Текст книги "Heartless hunter"

Автор книги: Kristen Ciccarelli

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THIRTY-FOUR GIDEON

GIDEON STOOD BEFORE THE floor-to-ceiling window of his office listening to Harrow relay her most recent findings.

“The ship we found that casting mark on?” said Harrow. “An hour before it set sail, there was last-minute cargo brought on board: two barrels of wine delivered by an aristo.”

Beyond the window, the scarlet sun set over the capital. The Ministry of Public Safety perched on a hill in the center of the capital, giving a view to the harbor.

Gideon wasn’t admiring the view. He was using his reflection in the glass to adjust his new suit jacket while he listened to Harrow’s report.

“Unfortunately, the man’s hood concealed his face,” Harrow continued. “And there was no moon that night. So the dockhands couldn’t identify him.”

“How do they know he was an aristo?” asked Gideon, doing up his cuff links.

The jacket was a gift from Rune, and had arrived less than an hour ago. To replace the one I ruined, said her accompanying note. He’d turned the note over, looking for the rest, but there was nothing more.

It had been three days since he’d left Rune in that garden. Leaving her there had been more difficult than he cared to admit.

“The dockhands said he had a sophisticated way of speaking, like someone with an education. He also wore a ring on his smallest finger.”

“Is that all? It narrows down nothing.” Gideon sighed. “Half the aristocracy bejewel their hands with rings.”

“This one was plain and thin. Silver, maybe. They described it as a poor man’s wedding band.”

Gideon shook his head. “Perhaps he was a poor man. A man can be both poor and intelligent.”

“I’m simply relaying information,” said Harrow. “No need to get touchy. Both boys suspected he didn’t share their station, despite his attempts to obscure it.”

“He might have been nothing more than a merchant, late with his cargo.”

Gideon wondered if Rune—or whoever she employed to oversee her shipping business—kept lists of inventories aboard each ship, and if such a list might still exist weeks after the ship delivered its cargo.

“I’ll keep my eyes open for an aristo wearing a plain silver band,” he said finally, returning to his reflection and eyeing the suit jacket. He’d never worn anything so fine. It was double-breasted, ocher in color, and made of satin. It fit him surprisingly well, and, judging from the shop name on the box, Rune had spent a small fortune on it.

When Gideon first opened the box, he could almost smell her. A delicate scent. Like the wind bringing him the essence of the sea. Beautiful and wild and … dangerous.

He frowned, shaking off the thought.

She clearly meant for him to wear the coat to the Luminaries Dinner tonight. In fact, if he didn’t leave soon, he was going to be late.

Turning away from the window, Gideon started for the door. “I—”

“There’s something else,” said Harrow.

Gideon halted, meeting her gaze. “What is it?”

“Rumors,” she said. “Unverified.”

No mocking smile tugged at her mouth, and no mischief gleamed in her eyes. He nodded for her to go on.

“Some of my contacts say there have been casting marks seen around town. In alleyways and attics. Often several signatures together. As if witches are gathering in small groups.”

Like an alarm ringing through his body, all of Gideon’s senses heightened at once. “Were any of these incidents reported to the Guard?”

Harrow shook her head. “People fear becoming suspects themselves. If soldiers find a witch’s signature in someone’s attic, they might be accused of sympathizing. Others secretly welcome the witches’ return. Like those who suffered for their loyalty to the dead queens. Or those who were promised better lives under the Red Peace, only to find their conditions have worsened.”

Gideon remembered the moth flickering over the door of the mine the other night in Seldom Harbor.

“Do any of these signatures belong to her?”

“No one has reported a crimson moth. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t among them. Or leading them.” Harrow lowered her voice. “Gideon, Penitents are saying the witches are rising, coming to take back what’s theirs. They think something big is about to happen. Something formidable enough to bring down the entire regime.”

The thought of it turned Gideon’s stomach.

Witches could not return to power. He’d devoted his life to ensuring it.

“The Good Commander needs to be told.” If what Harrow said was true—that more people were secretly sympathizing with witches, letting them gather in their houses and factories—they might have to bring back the raids, like in the days following the New Dawn.

“Speaking of the Moth,” said Harrow, “what happened to your trap? I expected Rune Winters to be imprisoned by now.”

Gideon fisted his hand, remembering how close he’d come down in the mine. “My plan failed. I think we’ve gone down a false trail.”

“Did you take my advice?”

His thoughts raced back to Rune in the garden. It had taken all of his willpower to walk away from her. On the ride home, he’d nearly turned back twice.

The thought of Alex had stopped him.

Gideon blew out a frustrated breath.

Did he regret kissing her? Yes. Absolutely. What kind of man kisses the girl of his little brother’s dreams?

