Текст книги "Heartless hunter"
Автор книги: Kristen Ciccarelli
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
SIXTY-TWO GIDEON
GIDEON WATCHED HIS BROTHER collapse. Watched Rune catch him and sink to the ground beneath his weight. Watched Alex cradle Rune’s face in his hands, and Rune lean down to kiss him.
And that’s when Gideon’s steps faltered.
Because Alex didn’t want Gideon at his side. He wanted her there.
When he heard Rune’s heart-shattering sob, he knew his brother was gone.
His throat constricted. No …
Alex was dead. Killed by a bullet meant for Gideon.
All the color seemed to drain from the world.
I didn’t get to say goodbye.
He fell to his knees, hands fisting in the stones. He pressed his forehead to his fists, his whole body shaking at the loss of the last person he had left. A ragged cry ripped through him, tearing out of his throat.
Is this my lot? To fail everyone I love?
A sudden BOOM! resounded through the square. Gideon lifted his head to find the world gone dark. As if someone had swallowed the sun. He heard the cracking before he felt it: the earth quaking. Rising and falling beneath his feet. Like an unruly sea.
The metallic tang of blood magic spread through the air, mingling with another scent. Salt. Like the sea.
Gideon tried to rise, but kept losing his balance.
When the sunlight returned, he found a black chasm widening in front of him, separating him from his brother’s body, and into the void poured the ocean. Protecting the witches from those coming to kill them. Tearing the town square in half.
The ground continued to shake, forcing Gideon to step away from the edge, lest the shuddering earth thrust him over. As white waves churned, rushing to fill the gap, the dust from the earthquake rose into the air, turning it gray. His brother disappeared behind it.
Gideon turned to the surrounding chaos. Looking for Laila or Harrow—whose voice he now heard, barking orders. Hoping neither of them were near that widening chasm. If they were, they’d be swallowed.
When he glanced back, he found Cressida staring at him from the other side. Through the gray. Seraphine stood at her left. Rune, at her right.
Cressida’s pale eyes narrowed on Gideon, and he knew this was far from over.
The witch queen retreated. Her movement caused the dust to swirl, concealing her behind it. Seraphine followed, leaving only Rune, whose sorrowful gaze locked with Gideon’s until the dust cloud swallowed her, too.
His hands curled into fists.
“I will never stop hunting you, Rune Winters. No matter where you go, I will come for you.”
In her absence, Gideon saw something flutter in the air above the chasm. Small and red and delicate, its wings shimmering in the gloom.
A crimson moth.
Gideon’s heart hardened at the sight of it.
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ENTR’ACTE RUNE
RUNE STARED OUT OVER the sparkling sea, watching the broken island in the distance grow smaller and smaller. She felt like a stranger in her own body. Everything that made her Rune Winters was on that island—or had been—and she was sailing away from it.
As the gulls cawed overhead and the sails snapped in the wind, she listed off all the things she’d lost:
Wintersea, her home.
Lady, her loyal horse.
Alex, her beloved friend.
Rune swallowed, remembering him in those last moments. Gazing up at her, full of love and trust.
He would never finish his studies now, nor write another song. His music would no longer fill any halls, luring Rune to him. She would never again step into his arms and know she was safe. Never sit beside him at the opera, or the symphony. Never stroll the streets of Caelis at his side.
He was gone.
Rune felt broken beneath the weight of his absence. Their dreams of a new life were scattered to the corners of the earth, never to be put back together.
A sound from behind made her glance away from the porthole.
Across the cabin of Rune’s cargo ship, Cressida sat at a table with several other witches, planning their next move. Rune watched Cressida stand up and lean over the map spread across the table, pressing her fingertip to some point Rune couldn’t see. As she moved, the botanical scars snaking down her arms shimmered silver in the candlelight.
It was painful to look at her.
For two years, Rune had trusted the girl across the cabin with her life, believing she was Verity de Wilde. It made her dizzy to think that the entire time, her best friend hadn’t been a scholarship student, but a murderess.
What are we to each other now?
And what would Cressida expect from Rune when they landed on the Continent?
