By the time the words registered, Dominick was running toward Citadel proper, and she prayed to whatever deity might be listening that Alistair hadn’t heard him.

  She turned slowly to meet Alistair’s gaze, and the smirk he had plastered on his face told her he absolutely had.

  Chapter nine

  Dominick

  He snickered all the way past Darine Hall. Sera was going to kill him, or maybe kiss him, depending on how her journey with Al went. Regardless, Dominick couldn’t help planting the seed, or whatever they said.

  The streets were empty in front of the Ogdelo. A few coven members hurried from one building to the next, creating a well-worn path from the grand Council chambers to the massive barracks. It wasn’t until a flash of red barreled toward him that he took any real notice of the people around him.

  “Dominick,” Sam yelled.

  He winced. Moons, he should have ended it last night. He almost had. Then, well, Sam had done that thing with his tongue that Dominick so loved, and Dominick was a weak warlock.

  “Samuel, what are you doing out of your perch? Don’t you have a ward or something to reinforce?” Dom turned away from Citadel proper toward Jedan Quarter. He wanted to get his task completed before he had time to reconsider. The last thing he needed was to get caught helping Jedan members. Even though he was high on the chopping block, the Council wouldn’t hesitate to throw him in the tower.

  “We were called for a meeting at the barracks. You want to get dinner after?” Sam reached out and squeezed his bicep, and Dom swallowed his disgust. One thing he hated was public affection among lovers.

  “Oh, Sam. Listen.” Dom leaned in a little closer. He’d learned that if he lowered his voice, they usually didn’t cause a scene. He lowered his head and took in that hopeful look in Sam’s eyes. “I think this has run its course.”

  And as if the dark clouds had opened above them, shock rained over the warlock. Sam’s eyes widened for a second, his mouth open, but then, there… Anger. “You fucking prick.”

  Dominick tried not to smile and backed away slowly. “It’s been fun, truly.”

  “I hope you turn to dust, you asshole,” Sam called out, louder than Dom would have preferred. But he wasn’t following him, and Dom was grateful for that. Too many messy situationships ending in the middle of the street and he’d have an even worse reputation. He didn’t mind, not really. Let them think what they wanted. It still didn’t stop him from attracting admirers, at least not yet.

  “I’d rather turn to dust than be burned,” he said under his breath and continued toward Jedan.

  “Where the fuck is it…” The doorframe was in rough shape, and he had already gotten one sliver feeling for that blasted hole she’d shown him. She didn’t have enough magic to hide a key away, nor had she given him a spare for whatever reason, but Sera had mentioned on more than one occasion that there was a slit between the wall and the frame, and she’d stuck the spare inside.

  He had to get her out of this place. When she got back, he’d put his foot down and get her into a nice place in Dobro. The hallway, despite looking clean, smelled musty. He’d refused to use the single bathroom, opting to piss outside if he ever had to. The last time he’d been here was half a year ago. Sera’d had to carry him out of Mystic’s, and they’d slept side by side all night, cramped and hot.

  There.

  He wedged his finger into the space and pulled on the metal. Fitting the key into the lock, he pushed.

  “Shadow…” He didn’t know where to look first. This wasn’t Sera. He checked the symbol on the door and confirmed he was in the right room.

  Empty elixir bottles were littered everywhere. Her bed was unmade, clothes strewed about. He had known she was hiding something, and it had broken his heart when she finally told him what it was. But this—Sera’s darkness was destroying her.

  Dominick grabbed a cloth bag Sera used to carry her books in and placed all the empty bottles inside. Then he wiped the dust from the mantle and swept the ashes from the small fireplace. How had he been so blind? She was practically begging for help—screaming, if her room was any indication. Sera had destroyed an entire human village: no small feat. But this felt like staring into her soul. One that was suffering, disheveled, and lost.

  When the room was at least maneuverable, he approached the bed. The sheet bunched under his hand as Dom heaved the mattress up.

