“Hmm.” He smirked.

  “Dominick seems to think you should be placed with Colton. Why are you in the Citadel?”

  Alistair leaned back in his seat, entwining his fingers behind his head, lounging. Oh, he knew what he was doing all right, showcasing the lines of his muscled body, tilting his head so the light would bounce off his sky blue eyes. But as he considered her question, his smile dimmed a bit. “I was placed here.” He shrugged. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “About what?”

  He gave her a pointed look, and if she could have melted into the floor, she would have. “Sera.” He leaned forward over the desk, as if he were about to reveal her deepest, darkest secret. “I know you had a crush on me when you were younger. Is that going to be a problem?”

  She scoffed. “I’m not a witchling anymore, Al.”

  “The blush across your cheeks might say otherwise.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s a little awkward, okay. There, does that make you happy?”

  “A little.” He shrugged, and that dimple lit up again.

  “You’re a real ass, you know that?” She pushed her hair back off her shoulders. Sure, she’d had a crush on him when she was younger. Most of the witches did, and he looked half as good then as he did now. He probably had women lined up for him every night. “I was a witchling, and you broke my naive little heart when you turned me down for the solstice ball. Woe is me. Give me a break, Al.”

  “Oh, come on, Minnow.” His jesting smile faded.

  “No.” She pointed at him. “Don’t Minnow me.”

  “Okay. Serious business only.” He held up his hands in surrender. She shifted in her seat and crossed her arms. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what is your magic again?”

  She gritted her teeth, and as if the darkness had heard him, it awoke. She clenched her stomach to try and calm it.

  “Barijara,” she said, and pulled her barrier forward. Her skin turned from brown to a shimmering blue light.

  His face was blank. “You got to Dobro level with that?”

  Sera launched from her seat and turned for the door.

  What an entitled prick. He’d teased her relentlessly as a child, but she was done with this.

  She’d almost made it to the door when Alistair hissed behind her, shaking his hand as if she had burned him. She hadn’t even felt his touch, but her magic must have done its job.

  “All right,” he said, “I’m sorry. I guess it’s kind of useful. Would you please sit back down so we can finish the brief?”

  She didn’t enjoy hurting people, especially after the incident in Feybury, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of pride that washed over her. And how the smugness had been wiped clean from his face.

  “I’d never thought I’d hear you apologize,” she said and returned to the plush chair, waiting for him to be seated again.

  “One of my magical abilities is travel,” he said. “I’ve never been to Ironoak, so we’ll arrive near Crowpass tomorrow.”

  “You’re a traveler?” Travelers were exceedingly rare. They could move at great distances within the blink of an eye. But she didn’t remember hearing that Alistair was one of them.

  “From there,” he continued, “we will go to Ironoak on foot, or horseback if we are lucky. Once we find the oracle, I will bring her back to the Citadel.”

  “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

  “And your plan is?”

  She scrunched her brows together.

  “The doorways, Seraphina. Moons.”

  “If I had been awarded a little more time, I would have done extensive research.” Sera crossed her arms. They had to be in the Deadlands or near it. That was where Gehenna’s underground kingdom was. The heat from below warmed the land above it, making it barely habitable. At least that’s what the texts she had accessed said. “Do you have the map Chair Renata mentioned?”

  Al nodded and opened a drawer on the desk. He unrolled the map, using magic to keep it in place as she reviewed it. This was a more up-to-date map than the one Renata had quizzed her on. The locations of the cities she had pointed out had been labeled, as had the human kingdoms. Sera placed her palms on the map and traced the border lines, searching for inconsistencies. She didn’t know why, but even now, this felt like a test.

  “What do you see, little fishy?”

  Sera peered at him through her hair. He was staring at the Deadlands. “I see a map, you troll.”

  He lifted a brow at her. “Troll?”

  Seraphina smiled to herself and pointed at the area in the center of the Deadlands. “Ceasefall was the largest aboveground fortress the demons held in the first six centuries of the war. There had to have been a way into the fortress without moving their army across the land.”

