Текст книги "Heartless hunter"

Автор книги: Kristen Ciccarelli

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

TWENTY-SIX GIDEON

GIDEON LEFT HIS HORSE with the stable hand and strode through the gilt doors of Oakhaven Park. A small chandelier winked overhead, sending fractured light over the guests in the front foyer, all of them waiting for staff to pull up their carriages. On either side of Gideon were twin marble staircases, both leading to the second floor of Octavia Creed’s home.

Gideon had fought alongside her husband, the Good Commander, at the New Dawn. The Commander was only Nicolas Creed then. A simple soldier in the palace guard.

They’d met years ago, in a boxing club, when Gideon was getting the shit kicked out of him nightly. Those matches always ended the same way: with Gideon hauling his bruised body from the floor of the ring, dragging himself to a table at the bar in the back, and pretending not to notice the sneering men around him. All of them disgusted by his presence. Witch’s whore, they’d called him. They didn’t want Gideon in their ring. But neither would they throw him out, fearing Cressida’s wrath.

Since they couldn’t get rid of him, the men took turns beating Gideon to a pulp night after night. Taking out their anger and hate on a target Gideon was happy to provide them.

Really, they were doing him a favor.

Gideon never told Cressida how he came by the bruises, and she either didn’t care, or pretended not to.

One night, after crawling out of her bed like the insect he was, Gideon noticed a man old enough to be his father watching from across the bar as Gideon drank himself into oblivion before a match.

While the other men spat on Gideon when they walked by, this man only stared. He assumed the guy would wait for Gideon to leave, follow him out to the alley, and finish whatever the boys didn’t finish in the ring. Sometimes, they did that. These men who hated him.

He caught the man’s eye, welcoming it.

When Gideon’s match started, he was already high from the laudanum in his blood. His vision blurred and his body swayed, but he could still feel the man’s gaze on him. When he lay on the floor afterward—numb despite the punches he’d taken, feeling none of the welts coming up on his skin, unable to taste the blood in his mouth—it was this man who stopped them from dumping Gideon next to the refuse out back, where they usually put him.

Instead, he helped Gideon over to a private table and ordered him food. As the room spun, Gideon lay his bloody head down on the sticky tabletop, wishing his opponent had broken a bone this time, because maybe then he would feel something.

“If one day you wake up and decide you want to hit back,” said the man across from him, “come find me.” He wrote an address down, pressed it into Gideon’s open palm, and folded his limp fingers over the paper.

That man was Nicolas Creed.

He’d been the only person in that club to see Gideon as something more than a witch’s whore. He’d looked beneath the bruises, to the boy with nothing left to live for.

It was Nicolas who taught Gideon how to box, showing him he didn’t have to take punches—he could throw them, harder and more skillfully than his opponent.

It was Nicolas who’d believed in Gideon when Gideon didn’t believe in himself.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, as he stood in Nicolas’s wife’s foyer nearly three years later, Gideon buried the memory before he limped up the staircase, following the contented buzz of chattering guests. People stared as he passed, surprised by the captain’s presence. He scanned their masked faces, looking for Rune, and moved on when he didn’t see her.

Gideon wore no mask. While Laila and the others had headed for the docks, he’d gone home to clean and dress the knife wound in his leg, then changed into another one of his father’s suits—Gideon didn’t own any of his own—and rode straight here.

“I hope things went smoothly for you, Gideon.” The voice belonged to Charlotte Gong, and it stopped him in his tracks. He turned to find her face half-hidden by a rabbit mask. A gold engagement ring gleamed at her neck.

Smoothly? He considered asking what she meant, except time was of the essence. He needed to find Rune and arrest her.

The moment he stepped into the ballroom, Gideon realized the magnitude of the task before him. There had to be a hundred people in here, likely more wandering the grounds, and all of their faces were hidden behind masks.

Sighing roughly, Gideon began a sweep, starting from the eastern side of the ballroom, keeping to the edges to avoid the dancing. He looked for a certain shade of strawberry blonde hair, and when he came up short, he widened his search to include her friend Verity (brown curls) and Alex (tawny hair). They were often at Rune’s side, and if he could spot one, the other two would likely be nearby.

At the thought of his brother, Gideon paused.

If he arrested Rune tonight, he needed to do it without his brother knowing. In private would be best. To do that, he’d have to get Rune away from this crowd.

He could break the bad news to Alex once it was over.

