GIDEON
“TELL US, SHARPE: HOW’D you convince that poor, sweet girl to marry you?”
They were below deck, in the Crew Alleyway—a long hallway meant for employee use, in the ship’s second-lowest level. Around them, stewards, servers, and restaurant staff rushed past.
Poor and sweet were not words Gideon would have chosen to describe Rune.
“Actually,” he said, thinking of the pistol pointed at his head while Rune dictated her terms in the wedding shop’s fitting room. “She convinced me.”
“Ha!” laughed Ash. “Good one.”
They were so close to the engine here, Gideon felt the vibrations beneath his feet. The sound of its thumping echoed through the Alleyway like a giant heartbeat.
“I swear it’s true.” She coerced me.
Gideon was still thinking about the way Rune fit against his chest: soft and warm and small. He didn’t know why he’d asked about her dream, because the way she’d called his name in the dark last night was best forgotten. She’d never said it like that before—half cry, half moan.
What exactly had they been doing in her dream?
He glanced back to where Rune trailed far behind, with William at her side.
Gideon had been reluctant to leave her with that boy—whose hungry look betrayed him, even if Rune was determined not to see it. But he
needed to know if Abbie was Harrow’s spy. Even if she wasn’t, she might know who was. The only way to find out was to engage her.
He needed to be careful, though. If Abbie was a New Republic spy, and there were witch sympathizers among them—Ash had all but admitted to being one earlier—Gideon didn’t want to get her reported.
“You used to despise aristos,” said Abbie from beside him. “You used to reject their invitations and avoid their parties.”
Gideon still did that. He’d rather get his ribs broken in the boxing ring than make polite conversation in a ballroom.
“She’s not your type in other ways, too.”
He raised a brow. For someone he hadn’t seen in a year, she was being very forward.
“I didn’t realize I had a type.”
“The Gideon I knew liked to be challenged.” Her brown eyes met his, as if daring him to contradict her. “He enjoyed being kept on his toes. The Gideon I knew had stared into the darkness, and carried it with him.”
Two crew members rushed by, forcing Abbie out of their way and closer to Gideon.
She lowered her voice so only he would hear her. “He would never be happy with someone who couldn’t stare into the darkness, too.”
“And Kestrel can’t?”
She shot him a look. “She’s sweet. But she’s not your equal. She’s the kind of girl who cares more about a muddy hem than whether she can hit a moving target.”
Gideon coughed to disguise a laugh, trying to imagine the Crimson Moth worrying about dirt on her clothes.
“I used to think that, too.” He knew better now. There were depths to Rune he might never reach.
He glanced back again to find Rune’s eyes on him. Their gazes snagged.
What was William telling her?
He didn’t like leaving her alone with that guy. He should go retrieve her.
Except this was why he’d come: to suss out Abbie and tell her what he was planning, so if she was Harrow’s spy, he could convince her not to report him.
“The last time we spoke, you were working for the Tribunal. What happened? How did you end up”—he glanced around at the Crew Alleyway’s cramped quarters—“here?”
A different beat echoed through the hall now, competing with the engine’s sound. Something more melodic and wild.
Music.
“I got annoyed with the bureaucracy.”
As they drew closer to the sounds of revelry, Abbie led him through a door and into a dark, warm, boisterous room full of people. Some stood at the edges sipping drinks, others played cards at tables, and still others danced in the center. Abbie had to shout to be heard over the music.
“It was Harrow who suggested working on ships. If you get on the right ship, you can wake up in a different port every morning. I started on the Arcadia, to get experience. But at the end of this week, my contract will be up, and I can transfer to a bigger ship.”
Gideon studied her. Had she intentionally dropped Harrow’s name? Or was that coincidence?
“When was the last time you and Harrow spoke?” he asked as their group descended on an empty card table.
“The last time we docked in the capital.” Which would have been roughly a week ago.
Are you working for her? he wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare in such mixed company. Are you her spy?
Abbie took a seat at the table. If he joined her, he wouldn’t be able to ask. And he needed to, because if she was the spy, he needed to tell her what he was planning before she reported him, or—if she had kill orders— before she hurt Rune.
Gideon looked to the whirling, stomping dancers. “Abbie?”
She turned back around.
He held out his hand to her. “Dance with me?”
The corner of her mouth turned up as she took his hand.
As he led her into the dancers, Gideon looked to make sure Rune was still in view. She and William weren’t at the card table with the rest of
Abbie’s friends. Gideon scanned the room, but there was no sign of her. Realizing he didn’t even know if Rune had followed them in, he stopped walking.
“Is everything all right?” asked Abbie.
“I…” He turned in a circle, scanning the walls, the tables, the dancers. “Have you seen my wife?”
“She seemed friendly with William,” said Abbie. “I’m sure he’s taking care of her.”
There was an edge in her voice. Like she meant something else.
Gideon frowned, remembering the way William had tried to insert himself in Rune’s booth last night, plying her with wine. She was a beautiful girl, sitting alone. Gideon had been under no illusions about what he wanted, even if Rune had.
But Rune was a master of seduction herself. Surely she could see his game.
Right?
Gideon hesitated.
If he was wrong, if Abbie wasn’t working for Harrow, then the spy was still at large while Rune wandered through the ship, oblivious to the danger.
He let go of Abbie’s hand.
“I’m sorry. I need to find her…”
Before someone else does.
