Chapter no 33

Rebel Witch (The Crimson Moth, #2)

RUNE

“YOU CAN NEVER BE too prepared,” said Rune as they emerged from the wooded park. Gideon had kept watch while she hid in the trees, enchanting their jackets with a reversal spell called Witch’s Armor.

It’s for repelling harm, she’d told him, quoting the spell book she’d learned it from. Like armor, the spellmarks will deflect a knife aimed at your chest, or make bullets bounce off you.

What Gideon didn’t know was that Rune had also drawn the marks for a beguiling spell on the inside of her wrist, hidden by the sleeve of her uniform.

Beguile wasn’t as coercive as Truth Teller. It was a simple Mirage spell, one Cressida had shown her when Rune still believed her to be Verity. According to Seraphine, Nan had used Beguile, too, often during business dealings to help with persuasion. It couldn’t force someone to do what she asked, but it nudged them in that direction. Essentially: it made the wearer difficult to resist, though not impossible.

It wouldn’t work on someone like Gideon, for example, who delighted in opposing Rune. But young guards wanting to impress a pretty girl? It might work on them.

They approached the yellow house. The front gates were open, revealing statues of two Ancients flanking the front steps: Patience and Justice. Patience held an hourglass in her hands; Justice bore a bandolier across her chest.

Only a single guard stood outside the front door. Rune guessed him to be about nineteen or twenty. It was dinnertime, and Gideon knew that half the staff were on their breaks. This was part of their strategy: the amount of

security would be diminished for the next half hour or so, increasing their odds of not just getting in but getting out.

At the sight of Rune and Gideon, the guard stood straighter. Possibly because of their red uniforms, or because he recognized the Blood Guard captain.

Gideon nodded a silent greeting.

“Hi,” said Rune, turning up the brightness of her smile like the flame in a lamp.

The guard was tall and broad, though not as tall and broad as Gideon, and his light brown hair shone with hints of red where the sunlight hit.

His gaze fixed on Rune, running down her uniform. It fit her perfectly, because Gideon knew her measurements. He’d taken them himself, not so long ago.

“Can I help you with something?” asked the guard, his attention still wandering over Rune.

“We’re here to collect the witch’s child,” Gideon said, interrupting the guard’s perusal. “The Commander needs her at the palace.”

The guard tore his gaze from Rune and straightened at Gideon’s commanding tone. “The child was already at the palace this morning. Do you have papers?”

Rune shot Gideon a look. Papers? He might have mentioned needing papers.

“There wasn’t time to draft them,” she said. “It’s a last-minute request from the Commander’s office.”

“I’m afraid I need to see papers before I can let you in.”

Time to improvise.

“I told you this would happen, Captain.” Rune pivoted, as if to leave. “We should have insisted on—Ow!” Rune winced, grabbing her ankle as if it pained her. “I think I—” Pretending to lose her balance, she stumbled backward and fell right into the guard. “Oof!”

He caught her around the waist, steadying her. “Are you all right?”

From this close, she could smell the shaving soap on his skin. Rune leaned into him, still holding her ankle as she balanced on one leg. “I’m so sorry … it’s my bad ankle. It acts up sometimes.”

She glanced at Gideon, whose eyes were narrowing.

Well, it’s not like you were getting us anywhere helpful.

“Don’t put any weight on it,” said the soldier, who scooped an arm under both her legs, lifting her. “I’ll take you to the parlor. You can rest there while I find someone to call for a physician.”

She looped her arms around his neck. “That’s so kind of you, but I don’t want to be a bother…”

The Beguile spellmark grew warm against her wrist as Rune ran a finger along the collar of his jacket. The guard watched her movements, entranced.

Swallowing, he said, “It’s no bother.”

Rune gazed up at him through her eyelashes. “What’s your name?”

He carried her through the doors and into a small parlor room. “Ed.” He shook his head. “I mean, Edmund. My friends call me Ed.”

“Edmund,” she purred.

Over the guard’s shoulder, Gideon glowered at her.