Gideon had started his second sweep of the room when someone called his name.

“Citizen Sharpe! You made it! I feared you wouldn’t.”

He spun to face the owner of the voice and found a girl in a glittering fox mask staring at him. Someone’s suit jacket hung from her shoulders.

Rune?

Her lips were bright red and smiling beneath the cut of the mask, and she’d braided her hair into a tight knot at the back of her head. It looked darker than its usual red-gold hue. As if she’d gotten caught in the rain, and it was still damp.

Or perhaps fell into a small body of water.

His eyes narrowed.

Remembering Laila’s words from earlier—I think my last shot hit her—Gideon’s attention moved from Rune’s face downward, checking her quickly for signs of a wound. His gaze skimmed the fitted bodice of her gray dress and the silk gloves covering her arms, but she appeared to be in fine form. Not at all like a criminal who’d raced desperately to get here tonight.

Stepping in closer, she laid her hand on his arm.

“How did the transfer go?”

He frowned. Was she going to pretend tonight hadn’t happened?

“It went exactly as planned.” Technically true. He’d transferred Seraphine Oakes earlier today, after meeting with Harrow. The witch was locked in a cell deep in the palace prison.

Gideon glanced around to see if Alex lurked about—or any of Rune’s suitors. He needed to get her alone, as soon as possible, and make the arrest.

“I was telling the girls at Charlotte’s luncheon about it,” she said, tucking her hand into his elbow and leading him deeper into the room. As if she truly didn’t realize he was about to arrest her. “Naturally, I’ll need to give them an update.”

She smiled up at him, waiting for details.

Gideon blinked. “You … did what?”

If Rune had gossiped away the information he gave her, it meant other people had the same information.

Gideon suddenly remembered Charlotte on the stairs. I hope things went smoothly for you.

Seeing his reaction, Rune’s hand fell from his elbow. “Oh. Was it supposed to be a secret?” She worried one red lip between her teeth. “I should have realized. Drat.”

His thoughts spun.

Rune had told him about the luncheon earlier, before he’d given her the false lead. Knowing how much Rune and her friends loved gossip, he was certain she had spilled the information at her little gathering.

“How could I be so senseless?” she cried. “I feel awful!”

Feeling overly warm, he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. “How many guests were at this luncheon?”

“Hmm. Hard to say.” She twisted her lips. “A few dozen, maybe?”

Knowing the way gossip spread in Rune’s social circles, that number had likely ballooned long before tonight. And if dozens of people knew the location he’d given Rune as of noon today, any one of them might be the Moth, or in league with her.

Anyone could have been at the mine tonight.

He stared at Rune, unsure if she was obtuse, or a master of deception. She had drastically widened his net of suspects—but intentionally or unintentionally?

Is she actively sabotaging me? Or is she innocent?

He didn’t know. And either way, he could no longer arrest her. Not without further evidence.

Gideon ground his teeth together. He was back to square one.

“Rune, we’re leaving now. Are you ready?”

They turned to find Alex standing several paces away in a crisp white shirt with his usual brown suspenders. It made Gideon realize whose coat hung from Rune’s shoulders.

“Verity has an exam tomorrow morning,” Alex explained to Gideon. He pushed back his lion mask from his face and locked eyes with his brother.

The girl in question—Verity de Wilde—stood next to Alex, her face half-hidden behind a raven mask. She crossed her arms tightly over the bodice of her scarlet dress as she stared down Gideon, like she did not approve of how close he stood to Rune.

“What does Verity’s exam have to do with you?” Gideon asked Rune.

Verity’s clipped voice answered for her. “Rune and I came with Alex tonight. He’s taking us both home.”

Oh.

Gideon stepped back, away from them all. If Rune had come to this masked ball with his brother, she couldn’t have also been in Seldom Harbor.

It was another strike against him.

Rune might lie, but Alex wouldn’t. His brother would never knowingly sabotage him by aiding a dangerous witch. Not after everything their family had been through.

As the three friends turned to leave, Gideon watched Alex press his hand to the small of Rune’s back.

At least he’s taking my advice.

For some strange reason, this didn’t make Gideon feel better.

It made him feel much worse.

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TWENTY-SEVEN RUNE

THE CARRIAGE BUMPED AND jostled Rune as Alex’s driver took them down the cobbled lanes of the city. Verity and Alex sat facing Rune, who sat alone on the opposite bench.

