Torn.
Her stomach tightened.
With her wrist so exposed to the elements, the rain smudged out her spellmarks completely, and the illusion sloughed off. Her headache vanished with it. Before she could fix the marks, a sudden wind rose, growling like an angry wolf.
SLAM!
The door to Seraphine’s house banged shut.
Rune dropped the woolen dress and spun to face the door, her breath catching in her throat. Closed, the door gave her a full view of the bloody X smeared from corner to corner across its wooden surface.
The mark of the Blood Guard.
Seraphine wasn’t in the stable calming her horse. Soldiers had found her, stripped her, and taken her with them.
Nan’s oldest friend was in the hands of the Blood Guard—the most dangerous place for a witch to be.
TWO
RUNE
RUNE RACED NAN’S TIRED horse, Lady, through the fog-laden streets of the capital.
Electric lamps lit the way, their white light buzzing as they illuminated the closed shops flanking her on both sides. Lady’s galloping hoofbeats on the cobbles contrasted sharply with the surrounding quiet.
Two years had passed since these streets ran with the blood of witches and the Republic of the Red Peace was born. Rune had spent those two years searching for Seraphine Oakes, determined to fulfill her grandmother’s last request.
The regime had executed all of Nan’s witch friends, seizing their holdings and inheritances. The sole friend who’d escaped the purge was Seraphine, but only because she’d been sent by the former queen into exile nearly two decades ago and no one had seen her since.
Now, on the night Rune finally found her, witch hunters had gotten there first.
Was it a coincidence? Or was someone onto Rune? She supposed it was bound to happen. But now she would need to be especially careful. If someone within the Blood Guard suspected her, she needed to throw them off her scent.
Rune tried not to think about the bloody X on the door or the torn clothes left in the mud. She knew exactly what had happened to Seraphine. She’d seen it firsthand the day the Blood Guard came for Nan.
It had been Rune who invited them.
Immediately after the uprising, soldiers rounded up every known witch and purged them. The New Republic’s army had taken control of the harbors, ensuring no one could leave the island.
They seized Nan’s ships, and it was only a matter of time before witch hunters came to Wintersea House to arrest her.
But Nan had a plan. Her old business partner had a fishing boat and was smuggling witches off-island. The boat left from his private cove at midnight, and there was room for both Nan and Rune aboard the small craft if they could get there in time.
Back then, Rune was only sixteen and hadn’t yet come into her magic. It had never crossed her mind that she would, since her birth parents hadn’t been witches, and only witches begat witches—though magic sometimes skipped children, and even generations, making it hard to predict. Rune’s parents had drowned in a terrible shipwreck when she was a baby, leaving her an orphan with no family to take her in. So Nan had adopted her.
But it didn’t matter that Rune wasn’t a witch or related to Nan by blood. Under the Red Peace, it mattered that Rune hadn’t turned Nan in. When the Blood Guard came for her grandmother, they would declare Rune a sympathizer and execute her alongside Kestrel Winters for the crime of not turning in a witch.
This was their only chance to escape.
Rune was hurriedly packing her things when a message arrived from Alexander Sharpe, her oldest friend.
Someone’s betrayed you, it read. The Blood Guard know your plans. Soldiers seized the fisherman earlier this evening and are waiting for you in his cove.
But the news in Alex’s message got even worse: The roads leading out of town are closed off and they’re arresting anyone who doesn’t have permission to be traveling.
There was nowhere to run; they were trapped in Wintersea House. They could hide, but for how long?
You need to report her, Rune. Before it’s too late.
The message was clear: if Rune didn’t turn Nan in immediately, they were both going to be executed.
Refusing would earn Rune a brutal death. But Nan was her grandmother. The person Rune loved most in the world. Turning her in would be like carving out her own heart and handing it over. So she brought the note to Nan, trusting her grandmother would know how to get them out of this.
She remembered the look of steel in Nan’s eyes as she read the note. But instead of coming up with a new escape plan, she said: He’s right. You must report me immediately.
Horrified, Rune shook her head. No. There must be some other way.