  “You have got to be kidding me, Seraphina,” he whispered to himself, although if she were there, he’d scream it.

  Cut into the bottom of the frame was a hole, and in it a large wooden box, filled to the brim with coins. The mattress pressed into his shoulder as he lifted the box, trying his best not to drop any of its contents.

  The coins clinked, and a few rolled under the bed when he set it on the floor. She must have been saving for years. There was more than enough here to live comfortably in Dobro.

  This was all too much. Sera was unwell. Did Lavinia know this?

  He needed to calm himself before making a mistake and cornering the witch. Master mastria or not, one day, he was going to finally give Lavinia Wildrick a piece of his mind.

  Dominick reached under the bed, swiping out the few coins that had rolled under it, but instead of his fingers brushing gold, he grabbed a notebook. Opening the first page, he read:

  Family Klein… a dozen swaddling wraps for newborn

  Family Meulen… fresh produce, asked for a crate, gave them three

  He flipped through pages and pages of the palm-size book, the words blurring from the tears collecting in his eyes. She was making a real difference, and every line he read indicated she wasn’t paying for frivolous things. She was gifting food, building supplies, and essentials that should be provided to them freely by the Council.

  “Shadow bless you, Sera,” he said, and sent a kernel of his power to the goddess.

  Chapter ten

  Seraphina

  Despite having wanted, in the past, to tour the barracks, Sera was missing a lot of the scenery. It was hard for her to admire the statues and ancient weapons while Alistair Alcott walked in front of her. He collected parts of a coven uniform from one of the many rooms they journeyed through, draping the pants and shirts over his forearm. He nodded to every Legion member who passed, showcasing the line of his overly chiseled jaw.

  She needed to get herself together. It’d been years since she’d thought of him, but now, in his presence, she was every bit as awkward as she’d been when they were young.

  He turned. His eyes swept her up and down, and damn if she didn’t want him to smile at what he saw.

  Instead, his face stayed impassive.

  Well then. Guess even now, she wasn’t his cup of tea.

  He continued into a room with stacks of shelves that reached the ceiling. Not unlike her workstation in the keeper wing, but instead of priceless artifacts, the shelves held brown leather boots.

  “You won’t need anything you packed,” he said over his shoulder and led her to an empty table.

  “And how do you know what I need?”

  “Oh, Minnow,” he sighed. Sera wished she would turn to dust right there on the spot. “This isn’t my first assignment. And based on how full your pack is”—he held up a gloved finger—“the length of time we are going to be traveling”—he held up another—“not to mention the fact that I’m holding your uniform, I can almost guarantee you won’t need anything you packed.”

  Minnow. It had been years since she’d heard her old nickname. She wished it had been an endearment—that he had given her the name as a sign of playful flirting. Alas, she’d been awarded it because she’d fallen into one of the garden pools, and being compared to a tiny bait fish wasn’t particularly sexy.

  “You will need armor,” he said.

  “Armor? I’m not appointed to the Legion. Isn’t that what you’re for?”

  He regarded her again, then chuckled, raspy and deep. “I’m here for a lot of things,” he said, and handed her the uniform and a pair of boots. “Go in there and change, quickly. We have a meeting with Chair Renata to review our assignment. If you delay me further, I will leave without you.”

  “How do you know these will fit?” she huffed, entering a changing area. She closed the curtain behind her and peeled off her shirt.

  “I’ve got a good eye.” There was a smile in his answer, and she ignored her fluttering insides.

  And of course, they fit.

  The brown pants were made of thicker material than her usual keeper uniform and slipped easily over her hips, tying comfortably under her belly button. Her new tunic was long-sleeved but breathable, falling to mid-thigh and dyed coven blue, with the Solarni sun embroidered on the chest.

  “The other Council members won’t be there?” she asked.

  “This is Renata’s mission.”

  Sera pushed back the curtain and emerged. Alistair was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, scanning her from head to toe. His nostrils flared for a moment, his full lips pulled to a straight line. Without a second look, he crossed the room toward the table where he’d placed her things.

