But Vasso isn’t a witch, her magic called back.

  “Vatera,” Sera whispered. With the turn of her hand, the darkness took shape, reaching up to her palm. She had no idea why that word slipped naturally from her tongue.

  “Good. Now try and move it.”

  Curving her fingers into claws, she visualized the mass as it moved. Microsensations racked her body; blades of grass scratched under her palms. She felt the wind, even the leather of her and Vasso’s boots.

  “You can feel what it touches?”

  Vasso nodded. “I’m going to assume that you were probably petrified and didn’t notice. It’s an extension of you.” A wisp rose out of the mass, caressing her cheek. Her darkness climbed his in a dizzying spiral that set her stomach fluttering.

  Sera curled her finger and pointed at him. He didn’t flinch when the dark tendril slammed into his cheek. A whisper of warmth glided along the pads of her fingertips. She could feel the smooth skin up the line of his jaw, over his cheek and temple. Lastly, she raked her magic through his hair.

  Mesmerized by the sensations, Sera took a moment to notice the rakish grin plastered across Vasso’s face. An electrical current aimed straight for her core had her sucking in breath when he waved her magic away.

  “I want to try something,” he said.

  Sera took a step back. “We aren’t going to kill something again, are we?”

  “You don’t trust me, Subdina?”

  “No.”

  Vasso gave her an exaggerated sigh. “Hold it in front of you.”

  Sera huffed. “Vatera,” she said and pulled her darkness into a pillar of blackened smoke.

  “Keep it there,” he said, and released his own. It changed from something opaque and foggy to a pillar of solid night. It turned and twirled until it was something she could identify—a trunk, then branches, and lastly buds of leaves. Each individual leaf had such perfect likeness that she could recognize each ridge and vein.

  Pulling deep from her well, she fed his creation, urging him on. “Keep going,” she whispered. The smoky tree soared, mimicking the ironoak trees surrounding them. With each passing second, the canopy grew thicker, blocking out the sun except for speckled rays of light twinkling around her.

  Another surge, and she took a deep breath against the buzzing of her skin, relishing the warmth radiating through her. This was what euphoria felt like. This was… living.

  Vasso circled their creation, his grin lighting up every inch of his face as the branches and leaves formed—hundreds of years of growth in the matter of minutes.

  Sera dared to glance at him again, watching him squint in concentration, and below that straight, regal nose, his lips pulled to the side as he focused.

  “Look,” he said and pointed up.

  Black buds covered the branches. One by one, they unfurled into blossoms grouped into clusters of dark inflorescence. A mighty tree made of mist, fog—shadow.

  Sera didn’t realize she’d stopped feeding Vasso her magic, and one by one, the blossoms rained around them. Her heart pounded in her ears—they were smoky gray, the color of his eyes. Ash. Darkness.

  Her head was fuzzy. Too much magic, she thought. Or was it the natural pull she had to him?

  Vasso regarded her as well; amusement danced across his features, melting into curiosity. As the blossoms and petals showered around them, each touch was a tap in her palm.

  “I’ve never done that before,” he said quietly.

  “Made a tree?”

  He shook his head. “Mixed magic, or at least made something with it.” His voice dropped. “I didn’t know it was possible.”

  Sera smiled. For so long, she’d wished to be accepted. Not to be the poor sister whose mother had to get her out of Jedan. The one who needed to use her brain instead of her power to navigate the world.

  But this had been beautiful. Not destruction. Not death disguised as a mercy. It was life.

  The layers of darkness were gone. He took a step toward her, so close she could touch him. Something snapped tight within her, right in the center of her chest. She gasped, holding her finger there, and on his face was a silent question. What was it about him?

  She was a fool. A fool who, for a moment, didn’t feel alone or defective. Who’d watched a man make something beautiful out of a power she’d only ever feared. It was a contradiction.

  He was a contradiction.

  Sera took a step back, but Vasso reached for her.

