She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Alex knew the thoughts in her head.
“Rune, no. My brother is a danger.” He gently gripped her bare shoulder, turning her to face him. “To you especially.”
“Your brother is a danger to every witch in the New Republic.” She tugged herself free of his hand. “Seraphine especially. If I don’t find out where he’s put her …”
Didn’t he understand? She didn’t know where Seraphine was or when they planned to transfer her. For all Rune knew, she might already be en route to the palace prison. And if she was …
I’ll never get her out. They’ll kill her like they killed Nan.
Once the Blood Guard brought a witch inside the prison, Rune couldn’t save them. The prison was impregnable.
And if I don’t save her, I’ll fail to do the last thing Nan asked of me.
It was unacceptable.
“Rune.”
“What other choice do I have?” she said, coming back to him. “You won’t do it.”
As loyal as Alex was to the Crimson Moth, to her, he drew a line at his brother. Under no circumstances would he ever manipulate Gideon the way he, Rune, and Verity manipulated the rest of their peers. Rune had asked him once, and watched his bright gold eyes dim. His uncharacteristically sharp answer—Absolutely not.—stopped her from asking again.
Rune knew Alex had helped kill the youngest Sister Queen, Cressida Roseblood. He never spoke of it, except to say that he had done it for Gideon. At which point, he turned the conversation to other things. Rune didn’t know what that meant. Had Gideon asked him to kill Cressida? Had he forced him to? Or had Alex done it to save his brother, somehow? The latter, if true, struck Rune as odd, since Gideon was the violent one; a natural predator. Unlike his brother, Alex was warm and kind and scorned the killing of witches. Not to mention, he was devoutly loyal to Rune.
The problem was, he was equally loyal to Gideon. Sometimes Rune suspected he was more loyal. But for some strange reason, it didn’t make her trust him less. She knew, in her heart, Alex would never betray her.
He would just never betray his brother, either.
Which often put them at odds with each other.
Once, Rune might have understood Alex’s devotion to his brother. Years before the revolution, Rune had wanted to earn Gideon’s approval. Alex was her closest friend back then, and though Rune hadn’t met Gideon yet, she’d heard stories about him. Biased stories, she now knew, told by Alex. Who worshiped his older brother.
Young, naive Rune had believed the stories. And the more of them Alex told her, the more she felt like she knew Gideon. She soon developed what some might call a crush. It was important, therefore, that she make a good impression the first time they met.
In retrospect, the whole thing was childish and absurd.
When they did meet, Rune was thirteen and Gideon fifteen. He not only refused to shake her hand, he outright insulted the outfit she was wearing: a dress she’d selected for the sole aim of impressing him. When Alex asked Gideon to apologize, he refused.
Alex’s stories were wrong. So wrong. She learned that day it was the one thing he couldn’t be relied upon for: accurate judgment of his brother.
Gideon was a beast of a boy, and Rune never cared to win his esteem again.
“I’ll cast an illusion,” she told Alex now, her fingers tapping the corked vial of blood concealed in her dress. Blood she’d collected from last month’s bleeding. “He won’t know it’s me.”
Except Rune only had one full vial left after this one. Once it was gone, she would have nothing until the start of her next monthly cycle. And she needed as much blood as possible to save Seraphine.
Alex shook his head. “He’ll smell the magic on you. Gideon’s not one of your moony-eyed suitors, Rune. He’s—”
“So I’ll invite him to my after-party.” Where she would keep his cup full of enchanted wine and probe him with innocent questions that would lead to the answers she needed.
“He hates parties.”
Rune threw up her hands and hissed: “Then I’ll think of something else!”
She turned her back on Alex and was about to walk away when his strained voice said, “I’m sick of watching you walk into danger.”
She paused, sighing as she stared out into the empty foyer. “Then don’t watch.”
Rune didn’t wait for him to respond. She stepped out of the alcove—
And straight into a Blood Guard uniform.
FIVE
RUNE
HER FOREHEAD COLLIDED HARD with a chest as solid as concrete. The force of the soldier’s stride would have barreled her over had he not grabbed her elbow, steadying them both.
“Forgive me …”
Rune looked up. Straight into eyes as black and cold as a bottomless sea.
Gideon Sharpe.
His penetrating gaze seemed to cut her open, peeling back the layers of the girl she pretended to be. Like a knife carving off the protective skin of an apple to get at the soft, vulnerable flesh beneath.
Rune’s stomach tumbled over itself. She yanked her elbow out of his grip and staggered back, her heart beating fast. The Blood Guard captain before her—responsible for sending more witches to their executions than any other soldier—straightened, his features shifting from startled surprise to something dark and unreadable.
Rune cursed herself. The Crimson Moth might have reason to cower from this monster. But Rune Winters—the silly, shallow heiress she pretended to be—wouldn’t think twice about it.
Before she could find her courage, Gideon’s gaze ran sharply down her. The force of his attention was like a rifle aimed at her heart. It made her pulse race and her breath stick in her throat. Rune was a deer, and he was a hunter. Taking her measure, noting every detail and flaw, trying to decide if she would be worth the hunt.
A second later, he frowned and looked away.
Evidently, she wasn’t.
“Citizen Winters. My apologies, I—”
Gideon’s incisive gaze flicked over her shoulder, drawn to the sudden movement of his younger brother emerging from the alcove. At the sight of Alex, his rigid form relaxed.
Gideon stepped around Rune as if she were not only disappointing but entirely forgettable. “Alex. What’s the matter? You look perturbed.”
“What? Oh.” Alex shook his head. “Nothing at all. Must be the terrible lighting.” He motioned to the gaslights glowing on the walls.
Gideon cocked his head, unconvinced.
Alex quickly changed the subject. “When did you get back?”
“This evening.”
The two brothers were inverse mirrors of each other. They had the same tall frames and handsome features: firm jaws, prominent brows. But where Alex was golden and warm as a summer day, Gideon was closed and dark as a locked, windowless room.
The two brothers were also the sons of the Sharpe Duet—a pair of lovers who started as humble tailors during the Reign of Witches. When their work caught the eye of the Sister Queens, Alex and Gideon’s parents were recruited by the Roseblood family to become the royal dressmakers, launching them to short-lived fame. Both died that same year, right before the revolution.
Anyone in fashionable circles still fell reverently quiet whenever someone spoke the dressmakers’ names.
“And?” Alex was saying, his voice a little strained. “Was your hunt successful?”
Gideon sighed and ran a hand roughly through his damp hair. “Despite an unfortunate incident, yes. We have the witch in custody.”
He’s speaking of Seraphine.
Rune felt her mask slip further as she remembered the torn clothes discarded in the mud. Had he and the others laughed as they stripped the garments off of the woman’s back? She thought of the red X smeared across Seraphine’s door, knowing whose blood he spilled to mark it.
Like a deer shaking off the paralyzing fear of its hunter, Rune reached for her voice, ironing out the hatred before speaking.
“What kind of unfortunate incident?”
Gideon glanced over, as if surprised she was still standing there.