GIDEON
HALF AN HOUR AFTER Rune left his apartment, Gideon stood in the supply room of the new Blood Guard headquarters. He’d ridden straight here and given the order to move most soldiers to the main harbor, where the Crimson Moth would make her escape.
Or so he’d led them to believe.
But Rune wouldn’t be smuggling witches aboard the Arcadia tonight. The moment Gideon had first accused her of it, she would have abandoned the idea. No, Rune would avoid the main harbor, expecting Gideon to double the security.
But his soldiers didn’t know that.
And Gideon intended to buy Rune as much time as possible.
Grabbing an old, rolled-up map of Cascadia—from before the revolution, when this fort had been abandoned—he spread it out across the table. To lay it flat, he pinned one edge with his lamp and the other with Rune’s knife, lodging the tip into the wood beneath.
“If I were Cressida,” he murmured, scanning its lines in the lamplight, “where would I hide my sisters?” Close to the capital, where she could easily replenish the spell preserving them? Or as far from the Blood Guard as she could get?
It was only a matter of time before Cressida figured out who Rune was. So long as Elowyn and Analise’s corpses were out there, fully preserved, Rune’s life was in danger. No matter where she ran, she would be hunted.
But if he found the bodies and destroyed them? Rune would be safe.
Gideon’s gaze traced the map, following the roads leaving the capital and pausing at Thornwood Hall, Cressida’s former summer home.
Would she hide them inside Thornwood?
After growing up there, Cress would know the house and its grounds intimately.
It was a place to start. If he found no trace, he’d move outward from there.
Leaving the map, Gideon went to the supply room. Grabbing an empty rucksack, he started filling it with sticks of dynamite. He couldn’t disable whatever spells preserved the sister queens, but with any luck, the spells would have weakened considerably in Cressida’s absence. A few sticks of dynamite might be enough to blow them to bits.
He had no idea if it would work, but he had to try.
And if he couldn’t destroy them, he would hide them somewhere else.
Somewhere Cress would never find them.
Gideon looked to the windows, where the moonlight poured in. The sea was a black expanse in the distance.
He hoped Rune was on it. Hoped she was safely away.
Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Gideon grabbed the lamp and Rune’s knife—the only remnant of her he had left—and turned for the door.
A silhouette stood in the frame, blocking his way.
Gideon frowned into the shadows, trying to make out who it was. “I trusted you.”
The voice sparked like a fuse.
Laila.
“You said you knew her exact plans. That it would be tonight. That she would use the Arcadia!”
She stepped into the room and the orange glow of his lamp. Gideon stepped back. “Laila, I—”
“The hounds couldn’t pick up a scent,” she said, staring at him like he was a stranger. “We checked every cargo hold on every ship in the harbor. There’s no trace of any witch.”
Here, at the end, this was all he was sorry for: the look on Laila’s face. She was his friend, and he’d betrayed her trust.
“Why would you lie to me?”
Gideon remembered Rune’s knife pressed to his throat. Remembered the tears in her eyes as she fled.
Because I love her.
Gideon dropped his sack full of dynamite to the floor. “Laila, listen—”
“No, Gideon. I will never listen to you again.” “If you let me explain…”
Several soldiers filed in behind her. With them came Harrow. Even from the shadows, he felt the fury of her gaze burning him up.
No explanation would convince them, and he knew it.
Harrow stepped into the light. “All Rune has ever done is deceive you, Comrade. Witches are all the same. You should have learned this lesson by now.”
Looking at Harrow was like looking into a mirror. They both had been hurt by the witches they loved, and had let those wounds poison them.
“Aren’t you tired of this bitterness?” he asked her. “Aren’t you sick of the hate? Those are easy, Harrow. What’s difficult is refusing to harden your heart despite having every reason to. Despite knowing the odds are against you.”
Rune had taught him that.
“Live in the darkness too long, and eventually you won’t recognize the light,” he told her. “You’ll become like the monsters you hate.”
She scowled, her face shuttering. Closing herself off. “You’re lost, Comrade.”
No. Gideon was the opposite of lost.
“You and I are free, Harrow. We’ve always been free. They can torture us, lock us up, leave us to rot—but our souls are still our own. We decide what we become. Not them.”
Harrow’s gaze darkened. As if she couldn’t stand to be in Gideon’s presence a second longer, she turned and strode from the room.
When she was gone, Laila said, “You know where Rune is, don’t you?” Gideon said nothing.
“You can still turn this around. You can tell me, and we can stop her.
Before Noah finds out.”
He studied his friend, whose eyes pleaded with him. Laila had a good, brave heart. He loved her like a sister. He didn’t want to force her hand.
But neither would he give Rune up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly, I am.”
He watched her face fall. Watched her glance away and call for the soldiers behind her. Seconds later, half a dozen officers surrounded Gideon. When Laila gave the command, the men looked at each other, clearly reluctant to arrest their captain.
“Do as she says,” Gideon told them. “I intentionally deceived you to help a fugitive escape. Take me into custody.”
So they locked his wrists in irons and marched him to the palace.
 |
PAIN EXPLODED IN GIDEON’S cheek. It was the third time Noah hit him across the face with the butt of a revolver, and his ears rang from the pain of the blows.
In his black uniform, the Good Commander towered over Gideon, who knelt on the floor before him.
“You deceived your soldiers to aid the Crimson Moth’s escape. I therefore convict you of sympathizing with witches.” Noah set the revolver on his desk. “As a revolution hero, it’s only fitting to execute you publicly. I’ll make an official announcement tomorrow. We’ll use you as an example.”
He stared down at Gideon, the derision plain on his face.
There had always been friction between them. Gideon guessed it was because of his close relationship with Nicolas Creed, Noah’s father. Gideon had always suspected Noah was jealous, but the suspicion had never been confirmed.
“I almost feel bad for you. Abandoned to your death by the girl you love.”
Noah nodded for two soldiers to take him to a cell. As they shoved Gideon forward, the Commander’s voice echoed behind him: “She was
always out of your league, Sharpe.”
“I’m well aware,” he whispered as they led him away.