But he also liked it.

He thought of Rune on the beach, stripping off her clothes. Letting him look.

Heat flickered deep inside him.

Gideon ran a palm over his eyes, trying to chase the image out of his brain. “I took your stupid advice, yes.”

“You got her naked.”

He looked away as the blood rushed to his face.

Harrow whistled. “You do move fast. And?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing. No scars.”

“But you were thorough?”

“As thorough as I could be.”

“So, you slept with her?”

“What? No.” The thought of it turned the flickering heat into a raging inferno. “No. We went swimming the other night.”

Harrow raised a skeptical brow.

“I looked,” Gideon growled. “I found nothing.”

“You said you went at night. How well could you see?”

“Harrow.”

“Gideon. This is a witch who’s escaped detection for two years now. She won’t keep her scars where anyone can find them. Did you look between her thighs?”

The thought of Rune’s thighs made him grind his palms into his eyes. “Stop.”

“Because if I were a witch hiding in plain sight, that’s definitely where I’d keep mine.”

Gideon groaned. “You’re killing me, Harrow.”

“You need to sleep with her.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Of course he’d thought about it. It had physically hurt to turn down Rune’s invitation. The moment he got home, he’d gone straight into a cold shower, so he could stop thinking about it.

If they were truly courting, it’s all he’d be thinking about.

But they weren’t courting. Not really. So he needed to not think about it.

“It’s the only way to know for certain.”

“No,” he said again.

It was too far. A crossed line.

“If you were committed, Comrade,” said Harrow, crossing her arms, “if you truly want to catch your little Moth as badly as you say you do, you’d leave no stone unturned.”

He ran both hands roughly over his face this time, then through his hair, tugging on it.

“Come on, Gideon. With a face like that, it won’t be a chore.”

Gideon felt too many things at once. His chest knotted with frustration. His body ached with desire. Worst of all, he suspected Harrow was right. It had been dark when they went swimming. He’d looked at Rune from a distance. And he hadn’t truly inspected every inch of her.

The thought of doing so made him swallow hard.

If he wanted to know, without a doubt, whether Rune Winters was a witch, he would have to take this to the end of the line.

But could he live with himself afterward?

On the one hand, his brother might never speak to him again. On the other, if Rune was the Crimson Moth—and if the Moth was not only rescuing witches, but murdering Blood Guard soldiers and planning an uprising—Gideon had a responsibility to do whatever it took to find out. To stop her.

He growled low in his throat. “Fine.”

He remembered Rune pulling off her dress. The fabric sliding up her legs, over her hips, along her torso. Thought of her dropping the dress in the sand and peeling off her undergarments.

Feeling strangely breathless, he said, “I’ll do it.”

Once he knew for certain if she was innocent, he could proceed accordingly. If Rune wasn’t the Moth, nor in league with her, she posed no threat to Alex. In which case, Gideon would break off this courtship before things escalated further and point her toward the man who actually deserved her: his brother.

And if she is the Moth …

Flashes of memory shimmered like glass: Rune, wading naked through the water toward him. The soft give of her waist beneath his hand. The taste of her skin—like sea salt and soap.

But it wasn’t only her physical attributes that had him spinning. It was her kindness. Her thoughtfulness. Her wildness. It was her willingness to argue with him.

If he wasn’t careful, he might fall in love with her.

Gideon started toward the door.

“If you have nothing else to report, I’ll take my leave.”

He was already running late.

“Nothing else,” said Harrow, falling into step behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The moment they walked out of his office and into the hallway, a soldier from his regiment strode toward them. Harrow leaned against the wall, keeping out of their way. At the sight of the young woman’s blanched face, Gideon stayed where he was.

“Captain.” The soldier halted before Gideon. “The Tasker brothers still haven’t reported for duty.”

“Still?” Gideon had thought it strange when he was first made aware of their absence earlier in the day. It wasn’t like them. The Taskers’ bloodlust for witches made them devoted soldiers. Gideon might despise their tactics, but their work ethic was top-notch.

And it was evening now.

Tardiness was one thing. But missing an entire shift?

Gideon frowned, thinking of the mutilated bodies of Blood Guard soldiers found across the city these past few months. Like a trail of bloody bread crumbs.

An ominous feeling settled over him.

He glanced at his watch. “Can you send Laila to check their apartment?”

“Laila’s at the prison tonight.”

He could send another officer, but what if the brothers weren’t there? Would another soldier know where else to look? Gideon would know. But he was already late for the Luminaries Dinner. If he went to look himself, he might miss the dinner entirely.

Gideon ran his palm across his forehead.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. But I need a telegram sent immediately.”

“Of course, sir.”

