CATHERINE DOYLE’s The Dagger and the Flame is a fiery enemies-to-lovers romantasy.
Read on for an extract…
ABOUT THE BOOK
In the dark underbelly of a beautiful city, two rival assassins are pitted against each other in a deadly game of revenge, where the most dangerous mistake of all is falling in love…
In Fantome, a kingdom of cobbled streets, flickering lamplight, beautiful buildings, and secret catacombs, Shade-magic is a scarce and deadly commodity controlled by two enemy guilds: the Cloaks and the Daggers – the thieves and the assassins. On the night of her mother’s murder, 17-year-old Seraphine runs for her life. Seeking sanctuary with the Cloaks, Sera’s heart is set on revenge. But are her secret abilities a match for the dark-haired boy whose quicksilver eyes follow her around the city?
Nothing can prepare Sera for the moment she finally comes face-to-face with Ransom, heir to the Order of Daggers. And Ransom is shocked to discover that this unassuming farmgirl wields a strange and blazing magic he has never seen before…
Among rumours of monsters stalking the streets and the rival guilds grappling for control of Fantome’s underworld, Sera and Ransom are drawn together by something more than just magic and must face a deadly choice – forgiveness or vengeance? Kiss or kill? Dagger or Flame?
EXTRACT
Chapter 11
Seraphine
The Dagger came from nowhere, stepping out of thin air as if Sera had conjured him with the strength of her own fear. He towered over her now, dressed head to toe in black. No cloak, but he didn’t need one. Shade moved inside him. In the moonlight, she could see it writhing beneath his olive skin. A black whorl breached the collar of his sweater, and she cursed herself for not spotting the shadowmark at the marketplace. A white scar sliced through his bottom lip. She had been too distracted by his eyes to notice that either.
Those eyes were quicksilver now, and hard as steel.
‘Dancing swan,’ he said, flashing his teeth. No sign of the warm, honey-gazed curiosity he had shown at the Rascalle. He cocked his head. ‘Or is it dangling swan?’
She squared her jaw, summoning a mask of defiance. ‘I’m not going to make this easy for you.’
His smirk grew. ‘I like a challenge.’
Sera wanted to punch the smile off his smug face, then spit in it for good measure, but she was too busy clinging onto the gargoyle for dear life. ‘My friends are coming for me.’
He tossed her a pitying look. ‘Don’t you know? There’s no honour among thieves.’
‘What would you know of honour?’
‘You’d be surprised, Seraphine.’ She hated the way he said her name. Like a deadly caress.
‘How long have you been following me?’
He narrowed his eyes, as if he was deciding whether to kill her outright or continue the conversation. A shadow curled around his arm, waiting to strike. More swarmed at his feet, straining to taste her. ‘Quite a while,’ he said. ‘But you already know that.’
‘For a Dagger, you’re not exactly subtle.’
He leaned forward and plucked a shard of glass from her hair. ‘For a Cloak, neither are you.’
She glowered up at him. ‘Stalker.’
‘I prefer the term assassin,’ he said, tossing it aside.
‘What about gutless prick?’
He stroked his stubbled jaw. ‘No, I don’t think I like that one.’
Sera’s eyes darted. Above her, the dogs were still barking. Below her lay the cobbled street and beside it the rushing waters of the Verne, too far down to reach. And even then, the current would sweep her away. Or she could hop down onto the narrow walkway beside the balustrade, but she’d have to fight him for a foothold. And he had every advantage. He was a foot taller than her, broad-shouldered, with strong arms and long legs. Then there were those violent quicksilver eyes and the arsenal of shadows at his disposal. He was Death itself.
But she was not dying tonight. No. She refused to let it end like this.
She just needed a second to think.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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