I’ll never succeed—not completely. Witches would always be in danger in the New Republic. So this little game of What if? was a waste of time.
When her tracing was complete, Rune lowered the last piece of paper. It was then that she remembered what Alex had said around the bonfire outside.
All that’s left to do is sell Thornwood Hall.
“You’re leaving for good,” she realized aloud, turning to face him. “Not for a month, and not just to study. You’re going away forever.”
It felt like someone had pulled the chair out from under her.
She struggled to find words. “Does Gideon know?”
“I haven’t told him.” Alex glanced away. “I doubt he’ll care. In fact, I’m sure he’ll be relieved.”
Rune frowned. That made no sense.
Alex pushed away from the desk, walking toward her. He stopped in front of the chair she stood on, his masked face tilted to hers. “I want you to come with me.”
“For a month, yes. You said that.”
“Not for a month. I want you to leave with me and never come back. I want you to be free of this, Rune. You shouldn’t have to live in constant fear for your life.” He reached for her fingers again, sliding them gently through his. “But I’ll settle for only a month. For now. If I must.”
For now. As if he were being patient with her. As if he’d wait for as long as it took Rune to come to her senses.
“In Caelis, we’ll go to the opera house every day of the week. Where they show real operas, not that propaganda you despise.”
She looked away from him, afraid he’d see how much she wanted that—to watch a real opera again. To talk about the intricacies of the characters and themes on the carriage ride home. It would never be Nan sitting next to her. But that would be okay, if Alex was beside her instead.
“We’ll go to the ballet and the symphony. We’ll spend weekends in the Umbrian mountains.”
His words tempted her. Caelis, where people didn’t care if you were a witch, and certainly didn’t report you to the police. And Alex, the boy she trusted most in the world.
She closed her eyes. This fragile feeling in her chest felt like hope.
No.
She shut the feeling down. She pulled her hand free.
“What you’re describing is a happy ending. A fantasy.” She used his shoulders to steady herself as she hopped down from the chair. “And that’s great—for you. Not everyone gets to have that.”
Countless witches had their happy endings stolen from them. Witches like Nan. And Verity’s sisters. Seraphine’s would be stolen, too, if Rune couldn’t save her in time.
Tucking the tracings under her arm and the fountain pen between her teeth, she dragged the chair back to the desk.
“You’re right. Some people are determined to live out their own personal tragedies.”
She stopped, her hands still gripping the back of the chair. Her whole body prickled with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How many of the witches you save turn around and try to save you, Rune?”
“I’ve told you before, I don’t need saving.”
“And you’ll be telling me that the day they string you up to die while the city cheers. You’ll be saying it while they cut your throat and bleed you dry.”
Why was he doing this? Alex was the one steady rock in her life. Always there to lean on.
They didn’t fight. Not ever.
“Maybe that’s what I deserve,” she said, setting the small stack of tracing paper on the desk, each piece containing one quarter of the prison’s map.
“What?” The word tore out of Alex like thunder from the sky.
Putting the pen down, Rune rolled the pieces tightly around it and slid them all back down her bodice.
“Look at me, Rune.”
He stood behind her now. But instead of turning, she stared down at a dark knot in the desk’s wood.
“I betrayed my grandmother. I led the Blood Guard straight to our house.” She fisted her hands as a wave of self-loathing crashed through her. “The day they killed her, I stood there and watched it happen. I let them all believe I hated her.” She was glad for the mask over the upper part of her face, which would help hide the tears forming in her eyes as she turned around to face him. “Innocent people don’t do things like that.”
She should have stormed that platform and denounced them all. She should have yelled the truth to the sky: that she loved Kestrel Winters, and they were demons for wanting her dead.