“I’ll ask the housekeeper to fetch the physician.” Edmund put her down on the settee. “Stay here.”

“Of course.” Rune turned her glowing smile on him again. “I won’t budge from this spot.”

The moment he was gone, Rune rose from the settee. Gideon stood like a thundercloud by the door, still glaring at her.

Ignoring him, she peeked her head out into the hall, watching Edmund disappear around a corner. “Let’s find the nursery before he realizes we’re missing.”

When all was clear, Rune stepped into the empty hall. Gideon followed.

Even the walls here were yellow. Like butter melting in the sun.

They passed household staff going about their duties: a woman hauling a basket full of laundry; a man bringing in fresh-cut wood from outside. Rune smiled at each one, acting like she belonged here. Hoping Beguile would work on them, too.

When they were finally alone, Gideon growled: “Was that really necessary?”

“Was what necessary?”

She found a set of stairs and climbed them. The nursery was on the third floor. Rune had noticed it from the boardwalk: an open window facing the harbor front, where a mobile of twirling clouds hung above a crib.

That room was their destination.

“You didn’t need to flirt with him.”

Rune bristled. Really? “My flirting got us inside. You should be thanking me.”

But Gideon was the opposite of thankful. He was surlier than ever. “That guy doesn’t have a chance with you,” he said as they hit the

second floor, where the stairs ended. “You know it. And I know it. But he

doesn’t know it. Encouraging him to think otherwise is cruel.”

“Cruel?” Rune threw him a look, prickling as she strode down a hall with freshly washed floors and daffodil wallpaper. She looked around, searching for the stairs to the third level. “That’s rich, coming from you—a boy who hunts girls for a living.”

“Witches,” he corrected. “I hunt witches.”

A door opened further down. At the voice issuing out, they hesitated, glancing toward it.

“I left her in the front parlor,” said Edmund, the soldier she’d duped, as he stepped into the hall. “She couldn’t walk. I think it may be broken…”

Edmund was about to turn and spot them when Gideon grabbed the sleeve of Rune’s uniform and yanked her into an empty room, shutting the door behind them.

Rune blew out a breath, grateful despite herself for his quick thinking.

She glanced around. They were in some kind of personal library, with shelves full of books, a writing desk, and windows overlooking the water.

Luckily, the room was empty.

Rune cracked the door open to peer out. Edmund still stood at the end of the hall, speaking with the other staff member. Blocking their way forward.

They were stuck here until he left.

Gideon leaned against the wall, listening to the muffled conversation.

His words from a moment ago needled at her.

“This may be hard for you to believe,” she whispered, watching the guard outside, “but not everyone is repulsed by me.”

Gideon glanced at her. “What?”

“Just because you’re disgusted at the thought of me doesn’t mean everyone else is,” she said, keeping her voice down. “Some people like it when I flirt with them.”

“What are you talking about?”

Annoyed that Edmund was still speaking to the staff, she shut the door and turned to Gideon, who stood facing her. “That night on the ship, when we kissed. You pulled away like I was…”

She glanced away, remembering the appalled look in his eyes. As if he couldn’t believe what he’d done.

Rune wished she didn’t care. But she did.

“Like you were what?” he growled, keeping his voice down.

She fixed her gaze on the polished floorboards beneath her feet. “Like I was a horrifying monster.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not…”

Gideon fell silent, watching her. As if considering something. He unbuttoned his jacket.

She stared as he tugged it off, then untucked his shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Putting this to rest. Right now.”

Watching him undress was making her temperature rise. “Putting what to rest?”

“This ludicrous idea that you repulse me.”

“I do repulse you.” Her eyes met his dark ones. “You said so yourself.”

“What?” His fingers paused at the uppermost button of his shirt. “When?”

Rune cracked the door open and peered out. Edmund was heading back in their direction.

She shut the door.

Grabbing Gideon’s arm, she tugged him through the bookshelves and across the library, where their conversation was less likely to reach the hall.

“The day you handed me over to be purged,” she whispered as she pulled him down the aisle between shelves. “You said you weren’t sure

what disgusted you more—the fact that I was a witch, or that you fell for my act.”

