Last, she put on her mask for the evening: a white fox face with pointed ears.
Fully dressed, Rune opened one more saddlebag and pulled out four sheets of tracing paper and a fountain pen. After folding the sheets and rolling them tightly around the pen, she tucked them down the front of her bodice.
Taking her whistle out for the third time tonight, she blew two long notes into the thin metal cylinder, telling Lady to go straight home. The moment the horse trotted away, Rune followed the footpath through the trees, allowing the house lights in the distance to guide her.
Normally, it would be exactly Rune’s style to arrive fashionably late, waltzing in through the front doors and announcing herself to everyone. Tonight, though, she didn’t want people to notice her delayed arrival. She wanted people to think she’d been here the whole time.
Drawing nearer to the house, Rune contemplated going in through the kitchens, pretending to have gotten lost, but that would only make the servants talk. As she drew nearer still, she eyed the windows. They were close enough to the ground for her to open and climb through without soiling her dress. She’d decided on going in through the windows when voices nearby caught her attention.
“All that’s left to do is sell Thornwood Hall.”
Alex? Rune was so relieved by the sound of his familiar timbre, she almost missed the words he had spoken.
Sell Thornwood Hall?
She tucked her questions away for later. Adjusting her mask, she donned a more tedious costume, one that was second nature by now: the guise of a superficial girl who cared only for designer dresses, extravagant parties, and juicy gossip. Rune stepped out of the woods, heading toward the ring of young men circling a fire that blazed in an ornate iron fire pit.
Her eyes found Alex in an instant, despite their masked faces. Through his lion mask, he gazed into the fire. As if pondering a problem that was plaguing him and searching for the answer in the flames.
Unlike his brother, who was built like a soldier, Alex had a slender frame. As a devoted musician who spent his days practicing and composing, he often forgot to eat.
At her approach, Alex’s attention snapped toward her.
“Rune?”
Seeing him was like a drowning woman sighting a buoy. She wanted to throw herself in his direction, loop her arms around his neck, and hold on for dear life.
She did none of these things.
“The darkness sure turns you about!” Still shivering, she stepped toward the delicious warmth of the fire. “I came outside for some air, and the next thing I knew, I was lost in that jungle.” She motioned to the woods behind her.
The gentleman wearing a wolf mask said: “I didn’t realize you were here, Rune.” The voice belonged to Noah Creed. “Did you just arrive?”
Before she could spin the story that she’d prepared, Alex unbuttoned his coat and dropped it over her shoulders.
“Your teeth are chattering. Let’s go inside before you freeze.”
The warmth of his body was still in the fabric, and Rune soaked it up. Wanting to thaw herself out further—and give Noah an answer—she put her hands to the fire. “Oh, but—”
“I insist.” Alex pressed his palm to the small of her back, turning her away from the heat.
The tone of his words, which sounded friendly, had a sharpness beneath for Rune alone. She glanced up to find his golden-brown eyes sapped of warmth. From the way his lips thinned, he wasn’t only worried, but angry, too.
Angry at me?
Too tired to resist, she let him lead her toward the house. Glancing over her shoulder, she waved goodbye to Noah and the boy in the frog mask—Bart Wentholt, she guessed, from the red hair.
She’d implemented the first part of her plan: to be seen at this party. All she needed now was Alex and Verity’s cooperation to make it seem like she’d been here the whole time.
In the fire’s absence, she pulled Alex’s wool jacket firmly around herself. He silently led her out of the gardens, past the cherubic statues, and up the stone steps to the house. Servants bustled past them, some carrying empty trays from the ballroom bursting with music and chatter, while others rushed toward it with trays full of drinks and desserts.
Rune had turned to follow them when Alex grabbed her hand. Sliding his fingers through hers, he pulled her in the opposite direction.
“There’s no need to manhandle me,” she said, getting irritable. The less irritable half of her was surprised at the fingers interlaced with hers. They’d never held hands before.
Alex ignored her. “Where have you been?” he said, his jaw clenched as he tugged her down a long, empty corridor. The gold foil of patterned ferns glittered against the dark green wallpaper. “I’ve been thinking the worst.”
“There was no time to tell you.” Rune glanced over her shoulder while keeping her voice down. “And it was too risky to send a telegram. Promise me something? If I start acting strange—scary-strange, like saying or doing mean things for the pleasure of it—you must tell Verity, okay?”
What Verity would do, Rune didn’t know. But once a witch started corrupting herself with bad magic, she began to crave its power like a drug. After that first hit, it was difficult to resist coming back for more.
Rune did not want to go down that path.
“What are you talking about?” said Alex.
She didn’t feel any different. But maybe no one did. Maybe a witch had no idea what was happening to her until it was too late.
Before the hall turned, Alex opened a door, his hand still gripping Rune’s as he pulled her into the room.
It smelled like books and burning wood inside. Bookshelves lined three of the four walls. Letting go of Alex’s hand, Rune trod across the woven carpet, drawn to the light of a crackling fire in the hearth, and passed a massive oak desk.
I’ve been here before.
Her gaze shot to the wall over the fireplace, and there it was: the map of the palace prison.
A map she needed if she had any hope of saving Seraphine.
Alex had remembered and brought her straight to it. The realization warmed her more deeply than the fire. “Alex, you’re—”
“You still haven’t told me where you were tonight.”
Alex stood behind her, the friendliness stripped from his voice, leaving only the sharpness as he removed the coat from her shoulders. Still shivering and not ready to part with its warmth, Rune almost seized it, then realized he was peeling it away to look at her arm.
Her silk glove had blood seeping through it.
Oh no.
Was that the real reason he’d draped the coat over her?
Did Noah and Bart notice?
More gentle than his tone, Alex turned her toward him and started tugging the glove off her fingers, one by one. The thin silver ring on his smallest finger glinted in the firelight. “How did this happen?”
“Laila shot me,” she said, watching the silk slide down her arm to reveal the makeshift bandage, which was good and soiled. “Or shot at me. I was lucky; she mostly missed.”
Alex went quiet. It was so rare for him to get angry. But she could feel the anger in him now, coiled tight like a spring.
“And why was Laila shooting at you?”
“I was at the old Seldom mine, looking for Seraphine. Your brother set me up.”
Alex’s gaze narrowed behind his lion mask. “What do you mean, he set you up?”
Taking the ruined glove, Rune threw it onto the fire, destroying the evidence. She slid off the second one and burned it too. Hopefully Verity had worn gloves tonight that she could borrow. Otherwise, she’d need Alex to escort her home with his coat over her shoulders—and that would certainly make people talk.
Boys who let girls wear their coats home were making their intentions known.
But if they’re busy talking about Alex and me, thought Rune, they won’t be wondering about when I arrived.