RUNE
RUNE DROPPED THE CANDLEHOLDER and ran. The soldier cursed, then lunged for her. His hands closed around her ankle. Rune fell. The floor rose to meet her elbows, spiking pain up her arms.
They grappled in the dark: him trying to pin her down, Rune struggling to escape him.
She kicked him in the shin. He cursed and let go. The moment he lost his advantage, Rune sat down on top of him, pressing her stolen knife to his throat. Panting with the effort.
He fell immediately still beneath her.
The only way to escape now was to kill him. Before he called for help.
I’ve killed a man already tonight. What’s one more?
But she couldn’t bring herself to press down, to slit his throat.
“Well?” he growled. “What are you waiting for? Kill me and be done with it.”
Rune froze.
That voice.
It was honey to her soul.
“Gideon?” she whispered, nearly bursting into tears at the possibility. He went rigid beneath her.
He’s alive.
“It’s me,” she said. “Rune.”
She withdrew the knife from his throat. The moment she did, he grabbed it and flipped her onto her back. Rune winced as her wounds tore, pain flooding her anew.
“Prove it.” He pressed the knife’s cold tip to her heart, ready to plunge it in. “Prove you’re her and not some other witch wearing her voice.”
His body was tight as a coiled spring.
But this was Gideon. Rune wasn’t afraid of him. Just the opposite: she wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go.
It seemed impossible that she had found him. That he was even alive.
What is he doing at Wintersea?
“The last time you saw me,” she whispered, “I was stealing apples from your cupboard. You asked me if I’d miss you. I said no.”
His breath shuddered.
“Liar.” He dropped the blade and lowered his forehead to hers. “You said you’d miss me the way a fox misses a wolf.”
“Which is not at all.”
She could almost feel him smile in the darkness. He slid his palms over her jaw, taking her face in his hands. His touch was a balm. Rune wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him close, but the wounds on her back had reopened, and the longer he pressed her into the floor, the worse it hurt.
The pain made her stiffen.
Gideon felt it and pulled immediately away, misunderstanding her.
She wanted to explain—except that would require telling him what Cressida did. Gideon would want her to show him the scars. And that Rune would never do.
She wanted him to remember her as she had been: beautiful, not … flayed.
Not hideous.
The weight of Gideon lifted as he got to his feet and relit a candle. In the flickering light, Rune remembered her disheveled state and what Soren had done. She sat up and scuttled toward the wall. But it was too late. Gideon saw her torn bodice and the ripped shift beneath.
His eyes blackened. “Who did this to you?”
Rune glanced at the floor, feeling ashamed without knowing why. She gripped the torn fabric, holding it closed over her chest.
Gideon dropped to his knees in front of her, the heat of his rage rolling off him. But his voice was less of a growl now. He was controlling it, she realized. For her sake. “Rune. Give me his name.”
Tears burned in her eyes as she remembered the moment with Soren in the hall. She wanted to tell him, but her throat wouldn’t work. The words wouldn’t come.
“It doesn’t matter,” she managed. “I killed him. I took your advice and didn’t hesitate.”
Gideon studied her in the candlelight, eyes ferocious, brow furrowed. He lifted his hand to tuck her messy hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, then dropped. As if he wasn’t sure if she wanted to be touched. “I suppose that saves me the effort of killing him myself.”
“I thought they killed you,” she whispered as they stared at each other. Her fingers itched to trace the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the stern ridge of his brow. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Her voice broke.
He softened. “I thought you were leaving.” “I did leave.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
A sound from down the hall made them both jump. Gideon looked to the casting room’s open wall.
“There are dozens of Blood Guard soldiers in this house.” He rose to his feet. “They’ve been ordered to shoot you on sight. You have to hide…”
He started to cross the room when footsteps echoed from the bedroom beyond. Before Gideon could close the wall, sealing them in, Noah stepped through the opening, with several soldiers flanking him.
They must have heard the noise from Rune and Gideon’s scuffle. Laila stumbled in behind them.
At the sight of Rune, they all drew their guns. Gideon stepped in front of her.
“Take Miss Winters out back and shoot her,” Noah told his sister. “I’ll deal with the witch’s whore.”
Something red-hot burst to life in Rune. How dare he call Gideon that.
She grabbed her stolen knife from where Gideon had dropped it and stepped out from behind him, staring down the barrel of Noah’s gun. “Gideon has more valor in his thumbnail than you have in your entire being, you piece of—”
“Rune.” Gideon’s voice was a warning.
But what could Noah do? Shoot her? Laila was going to do that anyway. “Drop the knife,” said Laila, her pistol raised as she stepped closer.
Rune raised both hands, as if to surrender. But instead of dropping the knife, she threw it.
Straight at Noah.
He ducked, but not fast enough. The blade sank into his shoulder and he screamed.
His gun went off. The shot went wide. Rune lunged for him, feeling feral. Like all of her rage and grief and fear suddenly had a target, and if she could just hit it, maybe she would feel better. Like herself again.
Laila grabbed her around the waist before she could, while the other soldiers descended on Gideon.
Rune scratched and thrashed like a wildcat. But it was no use. Laila called for backup, and suddenly they were throwing her to the ground and pinning her there. Laila pressed one knee to her flayed back.
Pain exploded through Rune. She fell still.
They bound her wrists and hauled her to her feet. “No,” said Gideon. “No!”
As they dragged her from the room, Rune glanced back to see soldiers restraining him. A wild expression blazed in his eyes as his muscles bunched, struggling against four captors.
“Laila, don’t!”
Laila paused. “She put Cressida on the throne, Gideon. Cressida, who’s executing people as we speak.” She glanced back. “That monster killed my father.”
Rune remembered it. The way Cressida so casually put a bullet in Nicolas Creed’s head. The way he collapsed to the stones, utterly silent and still.
“Like your father killed Kestrel Winters?”
Laila straightened.
“Rune had to watch her grandmother die,” said Gideon. “Just as you had to watch your father die.”
Laila’s nostrils flared. But she said nothing more. Only tightened her grip on Rune’s arm and continued walking, leading them out of Rune’s bedroom and into the hall, forcing Rune downstairs, out the back door, and into the chilly night.
“Leave us,” Laila told the other soldiers. “I’ll take it from here.” Alone, she marched Rune into the gardens.
“On your knees.”
Rune did as she said. The earth was hard and cold beneath her, and the sky was bright with stars overhead.
With her hands bound in front of her, Rune breathed in the scent of Nan’s roses.
This is a good place to die.
The Wintersea gardens were better than a platform surrounded by a bloodthirsty mob. Perhaps they would bury her here, among the roses.
Rune heard a soft click as Laila cocked her gun.
At least I got to see Gideon, she thought, remembering his calloused hand against her cheek. One last time.
She closed her eyes, breathed in deep, and waited for the shot to come.