“Rune.”

He halted, forcing her to stop walking. She glanced back to find him staring at the ceiling, as if praying for patience.

She let go of his arm.

“You’d betrayed me in the worst possible way.” His gaze dropped to her face. “I’d just discovered you were the criminal I’d spent two years hunting

—not to mention secretly betrothed to my brother. I was heartbroken! You told me Alex was twice the man I’d ever be!”

“Because you were handing me over to die!” she whisper-hissed, turning fully toward him.

Gideon ran a palm over his face and sighed. “Fair enough.” Dropping his hand, he fell silent, considering her. “Since we’re airing our grievances: it kills me watching you seduce other men.”

“Because it’s cruel. Got it.” She turned away, heading toward the writing desk, which was the furthest point away from the hall.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Not because of that.” Rune glanced back at him.

“Watching you flirt with them makes me…” He made a sound low in his throat. “It makes want to go to the shooting range and fire off a hundred rounds, imagining I’m firing at them.”

Rune stared at him. What was he saying? That he was jealous?

“I hated watching you flirt with Abbie.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I hate that you lied to me about her.”

He let go of her and drew back. “I lied?”

Voices in the hall made them both go quiet, glancing to the door. When it didn’t open and the voices passed, she dropped her voice to a whisper again. “You told me Abbie was an old friend. But she’s not. She’s more than that.”

His entire demeanor darkened. Like a coming storm. “Did William tell you this?”

William the spy? she wanted to shout. But Gideon didn’t know she’d overheard his conversation, and she intended to keep it that way.

“William saw you and Abbie go to our cabin together. Alone. Why would you do that, unless it was to…” She bit down on the rest of that sentence.

Why was she asking him this? Did she really want to know? “To do what?” he growled.

She fisted her hands and glared up at him. “You tell me.”

He stepped toward her. Rune stepped back.

“To kiss her?” His voice rumbled through the aisle as he continued walking, and she continued backing away. “To rekindle some old romance? Is that what you want to hear?” This seemed to enrage him. Why it would, she had no idea. Why did he get to be angry about her romantic entanglements, but she couldn’t question his?

Rune bumped into the desk directly behind her. He’d backed her right up against it.

“You want to know? Fine.” He moved in close, taking up all her air. “Yes. I kissed her.”

The thought of it—his mouth on Abbie’s—felt like a bullet in her heart. Which made no sense.

He was planning to kill every single witch she’d come here to save. He was plotting against her even now. He was a coldhearted brute. Abbie could have him!

But Rune’s heart and her head refused to align. They were two ships on different courses.

Her heart had gone rogue a long time ago.

Gideon seemed to be waiting for her next barb. As if they were in a boxing ring, and he wanted her to throw another punch. But any response was pointless. He’d won the match by admitting to that kiss.

She nodded curtly, letting him know she wanted out of the ring. She was done with this conversation. Rune tried to step out from between him and the desk. If Edmund was finally gone, they needed to look for the child.

“We are not finished.” Gideon pressed his hands flat on the desk, one on either side of her, preventing her from leaving. “I had to watch you kiss that

stupid prince. Do you think that was fun for me?”

Soren?

That wasn’t at all the same!

Rune didn’t even bother trying to break the cage of his arms. “You think I enjoyed kissing Soren?”

He towered over her, his face inches from hers. “It’s hard to tell, with you.”

Did he think Soren Nord was what she wanted?

Fool.

“I hated it.” The words were ash in her mouth. “I kissed him because I had to.”

Wasn’t that obvious?

But no. To Gideon, Rune wasn’t a girl fighting to stay alive. She was an aristocrat used to getting what she wanted. She was a witch who bent people to her will.

“You have no idea the kinds of things I’ve had to do to stay alive,” she said.

His eyes hardened. “I have some idea.”

Because of Cressida, she realized. Gideon had been at the witch queen’s mercy for a long time. He too had done things he didn’t want to in order to survive.

“I know a lie lived over and over will destroy a person,” he said.