  Alistair sighed. “That’s deep into the Deadlands.”

  It was. Deeper than she’d ever dreamed of going, but if Nora was being held there or below it, she had to try. There were more ruins besides Ceasefall. “Does the Legion know for certain that Ceasefall is abandoned?” Sera asked.

  “No.”

  She traced her nail down the line where the supposed forest met barren wasteland. “There are outlying ruins, yes?”

  “There are a few, but I can get information on others.”

  Sera nodded. “Then that is where we will start.” She’d never thought she’d be headed that far east. Digging up artifacts was a dream, yes, but in the ruins skirting demon territory? It took effort to pull in a lungful of air around the weight that seemed to be sitting on her chest.

  “The oracle first, then your doorways.”

  “Nora is down there. Don’t you get that?” He wasn’t smiling now. “I need to get this map back to the Council as soon as possible if I have any chance of getting her back here alive.”

  “This mission, first and foremost, is to find Ophelia Fray and bring her back here. The doorways are a side mission, and frankly, not my responsibility.”

  Fire burned through her. How could he not care? He knew Nora. Sure, she had been much younger than him, but he’d seen her play and tag along with Sera and Dominick for most of their youth. She was real, not just another casualty. “How dare you—”

  “We leave at dawn. You’re dismissed.” Alistair’s face was a cool mask, one that said his word was final. It was written in the hard line of his jaw.

  She wouldn’t fight him, not now. Not while she needed to calm down before she burned the prick alive. Exiting his office, she searched for a sign indicating the location of the sleeping quarters. Her skin was boiling. She needed to distance herself from him. His face, his smart mouth.

  “It’s left,” he said. Sera couldn’t help the scowl as she stomped down the left hall.

  Chapter twelve

  Seraphina

  He was late. Mister High-and-Mighty Captain was late.

  Alistair had said dawn, and the sun was about to rise, so where was he? She dressed in her new uniform and leaned on the doorframe of the witches’ sleeping barracks, waiting.

  Sera ran her fingers through her curls, doing her best to separate the knots from them without creating too much frizz. The thought had crossed her mind more than once that Alistair was doing this on purpose just to fuck with her, all while his comment from yesterday grated in her ears.

  I know you had a crush on me when you were younger. Is that going to be a problem?

  How conceited could he be? She hadn’t seen him in years, and the first thing he did was tease her when Nora was in danger? Then his comment about how the oracle came first? Even now, it made her blood curdle.

  She thought storming out of his office yesterday had been an act of defiance. Unfortunately, she’d gotten lost almost immediately and wandered around corridors for an hour or more. A witch had seen her staring down the fourth set of hallways she’d come across and took pity on her. She led Sera to the sleeping quarters and pointed out an empty bunk.

  The moment Sera had lain down, she’d wished she’d just gone home and risked being late. At this point, it wouldn’t have mattered, since she was waiting for him.

  Sera’s stomach grumbled.

  A group of three Legion members passed her in the hall, looking regal in their uniforms. She was dressed the same, but they looked better, stronger. Not even in matching clothes could she fit in. Sera stepped out behind them, hoisted her pack, and hoped they’d lead her to the dining hall. The soldiers were whispering to one another about their orders and exchanging gossip. Nothing too scandalizing: something about a warlock getting demoted, another about a witch being ordered to the demilitarized zone.

  While she followed the group, she passed more drawings of the Mesar, displayed at random throughout the halls. Last night, she’d even seen one stuck to a mirror in the witches’ washroom. Red-lipped kisses marked the paper, as well as hearts and inventive phrases full of innuendo. It seemed the Legion worshipped the famed demon hunter.

