“I know it was a spell. Why was it targeting you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Rune slid down the wall to sit in the alley dirt. Black soot from the smoke smudged her face. “But if you had seen the look in Seraphine’s eyes … she wanted me dead, Gideon.”
“You think it was her?”
Gideon might not be a witch, but he’d spent the better part of two years in the constant presence of one. For Seraphine to cast such a powerful spell, she’d need a lot of blood and, more importantly, the use of her hands—which were encased in iron.
“It’s not possible.”
The back door to the kitchen swung open, and Gideon immediately reached for the pistol holstered at his hip. But it was only a wide-eyed child. Belonging to one of the kitchen staff, probably. The young girl held a glass of water in her hands and, after shooting a fearful look at Gideon, crouched down to give it to Rune.
“The spellfire’s gone, Miss Winters.”
After taking the glass with trembling fingers, Rune touched the girl’s cheek—a gesture that, for some reason, made Gideon’s chest tighten. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Gideon watched her gulp down the water, trying to make sense of it all.
A witch had tried to kill her tonight.
Witches didn’t kill other witches.
Therefore, Rune couldn’t be a witch.
Right?
When the child went back inside, and they were alone again, Gideon remembered Rune’s strange words to him a few moments ago. “What did you mean in the hall? About the flowers.”
Rune’s cheeks reddened. “I have no idea why I said that.” She quickly got to her feet.
“You were upset with me. Why?”
She looked away, fisting her hands. “Please, let’s just forget it.”
Gideon stepped toward her. Taking her face in his palms, he guided her eyes back to his. “Tell me.” Her jaw was clenched, so he ran his thumb along its edge until she relaxed.
Standing this near to her was dangerous. Like the moon and the tide, the closer he got to her, the closer he wanted her. Wanted her softness to chase away the memory of James Tasker’s bloodless face. Wanted her kiss to erase the ominous warning written on the alley wall.
Rune was a bright light burning in a long, dark night.
Except she’s not for you.
“I kept waiting for a telegram,” she said. “Or some other sign that maybe I’m not so easy to walk away from. But there was nothing until your note tonight—and that was only to say you’d be late.” She looked up at him. “I thought you were jilting me.”
“Jilting you?” Gideon’s eyebrows arched. He almost laughed. “Rune, I haven’t stopped thinking about you for three straight days.”
Her forehead creased in confusion. He was about to prove it to her, when the sound of footsteps crunching pebbles interrupted them.
Gideon let her go just as someone appeared at the far end of the path, silhouetted against the lights of the street beyond.
This time, Gideon did draw his pistol.
“Show yourself,” he called out, stepping in front of Rune to shield her.
“Merciful Ancients,” said a feminine voice. “I’ve searched the whole palace looking for you! Are you all right?”
Rune squinted into the distance. “Verity?” Stepping around Gideon, she started toward the voice.
“Wait,” he warned. “It could be an illusion.”
But Rune was already running.
“Why don’t you shoot me and see if I bleed?” said Verity, materializing out of the darkness. She slit her eyes at Gideon while pulling Rune into a hug.
“Tempting,” he said, holstering his pistol.
Rune cut him a stern look, then turned back to her friend. “Are you all right?”
Verity nodded. “I’m fine. But we need to get out of here. They haven’t caught the witch responsible for that fire. She could be anywhere.”
Gideon didn’t like the thought of Rune returning to Wintersea alone. Not after a witch tried to kill her. “Let me send soldiers to escort you.”
“I appreciate your concern,” said Rune. “But it’s unnecessary.”
“You were the target of that spell,” he pressed. “If the witch who cast it comes for you again, you won’t be able to stop her.”
“And you will?” asked Verity.
Of course I will, Gideon wanted to say. Except he was no match for a powerful witch, and they all knew it.
“I’ll be all right,” said Rune. Walking back to Gideon, she pushed herself onto her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for not letting me burn.”
He felt Verity’s eyes on him. She made no effort to conceal the fact that she thought him unworthy of Rune. Annoyed by her disdain and overcome by the sudden urge to prove her wrong, Gideon cupped Rune’s neck with both hands and captured her mouth with his, stopping her from leaving. He kissed her slowly, deeply. Claiming her in front of Verity. At least, that’s how it started. As Rune softened, and her hand slid up his chest, he forgot their audience entirely—just as Rune remembered it.
She pushed against him, halting the kiss, and stepped out of his reach.
“Buttercups are my favorite,” she whispered, breathless and walking backward. “But daisies are also acceptable.”
The corner of Gideon’s mouth turned up. “Noted.”
It went against all of his instincts, watching her walk away, not knowing what danger waited for her beyond this alley. But as Verity had pointed out, there was little he could do to protect Rune.
Except for catching the witch who’d attacked her tonight.
Behind him, the kitchen door swung open. Gideon turned to find Laila stepping out.
“There’s something you should see. But we need to be quick. It’s already fading.”
Curious, he followed her inside.
Back in the courtyard, which reeked of smoke but was devoid of spellfire, Laila peeled a scorched tablecloth back from a long table. She pointed underneath.
Gideon crouched down, ducking his head to see.
Something glowed in the space between the chairs, moon-pale and delicate.
“It’s a casting signature,” Laila said, her voice floating down from overhead.
Gideon dropped to all fours, squinting in its direction, trying to get a better look. He crawled under the table, the pebbles shifting beneath his knees, until he knew exactly what he was looking at.
He saw it every night in his nightmares. Found it carved into his chest every time he looked in the mirror.
A thorny rose enclosed by a crescent moon.
The sight of it made him nauseous.
“A witch was hidden among the guests tonight.”
The brand on his chest flared suddenly. Gideon rubbed at it, but the pain faded quickly, leaving him to wonder if it was just in his head.
Laila joined him beneath the table, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the signature. With her head bowed beneath the wood overhead, her gaze flicked between him and the floating mark. “Who does it belong to?”
The past rose up to bite Gideon, trying to drag him backward in its teeth.
He wished he could deny what was right in front of his eyes. That there was some other explanation. But he knew this signature like he knew his own name.
“It belongs to a witch who should be dead.”
His eyes met Laila’s.
“Cressida Roseblood.”
FORTY
RUNE
“QUITE THE PERFORMANCE,” SAID Verity as Rune’s carriage left the palace, bumping along the cobblestone streets. “With acting skills like those, you could audition for the Royal Theater.”
Beside her, Rune sighed. Verity was upset. She’d been worried sick about Rune, who she’d watched get engulfed by spellfire, and when she finally found her alive, Rune was flirting with an equally dangerous force: Gideon Sharpe.
“Truly. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were smitten with a Blood Guard captain who hunts down your own kind.”
Rune looked away, unable to escape the guilt flooding in. “I’m not smitten,” she said, watching the city center roll by through the window. “And I’m perfectly aware that he hates my kind. That’s why I’m letting him court me, remember? To steal his intel.”
“And how much intel have you stolen, exactly?”
Rune opened her mouth to answer, except the only information Gideon had given her was bad information.