  “What are you doing?”

  He pulled a piece of dried grass from her hair.

  “Oh.” She let out a breath.

  “Relax, Subdina.”

  “What does Subdina mean?” The word was awkward on her tongue. In her years of studies, she’d only read portions of the old language. Asking Al would be the next logical thing, but something told her she wanted to hear it from Vasso’s lips.

  Vasso placed his hands in his pockets, his dark brows pinched together as if he was deciding whether he should tell her. Instead, he smirked and said, “I’ll tell you one day.” Then he turned toward the manor.

  Sera followed him.

  His shoulders swayed with each step. An effortless swagger that he probably didn’t even realize he had, but with each run of a hand through his hair… What wasn’t he telling her? Vasso walked into the dark cave tunnel.

  More. She needed to train more, but knew better to demand it this time.

  Her darkness’s laugh echoed through her head.

  Back in the tunnel, waiting for her eyes to adjust, she could sense him mere inches away. His magic flowed off him and over her like an exhale, and she couldn’t deny that she craved the feel of it mixing with hers, along with the lingering smell of him that seemed to follow her wherever she went. A clench in her chest made her heart beat faster. She wanted to touch him, get that sensation back. The blooming in her chest, the unfurling of leaves…

  Slowly, his face became clear. She wondered if the cut of his jaw would feel the same under her fingertips as it had felt under her magic. Sera raised her hand.

  “Don’t.” His breath shuddered. His dark brows were pinched tight in confusion… or was it horror?

  “But…”

  “Please,” he begged and left her in the dark.

  Chapter forty-one

  Seraphina

  He had left her there. Alone. In the dark, with her breathing so loudly, she wanted to scream. She had been a fool to think he would accept her advance.

  Had it been an advance? She didn’t even know. All she had wanted was to experience that rush of their magic mixing.

  And to feel his jaw and throat.

  “I’m fully capable of embarrassing myself. I don’t need you to remind me.”

  Her magic laughed at her before thankfully going silent.

  Sera pushed her hair off her shoulders and finally moved. It was getting late, dinner was expected, and…

  Her stomach dropped. Why couldn’t she hate him? He obviously didn’t want anything to do with her. But today, she hadn’t put a small fox out of its misery. She hadn’t lit things on fire. No, today they’d made something beautiful.

  She could still picture what he looked like in the rays of light peeking through the canopy of shadow above them. The light had settled on the dark hair of his brows, down his straight, regal nose, across the full pink lips of his smile, against his fair skin.

  Sera shook the thought away. Fool, fool, fool.

  As Sera crossed through the mirrored pool chamber on the way back to her room, Ophelia called out, “Seraphina, don’t worry about changing for dinner. It will be casual.” The oracle turned back to her threads, and the blue glow on the far side of the lake pulsed with each movement of the witch’s hand.

  Casual.

  She was pretty sure she was living inside a bad joke. A demon lord who sings to her magic, an all-seeing oracle who speaks in riddles, and a warlock she could potentially kill with a touch walk into a tavern.

  A terrible joke. One that was becoming so entangled she had no idea how to get herself out of it.

  Nora.

  That was her true north. She needed a doorway. No more shadow trees or wasting time; she needed Vasso to teach her control. How stupid could she have been… She hadn’t even asked him. Sera groaned, then entered her room and immediately stripped out of her black leathers into brown trousers, boots, and her Legion tunic. She let her hair fall in clustered curls around her. Eventually, she’d need some cream to help with the frizz, but one more night wouldn’t hurt.

  What was far more pressing was figuring out what lie she’d tell Alistair next so she could train again tomorrow. She was sure an upset stomach would only work for so long.

  Sera pressed the heels of her palms hard into her eyes and rubbed. She hoped she looked like she’d been sleeping most of the day. She’d be screwed if Alistair had actually gone into her room to check up on her. Well, let him call her bluff.