  “Let’s see what’s in your bag.” Alistair gave her a conspiratorial grin and set a Legion rucksack on the table.

  “What? Why?” Sera gripped the strap tightly. He didn’t need to know what she’d brought. He just needed to get her there.

  “Because, as I said, you’re most likely carrying nonsense, and it’s my job to ensure you can walk long distances.”

  “I’ll be fine. We can go.”

  He held out his hand. “Give it, Seraphina.”

  She shivered at each syllable of her name exiting those full lips and handed over her pack. He rifled through her things. Sera all but bit her tongue off as she watched him throw her journal, leather gloves, and comb on an empty table. He’d pulled out the few pairs of pants when she stopped him.

  “I’m bringing those.”

  “These are not thick enough. They’re going.” He ripped them out of her hand, and three glass bottles of elixirs pinged across the table. Sera caught two of them, and Alistair grabbed the other. He lowered his voice. “Sera, what are these?”

  She snatched it from his gloved hand and swallowed hard. “They’re for sleep,” she whispered.

  “Are they contraband?”

  She shook her head. “I got them from the healers.” She turned one over so he could see the underside where the healer’s mark was scratched into the glass. He glanced at the bottle, then right at her. His crystal-blue gaze pierced right through her.

  There was pity in that stare, and it was piquing her darkness. He didn’t know her anymore. He had no right to judge what she was going through. No one else had to deal with this power, this destruction running through their body every second of every day.

  Sera threw the elixirs into the bottom of the rucksack and turned away. He kept glancing at her while he folded an extra pair of brown pants, another Legion-issued tunic, and two pairs of socks. He left the table, giving her a moment to breathe. How was she going to explain this? How could she hold herself together for weeks? Especially under his scrutiny… his pity.

  Alistair returned with a brown cloak. He folded it with more care than she’d expected and placed it inside.

  “The rest will be returned to you when we get back.”

  “I need this.” She reached for the notebook Dominick had given her. Alistair grabbed her forearm. The abomination snapped inside her, wriggling under the surface where his hand bunched the fabric of her tunic.

  “I am a captain in the Solarni Legion, and as of twenty minutes ago, you report to me. I had hoped you had matured more than the last time we interacted, but don’t make me pull rank. Minnow.” The side of his mouth tilted upward with each stroke of his thumb against her uniform. Her darkness thrashed. “You will follow orders.”

  Every fiber in her body vibrated with rage as she ripped her arm from his grip. The darkness rolled in her stomach, and she clenched her hands so hard that her knuckles cracked.

  Alistair continued rubbing his fingers together, inspecting his hand, then looked back at her. His face puckered as if he’d eaten something sour.

  Sera lowered her voice. “Keep your hands off me.”

  She grabbed the journal Dominick had gifted her and threw it on top of her cloak, making quick work to close her new Legion rucksack around it.

  Alistair’s face was stone while he continued to rub his fingers together. She’d seen how he’d done that in the throne room the day before. Some weird tic he must have picked up from the Legion. No wonder they had kicked him out of Colton’s battalion.

  Sera crossed her arms and raised a brow, waiting for him to snap out of whatever trance he was in. He straightened, puffed out his annoyingly broad chest, and walked past her. With no choice but to follow, Sera walked into the hall.

  The Council chambers were less intimidating without the other four chairs present. Empty and echoing, no crinkle of robes or murmurs. But the sea beyond the glass was raging. The gray peaks were white with foam, so angry she wondered if the mer were having a hard time with the currents.

  Chair Renata sat sharp in her throne, waiting. Her blond hair was slicked back in a bun. Sera noticed two golden wings were clipped behind her ears. An odd hair ornament for a witch, let alone a Council member.

  Sera followed Alistair’s lead and bowed, keeping her eyes on the floor.