  She guessed she would have had more appreciation for the Mesar if she’d been placed in the Legion. He was a sign of strength against their enemy. Only one person at a time was selected for the role. When the Mesar died, another was promoted—but there was no glory in it, since the Council kept the Mesar’s identity secret. No ceremonies or medals, just killing. Why anyone would want the position was beyond Sera.

  When they were children, Colton and Alistair used to take turns pretending to be the famed slayer. Sera and Dom were always low-life demons responsible for dying dramatic deaths.

  As she rounded the corner, the scents of breakfast wrapped around her, and her mouth watered. The sounds of cheerful conversation between soldiers filled a large room of tables, some occupied and some not. Along the front wall, an array of food was stacked high. Any breakfast dish you could imagine.

  Sera grabbed a tray and piled cinnamon buns, a cup of tea, a taste of oatmeal, and her favorite—a chocolate tart. She found an empty table in the corner of the dining hall and sat, savoring the bliss of the cinnamon bun’s sweet frosting. As it hit her taste buds, she closed her eyes and gave a little moan.

  “You need meat.”

  Her eyes flew open to Alistair sitting across from her, straddling the chair backward, his dark hair freshly cropped, his blue eyes striking under his brown brows. Frosting stuck to her cheeks and chin when she pulled the bun away. Frantically wiping her face, she said, “You’re late.”

  Alistair gaped at the pile of baked-together dough and sugar in a heap before her.

  “I’ve been here an hour already, Minnow. I got sick of waiting for you to wake up.”

  She’d told herself not to let him bait her, not to react, so she focused on other things. His uniform was different. The sun emblem was missing; a basic straight-collared navy shirt with rolled sleeves showcased his tanned forearms. His boots and pants were the same brown as hers. She glanced at the sun on her shirt and then back at him. “Why do you get a plain shirt?”

  “Because I’ve been here longer.”

  She scoffed and sipped her tea.

  “Really, though, you should eat something with more substance. In a few hours, you’ll wish you listened to me.” He rose from his seat and stopped at several tables to converse with other soldiers. All of them greeted him with a smile or a laugh. Shadow help her; she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, the way he moved, commanding the entire room.

  Instead of sly jabs, he patted his comrades on the back, gave them sincere congratulations. He allowed his colleagues to tease him. When she was fifteen, she would have sold her soul to get that kind of attention.

  A moment later, he smiled at her from across the room and tilted his head to the door.

  And now he’s caught you staring, Sera. Great job.

  Sera wrapped the chocolate tart in a cloth napkin and placed it in her pack. Clearing off the rest of her lonely table, she followed Alistair Alcott outside.

  The walls around the Citadel fortress were as white and pristine as the buildings themselves. When they were little, Dominick and Nora would join her in sneaking up the ramparts to glimpse the sea. The walls blocked most of the cool ocean breeze, knitted with brine and mist, from reaching the city streets. Dominick always tried to spit on the sentries below, no matter how often his father punished him when he succeeded.

  Sera adored the time she spent watching the waves and would stay as long as she could before Nora made an unconvincing birdcall to warn them of guards.

  Nora. Was she eating? Was she hurt? Sera’s chest ached with the thought of her baby sister afraid and alone. The sooner she found this oracle and the doorways to Gehenna, the better.

  Alistair led her through a steel-gated archway set into the northern wall and waved at the guard to let them through. The screeching of iron chains rang out as the gate lifted just high enough for her and Al to duck under.

  “Why aren’t we traveling from inside the walls?” she asked. The area surrounding the Citadel was desolate swampland. The briny water that flooded the ground during storms killed the trees’ roots, leaving skeletons of twisting branches bleached corpse gray.

  “Most coven members don’t know I’m a traveler, and I plan to keep it that way,” he said while mud sucked at the bottoms of their boots. The sun had started to rise over their part of the world, its pink and orange hues glossing over the pale blue of the morning light. She rarely watched a sunrise. She’d forgotten how beautiful they were.

  “I’d think being a traveler would give you all kinds of special privileges.”

  “My position requires… subtlety.”