This whole time, Rune had been unwittingly saving witches for Cressida’s army. And now that they knew the heir to the Roseblood line was alive, more witches were flocking to her. Rune’s cargo ship was sailing to Caelis, where the witch queen would bolster her army and prepare to take back what was stolen from them all—ushering in a new Reign of Witches.
Rune was no fan of the New Republic, where her life was now forfeit. But neither did she want to return to what had come before the regime. She knew what Cressida was capable of and had no interest in swapping one evil for another.
But she had nowhere else to go. She couldn’t return home, where the Blood Guard waited to kill her. And with Alex gone, there was nothing waiting for her ahead.
Someone cleared their throat beside Rune, yanking her out of her thoughts. She turned away from the porthole and found Seraphine, her thin hands cupped around a mug of steaming tea.
“If you can tear a city in half,” said Seraphine, “she’ll want to know what else you’re capable of. In case you can be of use to her.”
Rune recoiled at the thought. “I have no intention of being useful to her.”
Seraphine shot her a look. “It’s better to be useful than to be dead.”
Rune considered the young woman beside her, sipping her tea. Peeking up from Seraphine’s lace collar was the hint of a silver casting scar carved into her umber skin. But Rune couldn’t make out the pattern. Feathers, maybe.
A bird?
Nan’s voice suddenly appeared in Rune’s mind: Promise me you’ll find Seraphine Oakes, my darling.
Rune had been so busy trying to accomplish the first part of Nan’s request, she’d never given thought to the second.
She’ll tell you everything I couldn’t.
“She wanted you to train me,” said Rune. If she had any hope of surviving what came next, she would need as much help as she could get.
“Who?”
“My grandmother.”
Seraphine’s thin brows shot toward her forehead. “Did she, now?”
“I think it’s why she asked me to find you. I think, somehow, she knew I was a witch.”
Beside her, Seraphine’s chest rose and fell with a sigh as she lowered her mug.
“You have a lot of catching up to do,” she said, looking Rune up and down.
Rune was about to say she wasn’t afraid to work hard, that she was determined to learn as much as she could, when Cressida glanced up, catching her gaze.
A chill dug into the base of her spine.
There was something insatiable in the witch queen’s expression. It was the look of a predator. Someone capable of killing innocent Verity de Wilde and subsuming her identity so perfectly, no one noticed. Someone capable of ensnaring brave Gideon Sharpe, then breaking his spirit into a million fractured pieces.
Gideon.
Rune had been desperately trying not to think of him.
She tore her gaze away from Cressida, unable to deny the Gideon-shaped hole in her chest—like a bullet wound.
He walked in her dreams every night. Those dark eyes filling with hate, penetrating straight to her heart. His stern mouth cursing her name, swearing to hunt her down. When she woke, her cheeks were wet from weeping in her sleep. Crying out for him and the life—the partnership—she’d been deluded into thinking he wanted with her.
Rune had to remind herself, every time, that they were mortal enemies. That their hatred for each other was what wove them together—not love or affection. And this was why it felt so wrong to have an ocean between them: the Blood Guard captain had been hunting the Crimson Moth for so long, she felt lost without him trailing her.
Gideon was her perfect rival; a deadly enemy to outwit. Without him, Rune could only be half of her full potential. It was why, deep down, she wanted him to come for her. She ached for the challenge of him. She needed to finish what lay unfinished between them.
Turning back to the porthole, Rune stared out at the cold sea. She didn’t know what lay on the horizon; the future was shrouded in mist.
Only one thing was certain.
Gideon would come for her, and when he did, Rune would be ready.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First of all: thank you to Baroness Orczy for giving us The Scarlet Pimpernel, a story that has lived in my imagination since childhood and (loosely) inspired this one.
Special thanks to Danielle Burby, for believing in this story so hard and always setting the bar so high.
