A third shot rang out. This time, Rune felt the sharp sting of a bullet as it sliced her forearm. Warm, sticky blood seeped out.
She couldn’t afford to stop and check how bad it was. Right now, she needed to steer Lady away from Laila and her stinging bullets.
After that …
Rune stared at the lights of Seldom Harbor on the horizon, trying to think.
Two Blood Guard soldiers had seen the Crimson Moth at the old mine tonight. Rune Winters, therefore, needed to be seen somewhere else. Preferably far away.
She needed to get to the Creeds’ masked ball, and fast.
TWENTY-FOUR
GIDEON
GIDEON WAS HAULING HIMSELF up the last three rungs of the ladder when he heard Laila’s pistol go off. He glanced up to find his hunting partner desperately pulling on the door, her black ponytail swishing with every yank.
“Damn it!” Laila snarled. “She locked us in!”
Gideon pulled himself into the room. His wounded leg protested every step as Laila moved aside to let him try.
“Gideon, you’re bleeding …”
The Moth’s knife had missed the major arteries and tendons, but his thigh still hurt like hell. What annoyed him most, though, was not getting a look at her face before she plunged the blade in.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said, taking the tarnished metal latch in both hands and yanking on it.
The door didn’t budge.
I had her, he thought, throwing himself at the door. She was in my hands.
But why hadn’t she gone for his neck with that knife? The Moth was a coldhearted killer. Gideon had seen the corpses she’d abandoned in the city streets, ruthlessly bled dry.
So why aim for his leg?
Laila moved to the window. The pane was smashed. Lifting her gun, Laila aimed through the broken glass and fired three times.
“I think that last shot might have hit her,” she said, peering out.
The idea of Laila hitting her mark made Gideon stiffen.
If it was Rune …
Gideon scowled. Who cared if it was Rune? Rune or not, the Crimson Moth wouldn’t think twice if their situation was reversed—the proof was in his throbbing, bleeding leg.
And if it was Rune, he told himself, she’s a traitor to the Republic.
Whoever she was, the Moth had been in his grasp tonight. It was as close as he’d ever come. If he and Rune had been courting longer, he’d be able to tell if that slight frame pressed against him in the darkness belonged to her. He’d know how Rune felt beneath him and would have been able to compare it to the girl he’d pinned down tonight. But as close as he’d come to Rune Winters, it wasn’t nearly close enough to know the difference.
Gideon’s shoulder hurt from throwing himself at the door. He had just lifted his good leg to kick it down when Laila said, “It won’t work.”
She motioned to something out the window.
Striding over, Gideon glanced through the pane. A blood-red moth fluttered below the hanging lantern outside, its delicate wings thin as residue. Like a fingerprint he could almost see through.
“It’s a spell.”
Gideon sighed. It would likely be hours before it faded and the door unlocked.
He turned to Laila. “Did you get a look at her?”
Laila shook her head. “She kept her face covered and moved too quickly. We should have brought the hounds with us. And the Taskers.”
Gideon had intentionally left the Tasker brothers behind after they’d defied his orders and abused the last witch. Clearly that had been a mistake. Two more soldiers would have made the difference. Not to mention the witch-hunting hounds.
If Gideon were being honest, he hadn’t brought the hounds because the thought of siccing them on Rune made his stomach turn. He’d remembered her trembling beneath his touch in her bedroom; shivering in nothing but her underwear as he took her measurements.
Gideon had gone soft on a murderous witch—or at the very least, a witch sympathizer.
Fool.
He’d let her dupe him into thinking she was an innocent girl. Someone vulnerable and in need of protection.
He admitted none of this to Laila, who was smashing the rest of the broken pane out of the window frame with the butt of her pistol.
“This is what we know,” he said, giving up on the enchanted door, which wouldn’t open until the signature faded. “The Crimson Moth showed up at the wrong location tonight. A location I gave to only one person: Rune Winters. Even if she isn’t the Moth, she’s obviously in league with her.”
It was enough to arrest her.
“If it was Rune, she’ll know you set a trap for her,” said Laila, using the scarlet sleeve of her coat to clear glass shards out of the pane. “She’ll know we’re coming for her. I’d be on the first ship off the island if I were her.”
It was a desperate move. And though it was undoubtedly what any criminal should do if they wanted to escape him, the Crimson Moth didn’t strike Gideon as someone who made desperate moves.
There’s a masked ball at the Creeds’ tonight, Rune had told him that morning. You could meet me there.
When the window was free of glass, Laila pulled herself through and out the other side. “We should ride for the docks.”
“I have a better idea.” Gideon winced as he limped to the window, trying not to put weight on his wounded leg. “You head back to headquarters, assemble a hunting party, then go to the docks and make sure no ship leaves port tonight.”
From outside, Laila frowned at him. The lantern hanging above her head illuminated her face. “You’re not coming?”
“I’m going to your parents’ ball.”
Laila frowned harder.
“Rune invited me,” he explained. “If she wasn’t here tonight and the Moth is someone else, Rune won’t yet know this was a trap. She’ll be at Oakhaven Park.”
Grabbing hold of the windowsill, he glanced out at the moth still fluttering over the door.
“And if she is there?” Laila asked, stepping away from the window.
Gideon pulled himself through with a grimace. “I’ll arrest her for treason.”
TWENTY-FIVE
RUNE
THE GROUNDS OF OAKHAVEN Park backed onto a forest that spanned hundreds of acres. The home itself was modest compared to Wintersea House and had belonged to Seraphine Oakes before the queen sent her into exile.
Once a close friend to the Rosebloods, Seraphine fell out of favor with the previous queen—the mother of Elowyn, Analise, and Cressida. Nan never spoke of it, because it distressed her, but some believed that Seraphine’s power surpassed the royal family’s. So out of fear, or jealousy, or both, the witch queen banished her.
Oakhaven Park sat empty until the revolution, when the Good Commander gave it to his wife, Octavia Creed, as a spoil of war.
Some couples keep separate bedrooms, Alex joked once, others keep separate estates.
Though the wind had turned her clothes from sopping wet to damp, Rune still shivered as she rode Lady as far as she dared into the woods surrounding the property. Octavia kept a patrol, Rune knew, and she had no desire to run into it. Once she was inside the forest, shrouded by jack pines and balsam firs, her icy, trembling fingers unbuckled the saddlebag concealing her evening outfit.
Rune was happy to strip the damp clothes off her body. Standing naked in the breeze but for the sheathed knife strapped to her thigh, she tightly braided her wind-dried hair into an effortless style she’d watched Nan employ whenever they were running late to some function. It was still a little damp, but not obviously wet.
Next, she inspected the gash from Laila’s shot, which was still bleeding. Rune had been lucky. If Laila’s shot had been an inch closer, she’d have a bullet in her arm that would require digging out.
This was a flesh wound: bloody, but not deep. She withdrew one of the cotton strips she kept in Lady’s saddlebag for emergencies, bound it around the wound, and tucked the ends underneath. Thankful she’d had the foresight to bring gloves, Rune pulled them on, concealing the bandage, and donned her dress and shoes.