Finally, he entered, shutting the door behind him.
Rune backed up until her shoulders hit the wall, feeling like this was it, the end of everything—their friendship, her life. She sat down on the tiles, letting more tears fall.
“What is this really about?”
His attention snagged on her dress in a heap on the floor, then the underwear in the sink. The black stain still spreading across the fabric.
Rune saw the realization sink in.
His face fell. “Oh, Rune. No …”
He stood staring at the clothes, his hands curling into fists.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Stay here,” he said. “Don’t leave this room.”
Without another word, he opened the door and stepped out, locking her in.
He’ll report me now, she thought, lying down on the tiles, pulling her legs into her chest. She closed her eyes against the ache in her abdomen, weeping quietly, waiting for the Blood Guard to arrive.
She could open the door and make a run for it, but what would be the point? And where would she go? The Blood Guard would only hunt her down.
When the door opened, it was Alex who stepped inside, locking it again behind him. A bundle of clothes was tucked under one arm, and in his hand was a mug of steaming tea.
Rune didn’t bother sitting up.
“These are Emily’s,” he said, setting the clothes on the floor beside Rune. Emily was his cook. “This is also from her.” He set down the mug. “She says it will help ease the pain.”
She frowned, not understanding.
“I’m going to prepare a hot bath for you, all right?”
Rune pushed herself to a sitting position, watching him run the water in the tub. “Where’s the Guard?”
He cocked his head at her. “What?”
She cleared her throat. “The Blood Guard. Wh-when will they arrive?”
Alex stared at her like she’d gone mad.
“Rune. Your secret is safe here.” Letting the water run, he came back to her. Getting down on his knees, he touched her cheek. “You can sleep in the spare room tonight. And tomorrow morning, we’ll figure out what to do.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “If they find out, they’ll kill you, too.”
He smiled at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They can go right ahead.”
Rune flung her arms around him, clinging tightly. He pulled her close, holding her for a long time. It was there, in his arms, that Rune realized for the first time she could trust Alexander Sharpe with her life.
FOURTEEN
GIDEON
WHEN GIDEON FINALLY ARRIVED back in Old Town, with his father’s wine-soaked jacket in hand, he’d gone over his evening at Wintersea House several times in his mind.
Had he made a mistake, moving so fast? He’d noticed the way Rune trembled beneath his touch and had a feeling she deliberately dumped that wine on him.
He’d come on too strong.
Gideon sighed, going over tonight’s events one more time. Rune had certainly been a little awkward, if not downright odd. First, there was the weirdness with the wine. Then, her dismay over the telegram invitation. And last, her questions about his work while she tried to seduce him.
It wasn’t enough to accuse her of anything. For that, he’d need some concrete evidence. Casting scars, for example. If she had them, he needed to find them.
And if she isn’t the Moth?
If she wasn’t, why invite him to her bedroom? Why flirt so shamelessly?
Unless she was actually interested in him.
Not possible, thought Gideon.
He trudged up the lamplit streets of Old Town, mulling everything over. It was foggy tonight, and as he approached the street leading to his tenement, the soft sound of footsteps echoed behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder, but the fog was thick as smoke.
As the sudden smell of roses bloomed in the damp air, a chill skated over his skin.
She’s dead, he told himself. You’re imagining it.
Still, thinking of the body they’d found beneath the bridge three nights ago, he increased his pace.
The footsteps quickened in response.
Gideon’s stomach knotted. He reached for the pistol holstered at his hip, only to remember he’d left it at home tonight. The opulent halls of Wintersea House were no place for a gun.
You’re a Blood Guard captain. Footsteps in the fog do not scare you.
But it wasn’t the footsteps so much as the smell.
Her smell.
He was coming upon a footpath that led into the back alley behind his tenement. It was difficult to find if you didn’t live in this neighborhood and already know it was there. As the footsteps started closing the gap between them, Gideon arrived at the opening to the path. He sidestepped onto it and pushed his back against the wood fence.