Rune drew the knife at her thigh. Its sheath had kept it semi-dry, and while some water had leaked in, the blade was still coated in Gideon’s blood. The blood was diluted, but fresh.
She knew it was dangerous—she hadn’t asked his permission to use it, nor would she get permission if she had. But she hadn’t stabbed him intending to use his blood. So maybe it would be okay.
But what if it isn’t?
Laila fired her pistol. Rune winced as the shots cracked through the air and the bullets lodged in the rickety door. A few more shots, and those bullets would break through.
If Rune didn’t cast the spell now, she was done for.
Hoping she wasn’t about to corrupt herself, Rune swiped her fingers through Gideon’s blood, lifted them to the door, and drew the mark for Deadbolt.
Salt prickled her tongue. That roaring sea swelled inside her. But this time, Rune wasn’t standing in the waves, fighting to stay upright while the magic pummeled her back. This time, the waves were beneath her, and she was sailing swiftly through them on a craft of her own making.
Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?
Rune immediately understood why witches used fresh blood; it was so easy.
Beneath the roar of magic, something clicked into place.
This time, it was Gideon who threw himself against the door. She heard him grunt; felt the force of his weight. But the door barely trembled. Deadbolt kept it locked, trapping both Blood Guard soldiers inside.
Rune stumbled back, smiling in triumph.
More shots rang out. Bullets splintered the wood.
Her smile died on her lips.
Rune turned and bolted.
She slid the whistle from her pocket as she ran. Pressing it to her lips, she blew one hard, fierce note. Lady barreled out of the copse and up the dirt road, heading straight for her.
Another shot rang out, and this one whizzed past Rune’s head, rustling her hair. She glanced over her shoulder to find Laila aiming the barrel of her pistol through the broken window.
Lady arrived, slowing a little, and Rune launched herself at the horse’s back, struggling to mount as she trotted beneath her. Finally in the saddle, Rune’s boots in the stirrups, she dug in her heels, letting Lady know this was one of those urgent situations she frequently got them into that Lady needed to now get them out of.
But it was a few seconds before the massive horse could pick up enough speed to carry them out of range.
A third shot rang out. This time, Rune felt the sharp sting of a bullet as it sliced her forearm. Warm, sticky blood seeped out.
She couldn’t afford to stop and check how bad it was. Right now, she needed to steer Lady away from Laila and her stinging bullets.
After that …
Rune stared at the lights of Seldom Harbor on the horizon, trying to think.
Two Blood Guard soldiers had seen the Crimson Moth at the old mine tonight. Rune Winters, therefore, needed to be seen somewhere else. Preferably far away.
She needed to get to the Creeds’ masked ball, and fast.
TWENTY-FOUR
GIDEON
GIDEON WAS HAULING HIMSELF up the last three rungs of the ladder when he heard Laila’s pistol go off. He glanced up to find his hunting partner desperately pulling on the door, her black ponytail swishing with every yank.
“Damn it!” Laila snarled. “She locked us in!”
Gideon pulled himself into the room. His wounded leg protested every step as Laila moved aside to let him try.
“Gideon, you’re bleeding …”
The Moth’s knife had missed the major arteries and tendons, but his thigh still hurt like hell. What annoyed him most, though, was not getting a look at her face before she plunged the blade in.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said, taking the tarnished metal latch in both hands and yanking on it.
The door didn’t budge.
I had her, he thought, throwing himself at the door. She was in my hands.
But why hadn’t she gone for his neck with that knife? The Moth was a coldhearted killer. Gideon had seen the corpses she’d abandoned in the city streets, ruthlessly bled dry.
So why aim for his leg?
Laila moved to the window. The pane was smashed. Lifting her gun, Laila aimed through the broken glass and fired three times.
“I think that last shot might have hit her,” she said, peering out.
The idea of Laila hitting her mark made Gideon stiffen.
If it was Rune …
Gideon scowled. Who cared if it was Rune? Rune or not, the Crimson Moth wouldn’t think twice if their situation was reversed—the proof was in his throbbing, bleeding leg.
And if it was Rune, he told himself, she’s a traitor to the Republic.