Rune’s eyes burned. She glanced away, but evidently not before he saw the tears in them. Because he lifted his gloved hands to her cheeks, turning her face back to him. It took all of her willpower not to lean into his touch.

His thumb brushed across her jaw, tracing the line of it. It was so unfair, the way a single touch from him made her ache for more.

“Rune, the truth is—” He swallowed. “—the entire time I was kissing Abbie … I wanted her to be you.”

What?

Rune frowned up at him.

“Then why were you so horrified when you did kiss me?”

He dropped his hand to her belt and curled a finger through one of the loops. As he pulled her closer and leaned in, his breath feathered against her

throat. “Mind if I demonstrate?”

Rune’s pulse kicked. She glanced at the door across the room.

I should check the hall.

But she didn’t.

This was the truly terrible thing about Gideon: he made her feel invincible. Like there was no danger she couldn’t get out of. Rune first felt it as the Crimson Moth, spending her nights outwitting him. She felt it again now, in a brand new way.

Soon enough, Edmund would discover the parlor room empty and come looking for them. But it didn’t matter, because so long as Gideon was on her side, so long as they were a team, there was nothing she couldn’t do.

It was irrational. Mad, even.

It scared her as much as it thrilled her. She glanced at his mouth. “Show me.”

Suddenly, Gideon’s lips were seeking hers, and hers were answering. Their mouths clashed. Her blood heated. His hand pressed against her lower back, pulling her closer. Burning a hungry fire through her. He captured her mouth again and again, making it clear how not repulsed he was.

Their kisses turned desperate. Like their lives depended on never coming up for air. Rune’s pulse hammered as his palms settled firmly around her waist and he lifted her onto the desk. When he stepped between her legs, pulling her flush against him, Rune hummed deep in her throat.

She was prepared to give this boy whatever he wanted so long as he promised to never stop.

I’m doomed, she realized. Gideon Sharpe will be the end of me.

With his mouth still devouring her, he drew her hand under his untucked shirt. Sliding her palm up his chest, he pressed it to his scar. Rune felt the raised skin beneath hers. Cressida had branded him years ago, like he was nothing more than an animal, and now the brand was warm beneath her palm and growing warmer.

Hot.

The hotter it grew, the more Gideon stiffened, his muscles growing taut.

Just like when he’d kissed her on the Arcadia.

Only this time, Rune recognized it for what it was.

Pain.

Rune tried to pull away, but he had her pinned to the desk. And even though something was wrong—that was clear to her—Gideon wrapped his hands around her thighs and pulled her closer, tighter, as if he didn’t want to let her go.

Or perhaps he didn’t want her to let him go.

“Rune…” He leaned her back, lowering her down to the desk. Rune wanted nothing more than for them to continue this horizontally. Except his whole body was trembling, as if he was trying to hold off something excruciating.

“Gideon. Wait.” She pressed both hands to his chest. “What’s wrong? I feel like I’m … hurting you?”

Her words seemed to break the spell. Either that, or he couldn’t take the pain any longer. Gideon wrenched himself out of her embrace and stumbled back, his brand glowing ember-red through the white of his shirt. As if a scorching-hot iron were searing his skin.

Rune’s breath trembled out of her. What had Cressida done?

Gideon bumped into the end of a bookshelf. He grabbed hold of it, using it to steady himself while his whole body shook.

Rune pushed herself down from the desk. Wanting to go to him; unsure if she should.

“It’s a curse,” he said. “It’s why I kissed Abbie. To find out if anyone can trigger it or just … you.”

Rune’s lips parted, but no words came out. Me. “It happens when I touch you. Skin to skin.” Her blood roared in her ears. “Just me?”

He nodded.

Feeling lightheaded, she pressed a hand to the desk, letting it bear her up. “So you and I, we could never…”

He shook his head.

Never.

The word was like an echo in an empty cavern.

Rune pushed off the desk. Pacing. Her hands tightened into fists as a tempest welled inside her.

Gideon watched her, a conflicted expression creasing his brow.