A bird?
Nan’s voice suddenly appeared in Rune’s mind: Promise me you’ll find Seraphine Oakes, my darling.
Rune had been so busy trying to accomplish the first part of Nan’s request, she’d never given thought to the second.
She’ll tell you everything I couldn’t.
“She wanted you to train me,” said Rune. If she had any hope of surviving what came next, she would need as much help as she could get.
“Who?”
“My grandmother.”
Seraphine’s thin brows shot toward her forehead. “Did she, now?”
“I think it’s why she asked me to find you. I think, somehow, she knew I was a witch.”
Beside her, Seraphine’s chest rose and fell with a sigh as she lowered her mug.
“You have a lot of catching up to do,” she said, looking Rune up and down.
Rune was about to say she wasn’t afraid to work hard, that she was determined to learn as much as she could, when Cressida glanced up, catching her gaze.
A chill dug into the base of her spine.
There was something insatiable in the witch queen’s expression. It was the look of a predator. Someone capable of killing innocent Verity de Wilde and subsuming her identity so perfectly, no one noticed. Someone capable of ensnaring brave Gideon Sharpe, then breaking his spirit into a million fractured pieces.
Gideon.
Rune had been desperately trying not to think of him.
She tore her gaze away from Cressida, unable to deny the Gideon-shaped hole in her chest—like a bullet wound.
He walked in her dreams every night. Those dark eyes filling with hate, penetrating straight to her heart. His stern mouth cursing her name, swearing to hunt her down. When she woke, her cheeks were wet from weeping in her sleep. Crying out for him and the life—the partnership—she’d been deluded into thinking he wanted with her.
Rune had to remind herself, every time, that they were mortal enemies. That their hatred for each other was what wove them together—not love or affection. And this was why it felt so wrong to have an ocean between them: the Blood Guard captain had been hunting the Crimson Moth for so long, she felt lost without him trailing her.
Gideon was her perfect rival; a deadly enemy to outwit. Without him, Rune could only be half of her full potential. It was why, deep down, she wanted him to come for her. She ached for the challenge of him. She needed to finish what lay unfinished between them.
Turning back to the porthole, Rune stared out at the cold sea. She didn’t know what lay on the horizon; the future was shrouded in mist.
Only one thing was certain.
Gideon would come for her, and when he did, Rune would be ready.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First of all: thank you to Baroness Orczy for giving us The Scarlet Pimpernel, a story that has lived in my imagination since childhood and (loosely) inspired this one.
Special thanks to Danielle Burby, for believing in this story so hard and always setting the bar so high.
Thanks to Vicki Lame for taking a chance on this when it was just an idea and helping me turn it into a Real Book. And to the team at Wednesday Books for being so darn amazing: Vanessa Aguirre, Sara Goodman, Eileen Rothschild, Kerri Resnick, Alexis Neuville, Austin Adams, Brant Janeway, Alyssa Gammello, Chris Leonowicz, Eric Meyer, Cassie Gutman, and Martha Cipolla.
Thanks to Taryn Fagerness, for giving this witch and her hunter wings to fly across the world.
Thanks, Elizabeth Vaziri and Ajebowale Roberts, for championing this book, and the entire team at Magpie for bringing it to UK readers.
Tanaz, Jo, Rosaria, and Eloise: for reading early drafts and giving me razor-sharp feedback. Thanks also to Emily and Whitney for speedy proofreading!
Canada Council for the Arts: thank you for funding this project. It’s easy to talk the talk, but you folks truly walk the walk when it comes to supporting women artists and working mothers. My endless thanks to all of you.
Extra-special thanks to Jolene, Dad, Mum, Art, and Myrna for watching the baby while I wrote this book. I could not be both a mother and a writer without your tremendous help.
Sibyl, thanks for changing my life for the better.
Last (and best) of all, Joe: for doing the laundry, making the meals, reading the drafts, building me a writing shed, and doing this wild and precious thing called life alongside me. I love you, Comrade.