RUNE SHIVERED IN THE breeze as she half walked, half ran back up the path through the woods, trying to put distance between herself and that beach as quickly as possible. The sun was long gone, and the trees were dark silhouettes around her. Her dress clung to her damp legs and her sopping wet hair dripped down her back.
But despite the chill, she was burning up. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
Witches are cruel by nature. If Gideon believed that, and he suspected Rune of being a witch, he would think her no different from Cressida.
Of course he’d pulled away when she kissed him. The girl she pretended to be—the shallow, gossipy socialite—annoyed Gideon. And the girl she really was … he wanted that girl dead.
Rune repulsed him.
How did I misread him?
She wished she knew a spell to disappear for a week straight. “Rune!”
Her heart skipped. Gideon’s voice was too close. She glanced over her shoulder, but the darkness cloaked everything beyond the glow of her lantern.
Turning toward the house, she quickened her pace. Not quick enough.
“Stop running from me.”
This time, his voice was right behind her. Rune was about to bolt when he grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop.
“You did nothing wrong.”
She shook her head, a fiery shame flaring through her. “I shouldn’t have presumed …”
He stepped in front of her, cutting her off from the path leading to Wintersea House. She couldn’t help but notice that, in his haste to chase her down, he hadn’t put on his shirt.
“You presumed correctly.” Then why pull away?
He’s lying to you. You caught him off guard with that kiss, and it cracked his facade. He doesn’t want to kiss you. He never did. He just knows how to play this game better than you.
Rune was about to dart around him, when a sudden sound echoed through the woods.
Voices.
Gideon turned sharply toward it. Rune, still breathless, spotted the owners of the voices first. The flames of half a dozen torches bobbed like fireflies in the distance, coming down the path.
“Someone’s coming,” said Gideon.
“Obviously,” said Rune, turning out her lamp. She grabbed Gideon’s hand and pulled him off the path.
At the sight of the marks carved into their foreheads, he frowned. “Penitents? They’re trespassing on your property.”
“They’re not trespassing.” She kept her voice down, stepping lightly through the underbrush, taking him further away from the path, where the thickening trees shielded them from view. “I allow them to use the footpaths.”
Gideon was invisible beside her, his hand still in hers, as the torches flickered past them.
“You allow them?”
She was glad he couldn’t see the truth on her face. I do more than that. Sometimes, if she knew no one would catch her, Rune left fresh bread and cheese out for them to take.
“They use the paths to get to the beach, where they fish after sundown.” Technically, allowing Penitents to use the paths on her property wasn’t
giving them direct aid, and therefore wasn’t illegal. “Are you going to report me?”
“No. It’s just … surprising.”
“There are children among them. As you pointed out earlier, I didn’t choose to be born into my position, just as those children didn’t choose to be born into theirs.”
“I’m not accusing you, Rune. I think it’s … admirable.” His warm hand squeezed hers.
Oh.
A strange silence descended.
Rune had loathed this boy since the day Alex first introduced them, and here she was, holding his hand in the dark. By choice.
The thought made her tug her fingers free.
Because he’d loathed her, too. Still did. Wasn’t that why he’d pushed away from her kiss?
She wanted to understand it. What, exactly, had he seen in her then that made him reject her so adamantly?
“Do you remember the day we first met?”
Rune had been thirteen. She and Alex had been friends for almost two years when, one hot summer day, he invited her to go cliff jumping in Nameless Cove. The cove, he’d told her, had the best cliffs for plunging into the sea. Rune had never done anything so daring, and the thought of it thrilled her. But it was on the wrong side of town. Nan had adamantly forbade Rune from visiting Alex’s home, which was in an economically disadvantaged part of the city.
But she’d said nothing about Nameless Cove. So Rune didn’t ask permission, or even tell Nan she was going.
When they arrived, she found a group of kids climbing the rocks and throwing themselves into the sea. One boy consistently climbed higher than the others and threw himself furthest.
The boy was Gideon, the brother Alex had told her so much about.
“How could I possibly forget,” Gideon murmured, pulling her out of the memory. The leafy canopy overhead was thinning, and with the moon shining through, Rune could see the frown marring his brow. “Rich girl
takes a tour of the Outer Wards to see how the dirty peasants live, and decides it’s not for her.”
“What?” Her cheeks burned beneath the accusation. She didn’t notice when the forest disappeared behind them.
“Isn’t that why you asked Alex to bring you?” “Alex invited me,” she said, defensive.
“Of course.” His jaw clenched. “To show you off like a piece of treasure.”
Rune looked sharply toward his silhouette. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
She shook her head as the long meadow grass swished around them, tilting in the wind and brushing her bare legs. “You were so rude that day. I thought you were the rudest boy I’d ever met.”
“Me?” He coughed. “I was rude? You’ve got it backward.” “You insulted my clothes.”
“I did not.”
“You did! You called my dress foppish.”
“Oh, that. Yes, I remember.” He rubbed a hand stiffly over his jaw. “The lace alone would have put three meals on the table of every kid swimming that day.”
Rune opened her mouth only to realize she didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know that wearing a designer dress to the Outer Wards was announcing just how out of reach you were to the rest of us?”
Out of reach?
“I was thirteen,” she said. “I’d never been past the city center. Alex was the only person I knew from the Outer Wards.”
They reached the wooden gate leading into the Wintersea gardens.
“I was so excited to meet you,” she murmured. He glanced sharply at her. “But you wouldn’t even shake my hand.”
As she opened the latch and stepped through, Gideon fell behind. “I had never done it before.”
She turned back. “What do you mean?”
“Only aristos shake hands when they greet each other. I … didn’t know what you were doing. It felt like you were condescending to me. Or trying to keep your distance.”
Rune’s mouth opened and shut like a fish.