She should have felt victorious at the look on Gideon’s face when he realized she’d turned the tables on him. Instead, she felt … drained. Like she could sleep for a month straight if given the chance.

Maybe that’s what I’ll do in Caelis, she thought. Then caught herself. She still hadn’t decided if she was going with Alex, never mind going for a month.

An unfamiliar tension radiated between them since leaving the warden’s study, and she could feel his eyes on her from the other side of the carriage. What had he been about to say before Verity barged into the room?

“Let’s get a look at this map.”

Right. The map.

Outside, the moon was almost full. It cast just enough light through the windows to see. Sinking down to the floor of the carriage, Rune pulled out the tracings and unrolled them, piecing them together.

Verity and Alex leaned forward to get a better look.

“There are seven sections,” said Rune, squinting at the circles she’d traced. A gate marked the entrance to the first and biggest section, the outermost circle. In each concentric circle after it, moving toward the center, were more gates. Seven in total. And each entry was named after one of the seven Ancients.

Mercy, Liberty, Wisdom, Justice, Amity, Patience, Fortitude.

Rune remembered when the opera house columns still bore the painted likenesses of the Ancients. The images were destroyed by fire when patriots ransacked the building during the revolution. The columns had since been painted over, but Rune could still picture the renderings of the witches in her mind: Amity, mid-laugh and her hair a wild tangle; Wisdom, with her secretive smile; Justice, turning her face toward the sky …

“Do you know which section they’re keeping Seraphine in?” asked Alex.

Rune shook her head. Not only did she not know what section or cell Seraphine was in, Rune didn’t know how many guards she’d need to evade. Or how one passed through the gates, which would be locked. Who held the keys? Once she was on the other side of all the gates, how would she get back out?

“This feels impossible,” said Rune, her shoulders slumping.

“There’s a reason they call it impregnable,” said Alex.

“Unhelpful,” said Verity, shooting him a look. She joined Rune on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her dress and leaning over the map as the carriage jolted beneath them. Rune’s nose prickled. One of these days, she would gently suggest to her friend not to dab so much perfume on …

But not tonight. Tonight, if Rune felt exhausted, Verity looked it. There were dark circles under her eyes, and every few minutes, her loud yawns broke the silence in the carriage. Not for the first time, Rune felt guilty stealing Verity away from her studies, certain her friend’s grades were suffering for it.

Verity would scold her if she knew what Rune was thinking. She and Rune were in this together. In it in a way Alex never would be. Rune had lost her grandmother to the purge; Verity had lost her sisters. Both wanted to rescue as many witches as they could—to make up for the ones they hadn’t been able to save.

“I wish I had a spell for walking through walls,” said Rune, leaning her head back against the carriage seat and staring at Alex.

“Is there such a thing?”

She shrugged. “I’ve never come across one.”

Verity pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure there’s a spell for blasting through walls. But you’ll need a lot more blood to pull off that kind of thing. Blood you don’t have.”

She pulled a pencil and notepad from her pocket and started writing. The edge of her tongue popped out of the corner of her mouth as she dutifully made a list.

“We’ll need to know: where Seraphine is located; how the gates work; roughly how many guards …”

“How Rune will get out after she gets in,” Alex added, sounding displeased but taking part.

“What day they’re planning to purge her,” said Rune.

This was her last chance. If she arrived too late this time, she wouldn’t get another.

When she finished her list, Verity lowered her notepad to her knee and started tapping the paper with her pen. “That’s a lot of information.”

“Laila will know some of these answers,” offered Alex. “Her mother’s the warden, and she’s a witch hunter. She’ll have been inside that prison more than once.”

“The girl who shot me tonight?” Rune arched her brows, remembering the opera house, and Laila’s less-than-playful guesses about why she’d been late.

Verity seemed to remember the same thing. She shook her head. “I don’t like the way Laila looks at Rune these days. Best to avoid her. However …” Mischief danced in her eyes. “Her brother might be helpful.”

“Noah’s not a witch hunter,” Alex pointed out.

“But his sister is, and his mother is a warden. Noah’s smart. He pays attention. And …” Verity spoke to Rune now. “… he’s at the top of your list of eligible suitors. If you got him alone—”

“Eligible what?” interrupted Alex. He looked to Rune. “What is she talking about?”

Rune winced, remembering how they’d excluded Alex from this plan. Deciding it was well past time to fill him in, she said, “Verity made me a list of eligible men to—”

“No.”

The ferocity of the word surprised them both.

