Twenty-Six. Gideon

TWENTY-SIXGIDEON

GIDEON LEFT HIS HORSEwith 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.