Thanks to Vicki Lame for taking a chance on this when it was just an idea and helping me turn it into a Real Book. And to the team at Wednesday Books for being so darn amazing: Vanessa Aguirre, Sara Goodman, Eileen Rothschild, Kerri Resnick, Alexis Neuville, Austin Adams, Brant Janeway, Alyssa Gammello, Chris Leonowicz, Eric Meyer, Cassie Gutman, and Martha Cipolla.
Thanks to Taryn Fagerness, for giving this witch and her hunter wings to fly across the world.
Thanks, Elizabeth Vaziri and Ajebowale Roberts, for championing this book, and the entire team at Magpie for bringing it to UK readers.
Tanaz, Jo, Rosaria, and Eloise: for reading early drafts and giving me razor-sharp feedback. Thanks also to Emily and Whitney for speedy proofreading!
Canada Council for the Arts: thank you for funding this project. It’s easy to talk the talk, but you folks truly walk the walk when it comes to supporting women artists and working mothers. My endless thanks to all of you.
Extra-special thanks to Jolene, Dad, Mum, Art, and Myrna for watching the baby while I wrote this book. I could not be both a mother and a writer without your tremendous help.
Sibyl, thanks for changing my life for the better.
Last (and best) of all, Joe: for doing the laundry, making the meals, reading the drafts, building me a writing shed, and doing this wild and precious thing called life alongside me. I love you, Comrade.
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ALSO BY KRISTEN CICCARELLI
Edgewood
THE ISKARI SERIES
The Last Namsara
The Caged Queen
The Sky Weaver
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristen Ciccarelli (she/her) grew up on a grape farm, dropped out of college, and worked various jobs before becoming an author. Some of her previous trades include: baker, potter, L’Arche assistant, and community bread oven coordinator. Today, Kristen lives in Canada’s Niagara Peninsula with her husband and their book-obsessed toddler. She is the author of Edgewood and the international bestselling Iskari series. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Map
Overture
One. Rune
Two. Rune
Three. Gideon
Four. Rune
Five. Rune
Six. Rune
Seven. Gideon
Eight. Rune
Nine. Gideon
Ten. Rune
Eleven. Rune
Twelve. Rune
Thirteen. Rune
Fourteen. Gideon
Fifteen. Rune
Sixteen. Rune
Seventeen. Gideon
Eighteen. Rune
Nineteen. Gideon
Twenty. Rune
Twenty-One. Gideon
Twenty-Two. Rune
Twenty-Three. Rune
Twenty-Four. Gideon
Twenty-Five. Rune
Twenty-Six. Gideon
Twenty-Seven. Rune
Twenty-Eight. Rune
Twenty-Nine. Gideon
Thirty. Gideon
Thirty-One. Rune
Thirty-Two. Gideon
Thirty-Three. Rune
Thirty-Four. Gideon
Thirty-Five. Rune
Thirty-Six. Gideon
Thirty-Seven. Rune
Thirty-Eight. Rune
Thirty-Nine. Gideon
Forty. Rune
Forty-One. Rune
Forty-Two. Gideon
Forty-Three. Gideon
Forty-Four. Rune
Forty-Five. Gideon
Forty-Six. Rune
Forty-Seven. Gideon
Forty-Eight. Rune
Forty-Nine. Gideon
Fifty. Rune
Fifty-One. Gideon
Fifty-Two. Rune
Fifty-Three. Rune
Fifty-Four. Rune
Fifty-Five. Rune
Fifty-Six. Gideon
Fifty-Seven. Rune
Fifty-Eight. Rune
Fifty-Nine. Gideon
Sixty. Gideon
Sixty-One. Rune
Sixty-Two. Gideon
Entr’acte. Rune
Acknowledgments
Also by Kristen Ciccarelli
About the Author
Copyright
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Wednesday Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
HEARTLESS HUNTER. Copyright © 2024 by Kristen Ciccarelli. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.wednesdaybooks.com
Designed by Devan Norman
Map by Cartographybird Maps
Cover design by Kerri Resnick
Cover illustration of moth by Sasha Vinogradova; background texture © 55th/Shutterstock.com; gold sparkles © backUp/ Shutterstock.com; fire sparks © atk work/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-86690-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-86691-2 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250866912
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: 2024
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