“I’ll talk to Noah,” said Alex, his voice like quiet thunder. “I’ve invited him and Bart over for cards this week.”

Rune glanced up to find him glowering at her.

“What are you going to do, casually ask him how to get past the gates of his mother’s prison?” She shook her head. “The likelihood of Noah knowing any of these answers, never mind all of them, is so slim. It’s not worth the risk of raising his suspicions.”

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but Rune didn’t let him.

“I already have a better solution.”

It had been burning inside her this whole time, like a quiet candle flame. She hadn’t mentioned it because she knew what they’d say.

Verity looked up from her list. “Let’s hear it.”

“Gideon knows every single one of these answers. If I use my truth-telling spell—”

“You tried that already,” Verity pointed out. “It didn’t work.”

“You tried that already?” Alex dragged his hands through his hair.

Rune ignored him.

“It didn’t work because he refused the wine,” she argued with Verity. “But I can fuse the spell to anything. A coat. A shoe. A watch. I could enchant a thimble and slip it into his pocket. He wouldn’t even know it’s there.”

“He’ll know,” said Alex. “He’s well acquainted with magic.”

“Not my magic,” countered Rune. “Every witch’s essence is unique.”

After the trap he’d laid for her—a trap she’d stupidly walked straight into—Rune wanted nothing more than to end things with Gideon. He was altogether too clever. But to cut him loose now, when he suspected her most, would be akin to an admission of guilt.

Rune couldn’t retreat. She needed to go on the offensive. She had to appear smitten. Like she’d never encountered him at that mine tonight.

“As a Blood Guard captain, Gideon has brought witches through those gates hundreds of times. He’ll know where Seraphine is, as well as her purging date.”

“He already suspects you, Rune!”

“He didn’t arrest me tonight,” she pointed out. She’d bought herself more time with that luncheon. How much time, she didn’t know.

This didn’t seem to soothe them. Rune couldn’t exactly blame her friends. She might have outwitted Gideon temporarily, but she hadn’t thrown him off her scent for good.

“All I need is something to enchant. Something he’d wear on his person.”

“And the spellmark?” challenged Verity. “He’ll see it and realize what you are.”

“Then I need to enchant something where I can easily hide a spellmark. I’ll figure it out, okay? The Luminaries Dinner is in four days. I’ll ask him to accompany me. And afterward, I’ll use the spell to get the answers I need from him.”

“Afterward,” said Alex, darkly.

Verity said nothing. She’d gone utterly quiet.

They suddenly both annoyed Rune. Couldn’t they see this was their best option?

“If either of you come up with a better solution, I’ll call the whole thing off. Until then, this is the plan.”

Alex turned sharply to the carriage window, his fingers twisting that silver ring around and around his smallest finger. Verity merely scowled.

AFTER ALEX DROPPED HER off at Wintersea House with barely a word of goodbye, Rune dictated a telegram for Lizbeth to handle:

GIDEON SHARPE

113 PRUDENCE ST, OLD TOWN

COME WITH ME TO THE LUMINARIES DINNER?

RUNE

Afterward, she promptly fell into bed, trying not to think about Alex’s anger, or his tempting invitation to Caelis, or the tension between them tonight. Fighting with Alex made her feel unbalanced. Like a ship they’d been sailing smoothly on for years had suddenly plunged into stormy waters.

Alex never blurred the line between his loyalty to Rune and his love for Gideon. He liked to keep them separate. In courting Gideon, Rune was shrinking the gap between those parts of his life, and it was making him anxious. That’s all this was. That’s why he was being so protective.

Rune shook her head. She couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. So she put her oldest friend out of her mind and fell asleep.

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TWENTY-EIGHT RUNE

IT WAS A FULL day and a half before she received a response from Gideon. Rune was in her casting room, working on her Luminaries speech, when Lizbeth interrupted.

“A package arrived for you.”

Rune, who was in the middle of spewing extravagant lies onto the page with her pen, asked her to leave it on the desk. Only when she came to the end of the paragraph did she look up.

It was a plain white box tied with pale blue ribbons.

Wintersea blue, she thought.

Eyeing the box, Rune rose to her feet. Stretching the kink in her neck, she shoved aside the speech she was writing and pulled the package closer. Loosening the ribbon, she removed the lid, then pushed back the brown paper. A folded mint-green garment laid inside. Resting on top of it was a note written in black ink.

Are you asking me to be your date?