  “Captain Alcott, you’ve outfitted your recruit in our uniform. Wonderful.” Renata clapped her hands together and stood.

  Sera’s chest tightened at the casual use of the word recruit. Surely Renata couldn’t mean Sera would be commissioned to the Legion even after completing her quest? She had nothing to offer.

  “Yes, Chair, I have.” He stood up straight and held his hands behind his back.

  “I’m sure you are curious about the details of your mission.”

  “I am,” Alistair said. What a diligent soldier he was. Only spoke when spoken to. Standing at ease.

  “This is what I have for you. The oracle’s name is Ophelia Fray. She was last seen in Ironoak, a human settlement on the southeast side of the Lanac mountain range. She is presumed close to the area, but this information is a few weeks old.” Chair Renata picked at her long nails, looking utterly bored. “She has been moving from settlement to settlement every few years. It would be wise to use caution when approaching her. I can’t imagine she wants to be caught.”

  “How did you find this information?” Sera asked. She bit her tongue as soon as the words were out.

  Chair Renata squinted at her. “And why do you think it is your place to know? Do you think you should have the privilege, Seraphina Wildrick?”

  Sera bowed her head. She knew better, but once again, her curious nature had taken over. It was fascinating to her how the Legion collected information. She couldn’t help but think that in two hundred years’ time, the next group of keepers would be digging up the lost transcriptions in her same office.

  “No, Chair, I do not. Please forgive my outburst.”

  Renata pursed her lips. “You will report to Captain Alcott and follow his every command. It is imperative that the oracle is secured and brought back to the Citadel. The future of this coven depends on her knowledge and the doorways.”

  Sera took a deep bow, resisting the urge to look up as she responded. “Yes, Chair.”

  “Now, as far as the doorways to Gehenna are concerned, once you find them, you will need to mark their locations accurately on a map that Alistair will make available to you.”

  “But how will I know what the doorways look like?”

  Renata turned her back on Sera and glided to her throne. “That is not my job, Witch Wildrick. Surely you must have some idea of what they would look like?”

  Very few texts mentioned the doorways. The ones that did were often in the old language, and although Sera was more proficient in it than most, there were still gaps in her comprehension. Still, she knew they were direct lines under Eraphon’s surface. Ones that would bring you to the halls of Gehenna.

  “I will do my duty, ma’am.”

  “Good. Now that that is taken care of, Captain Alcott, please pack enough provisions for however long you deem necessary. Everything will be at your disposal.”

  Sera recognized the smile plastered on Chair Renata’s face—one an owner would give a pet.

  “You are dismissed,” Renata said. Alistair gave her a curt nod and turned to leave the chamber. “Oh, and Seraphina,” Renata called out. “If you hope to use the coven’s resources to rescue your sister, you’d best ensure you don’t hinder this mission.”

  Sera’s mouth went dry. She nodded, then turned on her heel and followed Alistair out of the Council chambers.

  Chapter eleven

  Seraphina

  Their footsteps echoed through the halls, an unnerving sound amid the silence of the officers’ wing. This section of the barracks seemed to have been constructed similarly to the rest of the city. White marble tiles on the walls, and skylights above let rectangles of sun shine on every coven emblem stamped into the floor. It was understated compared to the chambers they had just left, but still beautiful.

  Alistair opened his office door, and Sera stepped inside.

  “Take a seat,” he said as he sat behind a desk that occupied most of the room. There was nothing around the office that indicated it was his. No trinkets or souvenirs, nothing. His father had died serving the Legion, that much she remembered. She had attended the lighting ceremony with Dominick and Colton. She still remembered the hollowed look on Alistair’s face when he lit his father’s pyre; he couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

  She sat across from him, wondering how this was going to go.

  “You seem nervous,” he said.

  “Why would I be nervous?” she squeaked, then quickly cleared her throat. He smiled at her then, a real smile revealing a single dimple on his cheek. Heat rose up her neck. As if the warlock wasn’t handsome enough, he had that fucking dimple.