GIDEON
GIDEON STOOD AT THE second-floor window overlooking the gates of the Wentholts’ cottage. His clothes were still damp from the waterfall, and his hair dripped water down his neck as he watched Rune ride Lady out through the gates.
In that moment, he knew, somehow, that she was not coming back.
Gideon watched until she disappeared into the surrounding woods and lingered long after, his temple pressed to the cool glass, wondering if he’d made the right choice.
“You didn’t go with her?”
Rousing himself, Gideon turned to find Harrow behind him, leaning up against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.
Gideon was so used to seeing Harrow with her dark brown hair pulled up in a topknot, he almost didn’t recognize her. She’d let her hair down. Long and straight, it shimmered in the sunlight. Softening her hard edges.
“The girl I love would never respect a man who’d willingly abandon innocents to be slaughtered.”
“Perhaps she’s no longer that girl.”
She is.
Beneath the hurt and fear and anger, she was the same Rune he’d fallen in love with. He believed that. She’d simply forgotten herself—the way he had once forgotten himself.
“If I went with her, she would come to despise me for my cowardice,” he said. And even if she didn’t, he would despise himself. Gideon shook his head. “That’s not the life I want with her. Nor is it the life she wants, deep
down.” He looked to the window. “She’s just too scared to remember that right now.”
Harrow stepped up beside him, staring out the same window. “You should follow her at least, to make sure she’s okay.”
He glanced at his friend, eyebrow cocked. “Since when are you worried about Rune’s safety?”
Harrow ignored him. “Westport Station is swarming with Cressida’s soldiers and spies. There are witch-hunting hounds with them, for sniffing out the Crimson Moth.”
His stomach dropped. “What?”
“Bess was there early this morning, buying Rune’s ticket.”
How did Harrow learn that? She’d been here all of two hours.
“At the very least, you should make sure your girl gets safely on her train.” Harrow turned her golden eyes on his. “Don’t you think?”
“Does that witch of yours have something to do with this change of heart?”
“Juniper is not my witch,” she snapped, eyes narrowing with warning.
But it was too late. Gideon had glimpsed the crack in her armor. She might not have forgiven Juniper—or him, for that matter—but something was shifting in Harrow.
They considered each other.
“Does this mean you’re with me?” he asked her.
She scoffed, turning to walk away. “I’m with whoever pays the most for my services.”
“Funny how you never charged me before,” he called after her. Which was true. Any information Harrow had given to Gideon, she’d given freely. No strings attached.
“There’s always more than one kind of payment,” she shot back, her hair swishing across her shoulders.
Gideon didn’t know how to answer. In the years she’d worked with him, digging up clues to help him catch and purge witches, had he paid Harrow in some other way?
Perhaps purging witches was the payment.
But if so, what kind of currency was Harrow trading in now?
 |
WESTPORT STATION WAS IN chaos when Gideon arrived.
He wore a brown traveling suit loaned to him by Bart, who’d argued it would help Gideon blend in.
No one would be looking for Captain Gideon Sharpe in a suit.
With Ash’s pistol tucked into his belt and an extra box of bullets in his pocket, Gideon took up position against the station’s brick wall, making sure the brim of Bart’s wool cap kept his face in shadow as he scanned the chaotic crowd pushing toward the only train on the tracks.
He’d quickly learned the source of the chaos: this station was shuttering at sundown, by order of the queen, who was hunting a rogue witch rumored to be the Crimson Moth. By closing down all nearby stations, Cressida hoped to prevent her prey from getting further afield.
The train sitting on the tracks was the last one leaving. Possibly forever, if this war tore their country apart. Which meant Rune needed to be on it if she wanted to get out tonight.
He spotted her almost immediately.
Or rather: he spotted a version of her. She’d altered her appearance, like she had on the Arcadia. Instead of strawberry blonde, Rune’s hair was the pale gold of wheat, braided down her back. And when she glanced around, scanning for danger, Gideon saw her chin was more pointed, and her eyes were blue instead of gray.
If he didn’t recognize her illusion from the ship, he might have missed her altogether.
Gideon watched her push through the crush of people desperate to get on the last train—which was nearly full—while the porters tried to keep things under control.
Once she was safely on board, Gideon would turn around and go back. With so many of Cressida’s soldiers patrolling the station—many with hunting hounds at their sides—he couldn’t afford to linger.
Finally, as the stationmaster announced last call, Rune pushed her way up to the ticket inspector. Gideon had just relaxed, readying himself to leave the moment she stepped onto the train, when a loud bark made him freeze.
He glanced over to see a dog dragging a soldier through the parting crowd, heading in Rune’s direction and attracting the attention of several other soldiers nearby.
Even if Rune got on the train, the dog would follow her in. Where she’d be trapped.
Gideon pushed away from the wall, shoving through the mass of bodies, using his shoulders and elbows to fight his way through. A few yards from where Rune stood with the ticket inspector, he stepped directly in front of the dog.
Pretending to stumble, he threw his weight toward the soldier and forcibly got himself caught in the leash.
“For Mercy’s sake,” he muttered. “Keep control of your dog, will you?”
The dog barked, trying to drag them both toward the train. But the leash was now looped around Gideon’s calf, and he planted himself firmly in place. With Gideon’s full height and breadth blocking Rune from view, the soldier no longer saw which direction the dog was heading.
“Step aside, sir, or I’ll arrest you for interference.”
Gideon’s eyebrows shot toward his forehead. “Interference? You’re standing in my way.”
Behind them, the train whistled, warning everyone away from the tracks. Gideon quickly glanced over his shoulder to see Rune disappear inside while the porter pulled the steps away from the train.
“Sir, this is your last warning.”
The dog snarled and yanked. The leash tightened around Gideon’s leg. “Step aside, or I’m bringing you in.”
So long as the train was in the station, soldiers could still board it.
Gideon refused to let that happen.
“How am I to step aside,” he said, staring down the young man in uniform, “when your dog has ensnared me in its leash?”
Two more soldiers arrived. “What’s the problem here?”
Wanting to keep their attention on him, Gideon said, “The problem”— he shoved the soldier in front of him hard enough to cause a scene—“is boys who can’t control their mutts.”
“Hey now.”
Gideon saw a soldier reach for a set of handcuffs. “That’s assault of an officer.”
Gideon was about to turn and challenge him, too, when a third voice joined in.
“Captain Sharpe?”
Gideon looked at the new arrival to find a woman with silver casting scars on her cheeks. Her black hair was loose around her shoulders, and her eyes were catlike as they pierced him.
Gideon didn’t recognize the witch, but she clearly recognized him.
He glanced at the train, which was groaning as it slowly pulled away from the tracks.
At least Rune is safe.
“Leave him to me,” the witch said, lifting her casting knife to Gideon’s throat, ensuring he didn’t try anything.
She seemed to outrank them, because the soldier released the tangled leash, loosening its viselike hold on Gideon’s leg. The hunting hound bolted after the train.
But it was too late. The train was leaving the station. If they wanted to catch her, they’d have to beat it to the next one—an impossibility on foot or horseback.
As the soldiers chased the dog, the witch found the gun tucked into Gideon’s belt. She slid it out, pressing the barrel between his shoulder blades.
“My orders are to bring you in, dead or alive.” She prodded him toward the tracks. “Now move.”