  Vasso’s words drifted over her. Why don’t you ask your captain what happened to his clan? Dread slithered through her like an eel. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what he had to say about it.

  Sera knocked on Alistair’s door. Nothing. She knocked again, and silence was the only response. After a few moments, she turned the handle and peeked inside.

  The room was organized. His bed was made with folded corners despite the thick, elaborate duvet, and his weapons were laid out in a perfect line.

  Not a single thing was out of place.

  Tempted to turn one of the swords slightly askew to see if he would notice, she plopped on his bed, unbothered by the creases she created, and burrowed her face in his pillow.

  How did she get here? All desperate and longing? A stupid crush from childhood, that’s how.

  A clattering in the bathing room had her jolt upright, and the door swung open.

  Alistair walked into the room, running a towel over his face, the rest of his glorious body on display. Sera covered her eyes with a yelp when the image of his massive member seared itself into her retinas.

  He really is built to inflict damage.

  “Fuck, Sera!” he yelled. She peeked through her fingers while he wrapped the towel low around his hips. “What are you doing in here?”

  It wasn’t only the black blood across the front of the towel that gave her pause; it was the smell. Ash mixed with iron, and the metal tang hit her tongue as she looked at Alistair.

  His hair wasn’t wet. He hadn’t just finished bathing. Undressed, yes… but covered in blood. Welts spanned his arms and face. And she couldn’t help but wonder for a second if her blood would do the same. “Why are you covered in demon blood, Alistair?” The heat from her cheeks faded.

  “What are you doing in my room?” His voice was a low growl.

  “I came to walk with you to dinner. Why is there blood all over you?” She pointed to his arm, which was now covered with nasty red splotches underneath the black blood. “I thought you were still injured and couldn’t travel?” She rose from the bed.

  Why don’t you ask your captain what happened to his clan? Again, Vasso’s voice rattled through her. Her mouth went dry.

  “You should have knocked,” he said, crossing the room and gathering his clean uniform.

  “I did. You didn’t answer, but that isn’t my question, is it? Where the fuck were you, Al?” His face was set in a hard line. “You traveled, didn’t you?”

  Al glared at her, his knuckles turning white around the Legion uniform in his hand. He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “Minnow.” He took a step toward her. Sera reared back.

  “Do not Minnow me. You’ve been breathing down my neck, asking me where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing. I think I deserve an answer.”

  “I’m not the one in danger here.” His lip curled.

  She raised her chin to meet his eye. “That parasite might have said otherwise. The burnout… Those marks.” Sera pointed to his face.

  “A few days.” He scratched the purpling welt on his cheek. “I’ve only been practicing.”

  “Do not fucking lie to me right now,” she said. “You don’t get covered in blood by practicing traveling. What happened to Snik’s clan?”

  Alistair threw the coven-blue uniform to the floor and crossed his arms. The cords in his neck stood out, his face deadly still. “Who told you to ask me that?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Sera backed up a step.

  “Did Lord Vasso?”

  She wouldn’t give him up. Obviously, Al was hiding something. “Just tell me!”

  “They were slain! The woodland goblins were ordered to be executed by the Council. I had nothing to do with it; it was Crag and his company.”

  Sera raised a shaking hand to her mouth. “They are innocent,” she whispered. “You know they do no harm.”

  “They were orders, Seraphina. The Council wants demons dead… so we kill them. The goblins might not have been able to retaliate, but you know others would. They’ve been slaughtering us for centuries.”

  Her stomach dropped. She could understand his reasoning, she supposed. Her family had been so far removed from the Legion’s casualty list since her father had died. But Snik was just a small creature. And his kind lived in burrows and glens.

  She could almost smell their burning flesh. But when she closed her eyes, willing the phantom stench away, it wasn’t small goblins she saw; it was the bodies of those humans in the village of Feybury. The feel of the people who’d been caught in her blaze in the tavern.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Alistair said in an almost sneer. “The ceasefire has ended. We’re back at war.”