Walking back into his office, Gideon grabbed the fountain pen off his desk and scrawled a hasty note. Folding it, he wrote down the address, and handed it over. “Make sure this message gets to Wintersea within the hour.”

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THIRTY-FIVE RUNE

MAJORA: (n.) the second-highest spell category.

Majora Spells are major spells requiring the fresh blood of someone else, either taken with permission or given freely. Examples of Majora Spells include: summoning a natural disaster or inflicting a deadly disease.

—From Rules of Magic by Queen Callidora the Valiant

“I ENCHANTED THE JACKET,” said Rune, standing in her shift as Verity pinned up her hair.

“Gideon’s jacket? That was bold.” The words were mumbled around the pin clenched between Verity’s teeth. “Where did you put the spellmark?”

“In one of the interior pockets.”

Rune had drawn the bloody mark for Truth Teller inside the pocket a few hours ago and sent the package off. If it arrived on time, and Gideon wore it, Rune would pull the answers she needed from him like loose threads from a sweater.

Rune was determined to be more ruthless tonight. After three days of his silence—no telegrams, no flowers, no more requests for walks—Rune had to conclude he’d forgotten her. Normally after such an encounter, her suitors tried to secure her affection by sending extravagant bouquets or inviting her on intimate picnics in the countryside.

Not Gideon Sharpe. Clearly, he couldn’t care less.

“There,” said Verity, twisting up the last red-gold strand and putting one final pin in Rune’s hair. “All done.”

Rune glanced into the mirror. In a style that looked deceptively simple, her friend had braided several thin strands and weaved them into the loose waves, then pinned all of it up in an elegant bun at the back of Rune’s head.

Having grown up with older sisters who’d taught her all their tricks, Verity always did Rune’s hair better than she ever could.

“What are you going to wear?” asked Verity, who was still in the white blouse and pleated skirt of her school uniform. She’d come straight from class to get Rune ready for the Luminaries Dinner. Verity might be displeased with Rune courting Gideon, but she was still committed to helping her.

As Rune went to fetch her new dress, Lizbeth knocked at the door.

“A telegram for you, Miss Rune,” said the housekeeper, setting it down on the dresser.

Rune picked it up, her pulse quickening. She broke the seal and unfolded it.

MISS RUNE WINTERS

WINTERSEA HOUSE

I WILL BE LATE TO DINNER TONIGHT. THERE IS A MATTER THAT NEEDS MY IMMEDIATE ATTENTION.

GIDEON

Her shoulders fell, along with her hopes. This was the first she’d heard from him in three days, and there was neither an apology nor a promise to make it up to her.

Is there truly some urgent matter, or is he avoiding me?

“Who is it from?” asked Verity, peering over her shoulder.

Rune shook off the sting and held the telegram out to her friend.

“Gideon’s going to be late.”

Verity’s eyes narrowed on the message. She glanced up. “Will your spell last long enough?”

“It should last until midnight.” The magic would fade a little as the night wore on, but that wasn’t what she was worried about.

What if he doesn’t come at all? What if he’s changed his mind about me?

Maybe their conversation had convinced him she was exactly as shallow as she pretended to be. Or her kissing wasn’t up to his standards. Or maybe, upon seeing her fully undressed, Gideon had decided he was no longer interested.

Rune chewed at her thumbnail. She wasn’t used to being rejected. She hated feeling like she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or pretty enough. Was this how a real courtship made you feel? Fragile and unsteady? Like the slightest breeze could knock you over?

Worse than all of this, if Gideon didn’t come tonight, he’d ruin her plan before she could even put it into action. She needed him to come, to be interested in her, so she could get the information required to rescue Seraphine.

“I’m coming with you,” said Verity, wrenching Rune from her thoughts.

“What? No. Don’t ruin your evening.” Rune sat on her bed. “You have homework to do, and tests to study for.”

“And you have to give that dreadful speech. All alone. The least I can do is provide moral support. Who knows? Maybe I can do some poking around while I’m there. I could pretend to get lost, and when some helpful guard escorts me back, I’ll ask a few innocent questions about the prison’s security …”

In truth, if Gideon was going to jilt her, and so publicly, Rune wanted Verity close by. Looking her friend’s uniform up and down, she said, “You’ll have to borrow a dress.”

“Obviously,” said Verity, smiling as she moved toward Rune’s closet full of clothes.

“Take whatever you like,” said Rune. “Except for the green one hanging on the door.”

It was the gown Gideon had made her.

She’d sewn a hidden pocket inside it. As her friend searched for something to wear, Rune opened the false wall of her casting room and stepped inside. As she went to retrieve her blood vial—in case she needed any extra spells tonight—a book on the desk caught her eye.

