GIDEON
“WHO SHOULD I HURT to make you comply?”
Cressida faced Gideon, her willowy frame mere inches from his.
Beyond her, Ava stood at the sink, smoothing her hair.
“One of the staff?” said Cressida when Gideon didn’t answer. “One of their children?” She trailed off, thinking about it. Her hands slid down his chest, dropping to his trouser buttons. “Or perhaps Rune Winters?”
She must have misunderstood the expression that crossed his face, because she continued: “The things I’ve done to you can easily be inflicted upon the Crimson Moth. In fact”—she smiled, undoing the first button of his trousers—“you could watch while I do it. Would you like that?”
Every muscle in his body tightened.
“I think it would be very entertaining…”
She started undoing the second button when a knock interrupted them. Glancing over her shoulder, Cressida narrowed her eyes on the door.
Ava turned away from the sink to go answer it. “Tell them to go away,” Cressida said.
No sooner had she issued the command than the door swung open.
Ava halted as Prince Soren stepped in, looking regal in a navy blue tailcoat, if not a little flustered. Cressida spun to face the intruder, but at the sight of the prince, she reined in her anger.
“My lord.” Her voice was cheerfully restrained. “I’m sorry for the trouble we’ve brought upon Larkmont. As soon as—”
Soren waved his hand, cutting her off. His gaze fixed on Gideon. “Is this the brute who attacked Miss Winters?”
“Indeed,” said Cressida. “I’ve bound him with a spell. He can’t harm you unless I remove it.”
Soren strode forward, stopping directly in front of Gideon. The prince squared his shoulders and drew both hands behind his back, reminding Gideon he was an admiral, not just a prince. They were the same age, but the sea air had weathered Soren’s face, making him appear older.
Gideon was slightly taller, though, forcing Soren to look up at him even though Gideon sensed he very much wanted to look down on him.
Staring at the prince, all Gideon could think of were the man’s hands all over Rune. Of Rune drunk and crying at the sink.
Gideon’s thoughts spiraled to places he’d rather not go.
What does she let him do to her when they aren’t in public?
He went hot all over. The beat of his pulse pounded like a drum in the base of his throat.
Soren’s lip curled, as if he were inspecting a dead rat. “How dare you touch her.”
Gideon knew better than to open his mouth. But he couldn’t help himself.
“At least she likes it when I touch her.” Soren’s face reddened.
Crack!
The prince’s knuckles collided with his jaw and the force of the punch slammed his head to the side. Blood welled in Gideon’s mouth. He spat it onto Soren’s crisp white cravat.
The man seemed about to throw a second punch—or perhaps wrap his hands around Gideon’s neck and choke the life out of him—when Cressida stepped in.
“Let me deal with him, Your Highness. There’s no need for you to get your hands dirty.”
Seeming to remember himself—he was a prince, he didn’t stoop to the level of rats—Soren stepped back, untying his now bloody cravat and dropping it to the floor.
“I’m afraid your plans for him must wait.” He turned to Cressida, his face still red. “My lawyers have drafted the contract. All it needs is our
signatures.”
Cressida’s brows lifted in surprise.
“That’s wonderful.” There was no edge in her voice this time. “But I really should attend to our enemy.” She glanced at Gideon. “Why don’t we sign over breakfast tomorrow?”
“Rune is impatient to be married,” said Soren. “And I know you’re impatient to have your throne back. Which is why I must insist we do this now. I’d rather not risk any more”—he glanced at Gideon—“interruptions.”
Gideon watched a nerve in Cressida’s cheek jump. She clearly loathed the idea of leaving Gideon, but she was outranked. And this was what she wanted: an alliance to help her wage war against the New Republic.
Sliding her casting knife into the folds of her cloak, Cressida glanced at Ava. “Bring him to my chambers.”
At those words, a chill crept over Gideon’s skin. “We’ll finish this there. I won’t be long.”
Gideon watched the witch queen follow Soren out of the room, shutting the door behind her. When they were gone, Ava pushed away from the wall.
“Come on, then.”
Gideon looked at his pistol, still resting on the sink. There was one bullet left in the chamber—he’d used up the others earlier, getting past Soren’s security. To move him to Cressida’s chambers, Ava would have to remove his magic bindings.
He needed five seconds at most.
The witch slashed her skin with her casting knife, then touched her fingertips to the blood before smearing a bright red symbol across his chest. Her fingers looped and slashed, dragging across his skin. The stench of her magic filled the air, coppery and cloying.
Another spell?
Ava stepped away, smiling. Turning, she walked to the sink and cupped her hands under the water, then let it drip over the symbols Cressida had drawn onto the floor. She ran her shoe across the marks, looking almost bored as she severed the witch queen’s spell.
Gideon’s muscles tightened as the tendrils of Cressida’s magic loosened their grip on him. Releasing his shoulders and arms first, then his legs and
feet.
When the spell vanished entirely, Gideon lunged for the pistol. “Stop!”
It was like running into an invisible wall. His entire body jerked to a halt on Ava’s command, his spine going sword-straight.
“Turn toward the door.”
In horror, Gideon found himself doing exactly as she ordered. The spellmark on his chest …
It binds me to her words.
Whatever she commanded, he’d be forced to do. “Drop to your hands and knees, witch hunter.”
Against his will, Gideon lowered himself to the floor. Before him, shattered glass glittered across the tiles.
“Now crawl.”
Gideon picked his way through the glass, teeth clenching as shards sliced into his hands and embedded in his knees, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
He’d been a fool to think he could save himself.
Halfway to the door, he heard footsteps in the hall. He glanced up, watching the handle turn.
Is Cressida back already?
A dread as cold and dark as the sea swept through him.
But when the door swung open, it was an altogether different witch who stepped through.
Her golden dress caught the light, her strawberry blonde hair tumbled in waves down her shoulders, and her gray eyes simmered like a storm.
Rune.