  The room spun. War. She swallowed against the burning at the back of her throat. “When?”

  “Can we talk about this after I wash?” He pointed to the welts turning indigo on his arms. They looked painful, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. Still, he stood there, waiting for permission, with every dip and swell of muscle on display. How many times had she thought about running her hands over him? And now?

  Bile threatened to come up.

  Sera nodded. She didn’t watch him reenter the bathing room chamber, but the sound of splashing water reached her ears; at least she knew he was still there.

  Her darkness rumbled through her. Sera let her fingernails bite into her palm, sure to leave half crescents in their wake.

  Snik. Poor Snik. His clan slaughtered for nothing. Did he have kin? A mate? Sera glanced at her palms, at the death magic that lay within them.

  Thump. Her darkness raged.

  Thump. They were back at war.

  It was inevitable, her magic hissed. The threads are pulled.

  War or not, the Council members were monsters for ordering the woodland goblins’ slaughter. She remembered the stench of Crag and his company, the stains of blood on their knees and across their torsos.

  Al returned, fully clothed this time. His damp dark hair brushed back in waves, the sides of his mouth drooping in a frown.

  “Sit. What I’m about to tell you is confidential. Do you understand?”

  Sera lowered herself slowly to the edge of the bed, unsure if it would burst into flames at her touch. Taking a deep breath, she crossed her arms and listened.

  “Two nights before we departed from the Citadel’s walls, the ceasefire ended.”

  “That was the day before Nora was taken… They’d delayed the trial. Why wasn’t the coven alerted then?” she asked.

  “That’s the Council’s business.” He sat in the small writing desk’s chair. The wood screamed under his muscled weight.

  “So you’re telling me that the Solarni coven has been at war since we left the Citadel two weeks ago? And we happen to be holed up in the underground manor with one of the most powerful beings on the planet… who is our active enemy?”

  Al swallowed hard. “It would seem so.” He leaned forward, forearms settling atop his knees, the brown trousers bunching beneath his elbows.

  “And you’re just telling me all this now?” Her voice was down to a deadly whisper. The vatra within her turned into a tumultuous violence, roaring in her ears, raging through her veins. Sera shook with restraint.

  “It was confidential. I wanted to tell you! Shit, I wanted to, Sera, but I was sworn to secrecy.”

  “And now that I’ve caught you, you have no choice but to tell me? Is that what this is?” Sera closed her eyes, willing her magic to calm. It just laughed at her. They needed to get to dinner; they were expected. “I’ll meet you in the dining room.”

  Alistair reached out to grab her hand. Sera snatched it back before he could touch her. With every second she looked at the warlock, a pounding pressure built in her temples.

  “Sera, there is more I need to tell you.” Those broad shoulders dropped. Whatever he needed to tell her wasn’t good. After Snik… knowing they were back at war, her chest already felt tight.

  “Tell me later,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Al shot back in his chair. “Sera—your eyes.”

  Sera didn’t wait to hear whatever bullshit he had to say about her eyes and walked out the door.

  She fumed the entire way to the dining room. It didn’t help that her magic was humming an unfamiliar tune in her mind.

  “Will you stop that? You’re making me look insane.”

  It laughed, but finally shut up.

  The dining room chandeliers swayed in their nightly waltz, casting dancing shadows along the walls and floor. The constant light interruption was making her headache worse with every step toward the finely set table.

  Ophelia was at her place setting. “Sit next to me, dear. You seem ruffled.”

  Sera didn’t object and waited for the lesser demons to change around her plates and cutlery. The lesser demons looked so much like goblins. Their ears weren’t nearly as large as Snik’s, and they were black with fur, but she couldn’t stop picturing their bodies strewed… their homes burning. She blinked back tears.

  War had taken her father. It had taken mothers, brothers, and daughters. Would either side give up? Or would the result be the complete annihilation of the dark ones?