in the Solarni Legion, gave her a look that immediately made her thighs clench. Then he shut the door.
A few minutes later, she descended the stairs in her stained lavender dress, bread in hand, slowly working the hard crust between her teeth. She sat opposite Al, and he handed her a bowl of last night’s reheated stew.
“Eat,” he said.
“I don’t think my stomach will like it.”
“You’ve lost weight.” There was a hint of concern in his tone.
“Didn’t we talk about commenting on appearances?” She held her head in her hands.
“Your uniform was getting loose before we got here. And when I carried you up the stairs last night, I could feel your ribs.”
Sera didn’t know what to do with that statement.
Didn’t know if she should throttle him for even mentioning her body, or if she should be impressed that he paid close enough attention and realized she was suffering.
And she was suffering. The guilt was beginning to eat her alive. Nora, Feybury… all of it.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m dealing with a lot right now.”
“I know, but you’re no good to anyone if you’re dead from starvation,” Al said.
She glared at him, but he continued to watch her. She tried to eat a spoonful of stew, and just as she suspected, her stomach protested. Though its flipping could have been from the shame of being sloppy enough that he had to carry her. She hadn’t realized she’d been that far gone.
But from what she remembered, he’d stumbled a bit too.
“You were quite lively,” Alistair said. Her cheeks burned as she shoveled another spoonful into her mouth to try to hide her embarrassment. “You looked happy. Well, the happiest I’ve seen you.”
She sneered. “Glad I could entertain you on this dull adventure.” She choked down another spoonful of slop. “From what I remember, you were quite chummy with the locals.”
Alistair leaned forward. “You really are jealous of little Dahlia, aren’t you?”
Sera rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Maybe that’s why your eyes are that lovely shade of green… You’re just full of envy.” He winked.
She knew she was blushing, and there was no way to stop it, but instead of ducking her head to avoid his gaze, Sera rested her chin in her hand and admired him.
The lines of muscle beneath his shirt, the way his forearms were so well defined, all the way down to his leather gloves.
Then she lifted her gaze right back to his, and his cocky smile widened, deepening those perfect dimples.
Al lowered his voice and leaned closer. “I don’t know if you’ll win this game, Minnow.”
Sera shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll see,” she said and took another bite of her stew.
“There’s a market a few streets away. I want to try and get some information from the traveling covens.”
Now that was something she was interested in.
The Solarni coven liked to think they were the only coven on the continent, but she remembered how the traveling covens used to venture to the Citadel when she was younger.
Their magic wasn’t so different, but it was more organic.
They chanted under the full moons. Used poultices and brewed potions naturally, with foliage directly from the ground. They were more in tune with Eraphon.
“The Suma or Staraji?”
Alistair tilted his head. “You know, every time I think you can’t possibly be more adorable, you spit out a fact. Makes my heart race a little, Minnow.” Sera choked. “I don’t know which coven. Assuming Suma, since they are within a human city, but I guess we will see.”
She needed to get out of that room, away from him and that lingering gaze that was doing far more than making her heart race.
“If I were a snarkier witch, I would tell you that I’m surprised you’d be interested in someone with a brain. But because I’m not, how can I help you get information from the traveling covens, Alistair?” she asked.
“I’m going to ask a few leading questions. I don’t expect them to share anything with me—I scream Legion—but once I leave, they may whisper information we could use. That’s where you come in.”
“You want me to spy?”
“You get it. Good job!”
It was way too early for this…
Wagons, humans, and dust congregated around the market. The tents were a splash of color against the dulled landscape. Everything had a thick coat of dirt here. Even Sera’s skin was gritty.
It was easy to distinguish Alistair from the humans. Was he unable to shrink his size? Or did he just like being the tallest man in the room? He lumbered from stall to stall, catching everyone’s attention as he went.
Al had been right; it was the Suma coven.
She could tell just by the color of the tents.
Greens and browns similar to the forest she had trekked through for days.
Not to mention their wares were a bit outdated.
They wore talismans and carried around animal feet for protection. Their way of life fascinated her.
There was danger on the road, sure, but it couldn’t feel much different from the constant fear she’d been in since before she left the Citadel. At least they saw the continent. Sera shielded her eyes and watched Alistair enter a tent. Once he’d left, she entered.
Rows of animal feet on rickety shelves stared back at her.
“The rabbit is for luck.” A hunched witch pointed her twisted finger at the display.
She was weathered, deep grooves cemented between her brows and around her mouth.
The witch sucked in a bit of drool that had escaped her lips and limped to a stool behind a table.
“Mole is for a toothache, and badger will give you fierceness.”
“Thank you. I was just looking.”
“You are seeking something? Something I do not have?” The old witch sniffed the air. “See, I know. I know what you need,” she said, sucking her spittle. “A bone. You need a bone.”
Sera backed away slowly. “No, I’m fine.”
“But you must, I insist. I can taste it on you. Ash.”
Sera froze. She’d tasted ash in the air only a handful of times. Once before Feybury, and the other in the Menage when Nora was taken. One time involved a demon relic, the other a demon lord.
The old witch was muttering, reaching for something behind the flap of the tent, when a tingling hum of power raked over Sera. The vibrations shifted with an unnerving familiarity.
You run and run, her magic whispered in her mind.
“Stop it,” she said back. She had to get out of there. Sera exited the tent and hit a wall.
No, not a wall.
She sucked in a breath. There before her, inches away, was him.
Beneath a dark hood, a pair of red eyes gazed from below dark brows.
A barely healed pink scar slashed across his right cheek.
This close, she could make out the sharp lines of his face and the sensuous curve of his lips.
He had a violent kind of beauty, one that promised pain wrapped in pleasure.
“Hello again.” His voice, a deep rumble, skittered through her. She stared at him, unable to move or unwilling. Mesmerized by how his irises changed from bloodred to steely gray. “Do you always walk around with dirt on your cheeks, Subdina?”
Speak, the voice in her head said. She was too stunned to say anything. Too terrified to move away from the obvious danger in front of her. The demon tilted his head as he examined her. Her body, now trembling, held her waiting magic within her. Waiting and watching.
The only thought that crossed her mind was that she wanted him to speak again. His voice was a ballad, brushing her raw nerve endings in a caress. She’d read about a demon’s ability to enthrall a victim, but to feel it? This felt like a homecoming, something she had been missing her entire life.
When his gaze left her, she could finally breathe. The top of her head reached just below his chin, so dangerously close she was, and the power that came off him washed over her in waves. Ash, but something deeper, earthen, woody.
The demon gave her a half smile. “Your bodyguard is on his way.” He lifted her hand to his lips and said, “Until we meet again.”
Then he was… gone.
“What are you doing?” Alistair called to her, his hands on his hips.
“You didn’t see him?” Sera could still feel him, the vibrations of his magic. She reached out a hand to see if this was all some insane illusion, half expecting to touch his cloak. But there was… nothing.
“See who?”
Sandalwood and ash enveloped her. He had to be there, somewhere. “I just— Never mind.”
“The sun must have gotten to you.” Al linked his arm through hers.
“We still need to get information.” She pulled her heavy curls over her shoulder, desperately wishing for a gust of air to cool her.
“I’ve already got something. Demons were seen searching for something south of the forest,” he whispered to her.
Searching for something, or coming from? South of Ironoak was that empty space on the map. There had to be a ruin there, and with it a possible doorway.
Sera wasn’t sure if it was Al’s whisper in her ear, the hallucination, or the thought of being close to a doorway that led to the underworld; whatever it was, she shivered under the beating sun.