Heartless Hunter (Crimson Moth, #1) (8)

“You worry me,” he whispered, close to her ear.

His voice was careful, soft. As if Rune were made of glass and he needed to handle her with caution.

“You spend your days looking out for everyone else, but who’s looking out for you?”

“You’re looking out for me,” she whispered to his double-breasted lapel. “Not to mention Verity. And Lady.”

“Lady is a horse,” he countered. “And Verity throws herself into as much danger as you do.”

He seemed about to say something else when the bells signaling the end of intermission chimed throughout the foyer. Rune stepped away from his familiar, steady frame and glanced out of the alcove. A column blocked most of her view, but she could see Laila’s black hair, braided into that fashionable crown, heading toward the doors of the auditorium. The drone of conversation was already dwindling. In a few minutes, the foyer would be empty and silent.

And Rune had yet to find Gideon.

She refused to let tonight be a waste. She needed Seraphine’s whereabouts.

“Is your brother here?” she whispered, scanning the emptying foyer like a hawk searching for the plumpest field mouse.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him all week. Why?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Alex knew the thoughts in her head.

“Rune, no. My brother is a danger.” He gently gripped her bare shoulder, turning her to face him. “To you especially.”

“Your brother is a danger to every witch in the New Republic.” She tugged herself free of his hand. “Seraphine especially. If I don’t find out where he’s put her …”

Didn’t he understand? She didn’t know where Seraphine was or when they planned to transfer her. For all Rune knew, she might already be en route to the palace prison. And if she was …

I’ll never get her out. They’ll kill her like they killed Nan.

Once the Blood Guard brought a witch inside the prison, Rune couldn’t save them. The prison was impregnable.

And if I don’t save her, I’ll fail to do the last thing Nan asked of me.

It was unacceptable.

“Rune.”

“What other choice do I have?” she said, coming back to him. “You won’t do it.”

As loyal as Alex was to the Crimson Moth, to her, he drew a line at his brother. Under no circumstances would he ever manipulate Gideon the way he, Rune, and Verity manipulated the rest of their peers. Rune had asked him once, and watched his bright gold eyes dim. His uncharacteristically sharp answer—Absolutely not.—stopped her from asking again.

Rune knew Alex had helped kill the youngest Sister Queen, Cressida Roseblood. He never spoke of it, except to say that he had done it for Gideon. At which point, he turned the conversation to other things. Rune didn’t know what that meant. Had Gideon asked him to kill Cressida? Had he forced him to? Or had Alex done it to save his brother, somehow? The latter, if true, struck Rune as odd, since Gideon was the violent one; a natural predator. Unlike his brother, Alex was warm and kind and scorned the killing of witches. Not to mention, he was devoutly loyal to Rune.

The problem was, he was equally loyal to Gideon. Sometimes Rune suspected he was more loyal. But for some strange reason, it didn’t make her trust him less. She knew, in her heart, Alex would never betray her.

He would just never betray his brother, either.

Which often put them at odds with each other.

Once, Rune might have understood Alex’s devotion to his brother. Years before the revolution, Rune had wanted to earn Gideon’s approval. Alex was her closest friend back then, and though Rune hadn’t met Gideon yet, she’d heard stories about him. Biased stories, she now knew, told by Alex. Who worshiped his older brother.

Young, naive Rune had believed the stories. And the more of them Alex told her, the more she felt like she knew Gideon. She soon developed what some might call a crush. It was important, therefore, that she make a good impression the first time they met.

In retrospect, the whole thing was childish and absurd.

When they did meet, Rune was thirteen and Gideon fifteen. He not only refused to shake her hand, he outright insulted the outfit she was wearing: a dress she’d selected for the sole aim of impressing him. When Alex asked Gideon to apologize, he refused.

Alex’s stories were wrong. So wrong. She learned that day it was the one thing he couldn’t be relied upon for: accurate judgment of his brother.

Gideon was a beast of a boy, and Rune never cared to win his esteem again.

“I’ll cast an illusion,” she told Alex now, her fingers tapping the corked vial of blood concealed in her dress. Blood she’d collected from last month’s bleeding. “He won’t know it’s me.”

Except Rune only had one full vial left after this one. Once it was gone, she would have nothing until the start of her next monthly cycle. And she needed as much blood as possible to save Seraphine.

Alex shook his head. “He’ll smell the magic on you. Gideon’s not one of your moony-eyed suitors, Rune. He’s—”

“So I’ll invite him to my after-party.” Where she would keep his cup full of enchanted wine and probe him with innocent questions that would lead to the answers she needed.

“He hates parties.”

Rune threw up her hands and hissed: “Then I’ll think of something else!”