Rune rarely left spell books lying around, and she didn’t immediately recognize this one. She stepped up to the desk, glancing down at its gilt edges and thick spine. Opening to the first page, she realized it was one of Nan’s rarer spell books, full of powerful curses.

That’s odd.

The spells in this book were too powerful for Rune to cast. So why was it on the desk? She didn’t remember bringing it down from the shelves.

Maybe Verity did? Her friend liked to search these books for new spells that might be useful for Rune to learn.

The only other person who knew about this room was Alex.

And Lizbeth. Lizbeth sometimes came in uninvited to dust the shelves and sweep the floor.

Symbols graced the spell book’s pages, along with stylized illustrations and detailed descriptions. As she flipped through it, the book fell open near the middle, to a spell called Earth Sunderer.

On the left page were seven golden spellmarks, each one more complicated than the last. Beneath them lay a description of what the curse did. The opposite page contained an illustration of a town carved in half. An earthquake had ruptured the city, breaking buildings and severing streets while the town’s inhabitants screamed in fear.

“Don’t even think about trying that one.”

Rune glanced up to find Verity beside her, peering down at the page, a dress hanging over her arm.

“If an unlocking spell makes you faint, this spell will put you in a coma.” Turning the book so she could see it better, Verity’s gaze skimmed the description. “You need someone else’s blood—and a lot of it—to cast this one.”

The words reminded Rune of her conversation with Gideon in the woods, and the things he’d said about the Sister Queens. If anyone knew the truth, it would be Verity. Her sisters were friends with the Rosebloods, and they had often cast spells together.

“Verity? Do you think the Roseblood sisters used Arcana spells?”

Verity glanced up from the spell book’s pages. “Why do you ask?”

“Gideon told me something strange the other night.” A warm burn moved across Rune’s cheeks as she thought of him on the beach. Of his clothes hitting the sand and the sea sluicing over his chest.

Of his mouth on hers.

She forged ahead. “He accused Cressida and her sisters of killing people and using the blood to cast spells. He said they were corrupted by bad magic.”

“And you believe him?”

Rune thought of the brand on Gideon’s chest: the raised, red skin in the shape of a rose and crescent. That scar alone seemed proof that Cressida, at least, was more than capable of extreme cruelty. “I don’t know what to believe. It would explain why they were so powerful.”

Verity’s eyes grew clouded. “This was how my stepfather turned my mother against my sisters.”

Rune drew back, startled. “What?”

“My sisters used each other’s blood for their Majora spells. With permission, of course. But my stepfather walked in on them one day, in the middle of a casting. After, he declared their magic an abomination and convinced my mother the only way for my sisters to cleanse themselves and be pure again was to beat the wickedness out of them.”

Rune stared in horror at Verity, who’d never told her any of this.

Seeing the way her friend trembled, Rune reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “That’s awful.”

Verity’s grip tightened on Rune, her knuckles turning bone white. “He would lock them up for days. Beat their bare backs with belts. Force them to kneel for hours on broken glass.” As if reliving the scenes, Verity dug her fingernails into Rune’s skin.

“The worst of it was, my mother let him. She’d lost our baby sister in childbirth years before, and never recovered from her grief. My stepfather used her fragile state against her, convincing her that my sisters were wicked to their cores. So when she heard their screams, she did nothing. She sided with him over her own daughters.”

And then she handed those daughters over to the Blood Guard, thought Rune.

No wonder Verity hated her parents. This was why she wore herself down to keep her scholarship—so she’d never have to go home or be at their mercy.

But …

Ouch.

Rune glanced down to see her friend’s fingernails about to break her skin. “Verity, you’re hurting me.”

For a moment, it seemed like Verity wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. But she shook her head and let go. “S-sorry.”

Rune pulled her hand toward her chest, studying the little half-moon marks in her skin. “It’s all right. You’re upset.”

“My sisters weren’t corrupt,” said Verity, her eyes pleading with Rune to believe her. “They weren’t abominations. Witches have been using each other’s blood to amplify their spells for centuries. There’s nothing wrong with what they did.”

Verity nodded to the book on Rune’s desk, lying open to Earth Sunderer.

“That spell, for example. No witch can cast something this powerful using solely her own blood. She’d seriously hurt herself.”

Your sisters weren’t using each other’s blood against their will, though, Rune wanted to point out. Which was the accusation Gideon had made against the queens.

But Verity was distressed by the memory. And Rune couldn’t blame her. So she let it go.

“Come on,” said Rune, grabbing the blood vial she’d come in here to get, then eyeing the dress hanging over Verity’s arm—one of last season’s fashions. “Let’s find you something better to wear.”

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