Gideon
Rune felt like someone had dropped an anchor inside of her, pulling her down to the bottom of the sea.
She wanted to believe him.
She’d be a fool to believe him.
And that was exactly the point, wasn’t it? No matter what he said or did, Rune couldn’t trust him. He thought her innocent—that’s why he was apologizing. That’s why he fancied himself in love with her. But if he knew the truth …
He’d arrest me right now and hand me over to be purged.
The thought steadied her. Gideon was her enemy.
And I’m marrying his brother.
Rune worried her lip in her teeth. She wasn’t only marrying Alex; she was leaving with him. At the very least, Gideon deserved to hear that from her.
She needed to tell him. And say goodbye.
Glancing down to the box, Rune freed the ribbon, lifted the lid, and pushed back the brown paper inside.
A bouquet of silk buttercups sprung from the packaging.
Her pulse hummed in her throat as she reached to pick them up. The flowers were simpler than the rose he’d given her at her after-party, but ten times as plentiful. Rune held the bouquet in her hands, stroking the tiny petals made of buttery silk, tracing the fine stitches.
He made these.
Rune had told Gideon that buttercups were her favorite flower, and instead of picking some, he sewed them for her. Had he stayed up all night doing so?
The humming in her throat turned to pounding.
Why did it have to be Gideon who knew how to speak to her soul?
It made her eyes prickle.
I can’t accept these.
She needed to give the flowers back.
Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll return them before I meet Verity. Because after tomorrow, who knew when she’d see him again?
Before rescuing Seraphine, she would put Gideon behind her for good, and with him, her role as Rune Winters. She’d play the shallow socialite no longer. The path she’d started on when Nan died was ending; the days of risking her life as the Crimson Moth were almost over.
Rune was headed down a new path. One that led to Caelis, and to Alex. To safety and joy. Rune was going to live the life Nan wanted for her. The one that was stolen from them both the day the Blood Guard dragged her away.
So, she laid the bouquet of silk flowers back in the box and closed the lid.
Tomorrow she would say goodbye to Gideon Sharpe—forever.
FIFTY-FOUR
RUNE
ARCANA: （n.） the deadliest category of spell.
Arcana Spells require blood taken from someone against their will in a quantity that often results in the donor’s death. Arcanas are not only deadly for the donor, they are corrosive to the soul of the witch who uses them. For this reason, they were outlawed by Queen Raine the Innocent. Types of Arcana Spells range from complex illusions sustained over long periods to forbidden acts like raising the dead back to life.
—From Rules of Magic by Queen Callidora the Valiant
THE NEXT MORNING, RUNE could barely open her eyes as the sun beamed in through her window.
Get up, she thought, feeling more tired than she had in years. Like her limbs had turned to sand. Like her eyelids were made of stone.
Was this how Verity felt all the time?
You need to save Seraphine today.
And from the position of the sun, it was nearly midday.
Remembering the flowers Gideon made for her, and how she’d resolved to return them, Rune groaned and dragged herself from her bed. She dictated a quick telegram message to Lizbeth, asking Gideon if they could meet this afternoon.
His answer arrived an hour later, short and to the point.
MISS RUNE WINTERS
WINTERSEA HOUSE
MEET ME AT THE STUDIO. 2 O’CLOCK.
GIDEON
Two o’clock gave Rune plenty of time before convening with Verity an hour later.
After quickly putting food in her stomach, Rune went to collect what she needed for tonight: the stolen uniform, Gideon’s access coin, and her last vial of blood. During her meeting with Alex and Verity, she’d put the coin and the vial inside the pocket of the uniform, and left the uniform folded on her casting table.
But when she went to retrieve them, only the uniform was there.
The pockets were empty.
Rune dropped to her knees, looking under the desk to see if the items had fallen onto the carpet. But there was no sign of either the coin or the vial. She checked the uniform’s pockets again. Empty. She checked every inch of the casting room, then her bedroom. Nothing.
Rune ground her palms into her eyes, trying to think. Was she so tired, she misremembered where she’d put them?
Without that vial, and the start of her monthly cycle nowhere in sight, Rune had no blood to cast with. And without an access coin, she’d never get past the gates of the prison.