Rune’s eyes sparkled as she reached out her gloved hand, positioning it high in the air. She stepped in closer, settling her other hand on his shoulder. “Ready, Captain Sharpe?”
Beneath the soft weight of her grip, Gideon tensed.
What am I doing?
He didn’t know this song, never mind the steps of whatever dance it cued.
Unlike the couples already moving around him, mirroring each other as they glided and twirled along with the melody, Gideon stood frozen as a statue while Rune held herself gracefully poised, ready to dance.
Her eyebrows arched, as if to say, What are you waiting for?
His neck grew hot beneath his collar. “Miss Winters …”
She must have heard it in his voice, because she quickly lowered her hands and stepped back. “Oh. You … don’t know how.”
Most of her friends still watched them, some of them murmuring behind their hands. Were they laughing at him?
Was she laughing at him?
He thought again of another girl. Another party. One where he’d been paraded around and humiliated.
Gideon thought he’d extinguished that shame. But it flared now like glowing embers.
Harrow was mistaken. Gideon had no chance in hell of successfully courting a girl like Rune. He’d just arrived and was already embarrassing her. When she realized he had no wealth or grand estate—he’d given his spoils of war to Alex after the revolution—she would join in their laughing, if she hadn’t already.
He needed to salvage this.
Remembering Harrow’s advice, he closed the distance between them.
“If we were at a different type of party,” he said, close to Rune’s ear, “I could give you a different answer.”
Another memory seeped up, filling his mind with the fast-paced melody of a fiddle. He could see his little sister in her cotton nightgown, still awake despite it being far past her bedtime. The humidity of the kitchens made her hair curl and stick to her sweaty skin as she danced with the dishwashers, cotton towels tucked into their waistbands. The cook, cheeks pink from the ovens, stood in the corner slashing his bow across his fiddle as the palace staff clapped and stomped and passed around a skin of ale before joining in the dancing themselves.
Sweet memories were rare for Gideon.
This one almost made him smile.
But as the memory faded and the flickering lights of the room around him came back into focus, he remembered that Tessa wasn’t here. He’d buried his little sister deep in the earth, where she’d never dance again.
Because of a witch.
Remembering where he was, and who stood before him—a girl who might be a witch in disguise, a girl who loved to be the center of attention—he said, “I seem to have scandalized your guests. I wonder if we should give them something more to discuss?”
Rune turned her face to his, clearly intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”
Getting you alone.
Alone, she would be vulnerable.
“Care to give me a private tour of your home?” It would provide him with the opportunity to search not only Rune for evidence of witchcraft, but also her house.
A smile curled her pretty mouth. “Of course. I should have offered.”
Her hand slid into his, surprising him. She was smaller than he’d realized, her palm nearly half the size of his.
“Come with me.”
Gideon let her plunge them through the murmuring guests, scattering their gossip like moths. For such a small thing, her grip was startlingly strong as she led him to the grand staircase on the other side of the room. Letting go of his hand, she started upward, leading them out of the noisy ballroom.
He was halfway up the steps behind her when a familiar voice called from below.
“Gideon?”
With one hand on the railing, Gideon froze, then turned to find his brother standing at the bottom of the stairs. Alex had discarded his suit jacket somewhere in the room, revealing brown suspenders over a crisp white shirt. His eyes flickered to Rune at the top of the steps, and back to Gideon, who stood between them, then lowered to the pale blue ribbon tied around Gideon’s wrist.
“What are you doing here?” Alex demanded. “You hate parties.”
“Not all parties,” said Gideon, thinking again of the ones he and his sister used to attend after midnight in the palace kitchens.
“This kind, you do. Which means you’re here hunting.”
“Rune invited me,” said Gideon, a little defensive.
“No doubt.” Alex’s eyes narrowed on Rune. To her, he said, “I’d like to claim my dance now.”
Gideon glanced back to find Rune’s eyes full of bullets, all directed at Alex.
Sweet Mercy. What had he walked into?
Rune clearly did not want to dance with Alex. And if she truly was the Moth, Gideon didn’t want his brother anywhere near her.
“She’s already promised me a tour of the estate,” he said.
“I’ll give you a tour,” said Alex, moving up the steps. “After I dance with Rune.”
His brother wasn’t even looking at him; his icy glare locked with Rune’s.
This was not a battle he wanted to be in the middle of. But if Gideon hoped to convince Rune he was truly vying for her affection, he needed to stake his claim. Doing so would drive a wedge between him and his brother, and there was already a sizable fissure in their bond, one cracked open years ago that had been growing wider ever since.
He thought of the casting signatures on Rune’s cargo ship.
I couldn’t protect Tessa, he thought, watching Alex. But I can still protect you.
He was about to cut his brother off when Rune herself stepped between them. Alex stood on the stair below hers, peering down at her.
“The song is already over, Alex. You’ll have to wait until next time.”
Before he could argue with her, Rune turned and left both brothers behind, her rust-colored gown shimmering as she went. At the top of the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes glittering in the gaslight. It was darker there, and the shadows sharpened her edges.
“Coming, Gideon?”
He paused, shooting an apologetic glance back at Alex.
I’m doing this for you.
But his brother didn’t look wounded. He looked worried.
Exactly who Alex was worried about, Rune or Gideon, was hard to decipher. And he didn’t have time to figure it out. Fixing his attention on the task at hand—unmasking the Crimson Moth—Gideon quickly caught up to Rune. Together they left the party, and Alex, behind.
TEN
RUNE
RUNE’S FINGERTIPS PRICKLED WITH annoyance.
Yes, Alex had warned her away from his brother. Yes, Rune had flat-out disregarded his warning. But she had expected a scolding from him, not a direct attempt at sabotage.
She would have to nip his meddling right in the bud—as soon as she’d won over Gideon.
How am I going to do that?
She’d been expecting to leave the party with Bart or Noah tonight. Gideon was a very different type of suitor. Not only did he hunt witches for a living, there was also a good chance he suspected Rune of being one. It might even be why he was here tonight.
She wondered about his change of heart—was his irritation in the opera box actually due to fatigue? Or had something come to light about Rune that he needed to investigate himself?
She simply couldn’t trust him.
Rune thought about Verity’s mimic spider, Henry, pretending to be weak in order to catch predators in its web.
Verity’s right. She needed to be like Henry.
Rune had invited her greatest predator into the heart of her home. Now she had to ensnare him here so she could finish him the way she’d finished so many others before: by plying him with wine from the cup she had enchanted. Truth Teller would compel him to tell the truth without realizing he was being compelled.
As Gideon Sharpe’s long-legged stride caught up to Rune, she remembered the scene from the ballroom. It surprised her that he didn’t know how to dance, since Alex was such a proficient dancer.
But that’s because I taught him, thought Rune. Clearly no one had taught Gideon.