—Gideon

Rune read and reread those words before flipping the paper over and looking for more. But that was all he’d written.

Is that a yes? she wondered.

Glancing at the pale green fabric, she set the note aside and pulled out the dress. Something flickered inside her as it unraveled. Her pulse sped up as she took in the tapered lace sleeves and the delicately embroidered bodice.

After loosening the laces, Rune stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the elegant dress. The silk was smooth as water against her skin and the lace sleeves fit her arms like gloves. Without someone to do the laces up, she left the back open, stepped into the matching silk shoes the dress had arrived with, and walked into her bedroom to stand before the full-length mirror.

Her heart nearly lodged in her throat.

The mint green and white lace complemented her pale complexion and brought out the shades of red in her hair. As her fingers traced the almost imperceptible pattern of waves across the bodice, Rune tried to remind herself how much she loathed the boy who’d made it.

But it was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen, never mind worn, and Rune couldn’t stop the startling warmth rippling through her. She wished she’d asked Lizbeth to stay, to tie the laces so it would fit properly.

The tulle of her dress swished around her legs as she waded back to her desk. Sinking into the chair, she grabbed a pen and paper, then jotted down a response.

Gideon Sharpe

113 Prudence St, Old Town

Yes, Gideon. I’m asking you to be my date.

Rune

P.S. My plan is to win you over so you’ll keep making me dresses forever.

P.P.S. Let me know when it’s working.

She found it hard to concentrate after that and was almost relieved when Lizbeth interrupted again. Rune had moved from writing her speech at her desk to reciting it as she paced the room.

“Miss Rune …” Lizbeth glanced over her shoulder and stepped into the casting room. “There’s a visitor here to see you. He’s in the foyer.”

Rune, who wasn’t expecting any callers, looked up from the page she was reading. “Who is it?”

Lizbeth lowered her voice. “That Blood Guard captain.”

Gideon? Rune’s eyes widened. What could he want?

“Tell him …” She was still wearing the dress he’d made her, the laces down the back undone. “Tell him I’ll be right down. And maybe offer some refreshments?”

Lizbeth nodded, then disappeared.

Darn. She’d purchased a suit jacket for Gideon in town yesterday—to enchant with Truth Teller, and to atone for the one she’d ruined with wine. Not that she could ever truly atone for ruining a Sharpe Duet jacket. Even now, the memory stabbed her with guilt. To fit him, though, the seamstress needed to make a few adjustments, so Rune didn’t yet have the jacket in her hands, and therefore couldn’t use it to get information.

It’s fine, she told herself, shrugging off the dress. Just make yourself presentable and go down there.

Rune reached for the clothes she’d cast off earlier, only to find them wrinkled from lying in a heap.

Needing something else to wear, Rune ran to her wardrobe and pulled on the first thing she found: a simple cotton sundress that fell to her knees. She hurried barefoot down the stairs and immediately slowed upon seeing the young man in her foyer.

Gideon faced away from her, clasping his hands behind his back as he eyed his surroundings. He wore plain brown trousers and had rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows, showing off his forearms.

Rune’s heart stumbled at the sight of him. This was the same boy who had her pinned beneath him two nights ago. The same boy she’d stabbed in the leg with a knife.

“Gideon,” she said, recovering. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He spun to face her, and Rune quailed a little beneath his penetrating gaze. How much did he remember from the mine? It had been so dark down there. Even when he lit the flare, he hadn’t removed her hood in time to see her. But could he still know, somehow, that it was her?

Her legs felt like jelly. Rune gripped the railing a little too hard and kept descending the stairs. “What brings you to Wintersea?”

“I came to ask if you’d like to take a walk with me.”

“A … walk?”

“You said there’s a beach near here.” He seemed uncertain, suddenly, and unclasped his hands. “If you’re busy—”

“Oh! Yes. I mean, no, not busy. Yes, there is a beach.” She reached the bottom of the steps, weirdly out of breath. “A walk would be lovely.”

“Great,” he said.

Why are you really here? she wondered.

She tried a smile, then glanced toward Lizbeth, who’d entered the foyer with a knit shawl in her hands. Taking it, Rune flung it over her shoulders.

Rune and Gideon stood awkwardly for a moment before she realized he didn’t know the way to a beach he’d never been to.

“Right.” Her cheeks reddened. “Follow me.”

She led him through the house, and only once they’d entered the gardens did she wonder if she should have strapped on her knife.

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