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!”
She turned her back on Alex and was about to walk away when his strained voice said, “I’m sick of watching you walk into danger.”
She paused, sighing as she stared out into the empty foyer. “Then don’t watch.”
Rune didn’t wait for him to respond. She stepped out of the alcove—
And straight into a Blood Guard uniform.
FIVE
RUNE
HER FOREHEAD COLLIDED HARD with a chest as solid as concrete. The force of the soldier’s stride would have barreled her over had he not grabbed her elbow, steadying them both.
“Forgive me …”
Rune looked up. Straight into eyes as black and cold as a bottomless sea.
Gideon Sharpe.
His penetrating gaze seemed to cut her open, peeling back the layers of the girl she pretended to be. Like a knife carving off the protective skin of an apple to get at the soft, vulnerable flesh beneath.
Rune’s stomach tumbled over itself. She yanked her elbow out of his grip and staggered back, her heart beating fast. The Blood Guard captain before her—responsible for sending more witches to their executions than any other soldier—straightened, his features shifting from startled surprise to something dark and unreadable.
Rune cursed herself. The Crimson Moth might have reason to cower from this monster. But Rune Winters—the silly, shallow heiress she pretended to be—wouldn’t think twice about it.
Before she could find her courage, Gideon’s gaze ran sharply down her. The force of his attention was like a rifle aimed at her heart. It made her pulse race and her breath stick in her throat. Rune was a deer, and he was a hunter. Taking her measure, noting every detail and flaw, trying to decide if she would be worth the hunt.
A second later, he frowned and looked away.
Evidently, she wasn’t.
“Citizen Winters. My apologies, I—”
Gideon’s incisive gaze flicked over her shoulder, drawn to the sudden movement of his younger brother emerging from the alcove. At the sight of Alex, his rigid form relaxed.
Gideon stepped around Rune as if she were not only disappointing but entirely forgettable. “Alex. What’s the matter? You look perturbed.”
“What? Oh.” Alex shook his head. “Nothing at all. Must be the terrible lighting.” He motioned to the gaslights glowing on the walls.
Gideon cocked his head, unconvinced.
Alex quickly changed the subject. “When did you get back?”
“This evening.”
The two brothers were inverse mirrors of each other. They had the same tall frames and handsome features: firm jaws, prominent brows. But where Alex was golden and warm as a summer day, Gideon was closed and dark as a locked, windowless room.