  Of course he would squander his power’s privilege. Sera grunted against the mud gripping her boot and pulled her foot free seconds before she stumbled.

  “Are you ready, Wildrick?” Alistair held out his hand. She hesitated, lifting a brow at him. “Coven founders, Sera. I have to be touching you to travel.”

  The darkness in her gut began to twirl. She swallowed and glanced from his hand to his face. This was it. She was leaving her home.

  Alistair stood there, assessing her.

  Sera beheld the golden spires glinting in the sunlight. She took in the white domes peeking above the tall walls that protected her coven from the outside world, and breathed in one more deep breath of the ocean wind.

  Her sister needed her. It didn’t matter that she was terrified or that everything was about to change.

  “Okay,” she said, but instead of putting her palm in his, she looped her arm through his elbow and waited. She could almost feel his eyes roll.

  “Don’t puke,” Alistair said.

  “Wha—”

  Chapter thirteen

  Seraphina

  Traveling felt like standing up too fast. Her heart slowed as the blood rushed to reach her brain. She breathed in through her nose and out her mouth to keep from expelling the dough and sugar she had inhaled earlier. Meat wouldn’t have stayed down any better than cinnamon rolls, though, and despite the churning in her stomach, she didn’t regret her decision.

  Somewhere in the pocket of the universe, she went from having her arm looped through Alistair’s to hugging him tight around the middle, keeping herself upright. Her nose was buried in his tunic, enveloped in his scent of sage and sea salt.

  Of course he smells good.

  “Are you all right?” Alistair asked.

  She opened her eyes and looked into his. The light blue outer ring held a golden center that burst from the pupil, lined by dark lashes. She wished she could swim in them. “I think so,” she whispered.

  “Can you let go of me then?” His arms splayed wide.

  She stepped backward and dusted off her uniform, desperate to look anywhere but at him, and hid her burning cheeks. So incredibly stupid. They had been out of the Citadel all of ten seconds, and she was already embarrassing herself.

  “Which way do we go?” she asked.

  The forest’s canopy reached to caress the clouds. Some of the trees successfully dipped their leaves in the cerulean sky. Their bark was thick and rough, with protruding knots from the damage of fallen branches. She’d never seen a tree trunk that thick before. The trees near the Citadel were skinny and easy to chop down, with papery bark that peeled with a gentle breeze. These looked like they would take forever to fell.

  Even the air smelled divine here. The forest’s essence was ancient and organic, leather and loam. Sera basked in the mossy tang, all while a cool breeze caressed her cheeks and rustled the greenery around her.

  “That way.” Alistair pointed forward and hoisted his pack higher on his shoulder.

  “Why didn’t we just land inside the town? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

  “I always arrive a few miles outside a location. It allows me to assess,” he said.

  “You mean make an appearance, in your case.” She gave a little snort at her joke.

  He didn’t seem amused. “Right.”

  The walk to Crowpass was quiet and slow. Each step became more painful as her new boots rubbed her in all the wrong places, but she still delighted in the gentle hum of the trees. The leaves entranced her. The way they rustled as they walked through the underbrush and over dead logs, the vivid greens and browns—it was unlike anything she’d seen before. The Citadel was almost sterile compared to the calm beauty of these woods. She couldn’t help but stare at the high branches.

  “There are bigger trees in Ironoak, I’ve been told,” Alistair said, interrupting her admiration of the forest around her.

  “I can’t imagine it,” she said.

  “Well, we’ll see for ourselves soon enough. The eastern companies often tell me it’s the hardest wood on the continent.”

  “What came first? The name of the trees or the town?”

  Alistair peeked over his shoulder at her, revealing a small flash of a smile and that damn dimple. “I think it was the trees.”

  Sera couldn’t stop the fluttering in her chest. When he was young, he’d been so skinny that the natural soft hollow hadn’t fully formed when he smiled or smirked, not as much as it did now, with his jaw so well developed.