“You didn’t know,” he said, as if plucking the words from her lips. “I see that now.”
“You could have given me the benefit of the doubt.” He sighed roughly. “Sure.”
“Sure?”
“What is it you want from me? An apology?” He threw out his arms beneath the glittering night sky. “I’m sorry I was rude to you, Rune Winters. Even at fifteen, I was an intolerable ass.” Lowering his arms, he studied her. “Will that suffice?”
“That’s not … I didn’t—” “Then why is this important?”
“I don’t know!” She balled her hands into fists. “I guess it hurt. I wanted you to like me.”
Rune suddenly felt more naked now than she had on the beach.
Gideon fell quiet, considering her. Wishing she could put the words back in her mouth, knowing she was giving him too much ground, Rune quickly turned and made her way into the gardens. She heard the gate swing open and shut behind her. It took him no time at all to catch up, matching her pace.
He stayed quiet for a long time as they walked between the hedges.
“I remember the sound of your laugh,” he said as the back door of the house came into view. “It pulled me like a magnet toward the beach, where I found the most beautiful girl in the world standing on the shore.”
Rune’s footsteps slowed as they approached the door. His stopped altogether.
“When I saw Alex at your side, I knew exactly who you were: Rune Winters. The girl Alex never shut up about. A girl who was entirely off- limits, because my little brother found her first.”
Rune frowned, irked by these words.
“That’s not the way friendship works,” she said, turning back to him. “Alex didn’t find me. He doesn’t own me.”
Gideon’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’m not talking about friendship, Rune.”
A shiver rushed across her skin.
Lifting his thumb to her bottom lip, he dragged it slowly across. His touch was like a switch, turning on an electric current that flickered through her.
“What about you?” he asked.
His eyes were bottomless pools. If she stared long enough, she might fall into them and never climb out.
“What about me?”
“You thought me the rudest boy you’d ever met.” His voice was low.
Rough. “Is that all you thought?”
Rune swallowed. No. No, it was not all.
She remembered watching Gideon jump from the cliffs that day. The way his body arced through the air like a shimmering fish. No crowing bravado, only the quiet self-assurance that came with competence.
“You were … impressive.”
“Impressive,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth approaching a smile. “Anything else?”
Rune bit down on her lip, not wanting to admit the rest. She remembered that same boy encouraging the younger kids who weren’t brave enough to jump alone, climbing down from his heights to jump with them.
“Everyone admired you,” she confessed. “It was impossible not to. But you weren’t cocky about it, even though you could have been.”
He drew back, as if her answer surprised him.
Is this still the game? she wondered. Or is this real?
That she couldn’t tell unsettled her.
In the silence, Rune became intensely aware of him: the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the smell of the sea on his skin. He’d pulled his shirt on as they walked, and she stared at the buttons now.
“Do you still think I’m foppish?” she whispered.
Of all the questions she could have asked him … why had that one come out of her mouth?
His mouth quirked. “Yes.” He reached for her ribs, cupping them with strong hands. “Do you still think I’m a brute?”
“Def—”
His mouth brushed the corner of her jaw, sending a rush of sensation across her skin and making her breath hitch. It wasn’t a kiss, exactly. More of a caress. He moved lower, pressing his lips to a more sensitive place on her neck.
Rune’s pulse skipped. She closed her eyes.
Gideon moved lower still, to the base of her throat. Kissing now. Tasting her. When his teeth grazed her collarbone, Rune inhaled sharply, fisting her hands. The soft insistence of his mouth was a dangerous undercurrent, threatening to drag her downward.
His kisses continued, increasing in urgency, trailing over her skin. Was this real, or were they still pretending? She pushed her hands into his hair, cradling his head, silently telling him not to stop.
Should she invite him in? Invite him up?
If she could get away for a few minutes, she could cast Truth Teller, and this time she would draw the spellmark on something useful.
Rune tried to keep her wits intact as his hands slid into her hair. As he pressed her against the door. She felt magnetized. Unable to resist the pull of him.
Focus, she told herself.
There was one rule she didn’t break in the games she played with her suitors. She might invite them back to her bedroom to coax out information, but she never brought them into her bed. It was a line she didn’t cross.
Would that line hold with Gideon?
As he kissed along her jaw, the words tumbled out of her. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I …”
Rune glanced up, her body humming. His eyes were ink-dark and ravenous. This was happening. She was going to open the door and they
were …
Gideon stepped back.
Cold air rushed into the space between them. “Perhaps another night,” he said.
Wait … what?
Rune straightened, trying to recover from her shock. “It’s getting late. I should go home.”
“Right. Of course.” The sting of rejection made Rune glance away. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch your horse.”
He shook his head. “There’s no need. I know where your stable is. I can fetch my own horse.”
She was about to insist—she would be a poor hostess otherwise—when he interrupted, catching her hand.
“Rune.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “I would like to come in, but I promised to go slow with you.” Lifting her hand, he kissed the sensitive part of her wrist, making her shiver. “And if I step through that door tonight, I’m afraid I won’t keep my word.”
A wild feeling swept through Rune. She didn’t want him to keep his word. She wanted him to take her upstairs. This instant.
“Good night, Miss Winters.”
Turning away, he headed for the stables. Rune watched him disappear around the side of the house. Shakily, with her back to the wall, she sank to the terrace stones.
She could still taste him on her lips. Still feel the ghost of his hands on her ribs.
He doesn’t actually want you.
Her skin tingled everywhere he’d touched her.
You’re falling for his tricks.
Gideon was winning at this game. Because what they’d done tonight, Rune wanted to do again—for reasons that had nothing to do with rescuing witches.
“I loathe him,” she told the shadows in the garden, trying to remember all the reasons this was true.
But her voice trembled as she said it.
