Thirty-Nine. Gideon

THIRTY-NINEGIDEON

AFTER LEAVING THE GROTESQUEscene on Freshwater Street, Gideon rode for the palace, hoping he hadn’t missed the Luminaries Dinner entirely. After stabling his horse and eyeing the carriages being pulled up in the rotunda, signaling that dinner was nearly at an end, Gideon trod up the steps and headed for the courtyard.

He was striding down the grand hallway, trying to push the image of James Tasker’s corpse out of his mind, when several screams of “Fire!” made him nearly jump out of his skin.

They were all coming from the same direction.

As more voices echoed the frantic call, Gideon started to run. After living in this palace, he knew the quickest routes, and when he reached the courtyard, he found Luminaries guests pushing through the doors, tripping over each other to escape.

The smell of smoke rushed out with them. Gideon looked over the heads of the escapees in time to see Rune standing alone on a purging platform, with a pillar of black flames spinning toward her.

“No … ”

Gideon surged straight into the crowd of panicked guests, pushing them back, not caring about their protests. He ignored their frantic elbows and fists as he forced himself through the doors, trying to get to Rune.

Stumbling into the courtyard, he glanced up and saw her disappear into the flames.

“Rune!”

Gideon tugged off his jacket—the expensive one she’d sent him earlier today—and pulled it over his head before diving into the thick smoke.

He tried not to breathe as he barreled forward, bumping into tables and tripping over chairs. He picked himself up and kept going, even as the smoke stung his eyes and the heat burned his skin. When he tripped again, it was on the steps of the platform. Gideon stumbled up them, pulled his jacket tighter over his head, and ran straight into the dark flames spinning around the spot where Rune had disappeared.

It smelled like a pyre. All burning wood and singed hair.

When he burst through the other side, into the eye of the spinning flames, Rune turned towards him. His chest tightened at the sight of her ashen face.

Gideon closed the space between them in a single stride and threw the jacket over her, tucking her into it. Her whole body trembled with shock.

“You came,” she whispered.

He pulled Rune against him, trying to shield her from the heat. What would have happened if he’d arrived five minutes later? If he hadn’t made it here at all?

Don’t think about that. Just get her out of here.

“Ready to run?”

She nodded.

Scooping her into his arms, Gideon plunged through the flames. He didn’t feel the searing heat on his skin. Only Rune’s forehead pressed against his throat, and the lock of her arms around his neck. Bursting out the other side, Gideon choked on the thick smoke, lost sight of the stairs, and half stumbled down them, nearly dropping Rune.

At the bottom of the steps, he regained his balance and steadied them both, then kept running out of the smoke, toward the edge of the courtyard. Rune’s arms tightened around him as she stared over his shoulder.

“It’s coming for us.”

He could feel the heat on his back. See the flickering black at the edge of his vision.

Get to the doors.

This fire was no natural fire. There was a witch in their midst. A powerful one. He hadn’t seen magic this formidable in years. He only hoped that whoever it was, she didn’t also decide to lock the doors and trap them inside the courtyard.

When the doors were ten paces away, Gideon pumped his legs. Willing them to go faster.

His shoulder hit the wood first and the door gave instantly, swinging open and depositing him and Rune onto the floor of the hall. As they fell, Gideon twisted his body so that his shoulder blade hit the marble first. He winced at the impact but managed to spare Rune, who sprawled on top of him.

The guests were gone. The hall was empty.

With her palms pressed to the floor on either side of his head, Rune sat astride Gideon. His jacket hung from her shoulders, mostly burned, and her red-gold hair was a wild mess, filling his vision.

A bewildered expression lit up her face.

“Why did you do that?”

He frowned at her, his hands moving to her hips. “What?”

“Why … why risk your life for me?”

Gideon sat up so they were eye to eye. “Did you think I’d let you be burned alive?”

“Maybe? I don’t know! What am I supposed to think?” She was still sitting on top of him, her dress hiked to her thighs. “I didn’t hear from you for three days. You didn’t even send flowers!”

Flowers?

What is she talking about?

Gideon stared up at her ash-streaked face. “Do you … want flowers?”

“What?” Rune fell off him, trying to untangle herself from his jacket. “No. Never mind.”

Clearly she was in shock.

Before he could make sense of it, the smell of burning wood filled the air. They both looked to find that unearthly fire eating through the doors. As if it were ravenous, and only Rune would satiate.

As guards and palace staff arrived with buckets of water to put out the flames, Gideon scrambled to his feet. He pulled the remnants of his coat—which was all but singed to ash—off of Rune. Knowing water wouldn’t put out this fire, Gideon grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the door.

They kept running.

Remembering the days he’d lived in this palace, Gideon led her through the servants’ quarters and the kitchens. The cooking staff froze, gaping at the Blood Guard captain and the disheveled aristocrat rushing through their workspace.

He took Rune out through the back door used for deliveries. Not long after it swung shut behind them, and they were safe—at least for the moment—Rune pulled her hand from Gideon’s and fell against the stone wall, her breath coming in quick gasps. She bent over, pressing her hands to her knees.

Gideon kept his eye on the kitchen door, half expecting it to catch fire, too.

It was quiet out here, and they were alone. The full moon rose overhead, moving in and out of the clouds.

“What the hell was that?”

“A spell,” said Rune.

“I know it was a spell. Why was it targeting you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Rune slid down the wall to sit in the alley dirt. Black soot from the smoke smudged her face. “But if you had seen the look in Seraphine’s eyes … she wanted me dead, Gideon.”

“You think it was her?”

Gideon might not be a witch, but he’d spent the better part of two years in the constant presence of one. For Seraphine to cast such a powerful spell, she’d need a lot of blood and, more importantly, the use of her hands—which were encased in iron.

“It’s not possible.”

The back door to the kitchen swung open, and Gideon immediately reached for the pistol holstered at his hip. But it was only a wide-eyed child. Belonging to one of the kitchen staff, probably. The young girl held a glass of water in her hands and, after shooting a fearful look at Gideon, crouched down to give it to Rune.

“The spellfire’s gone, Miss Winters.”

After taking the glass with trembling fingers, Rune touched the girl’s cheek—a gesture that, for some reason, made Gideon’s chest tighten. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Gideon watched her gulp down the water, trying to make sense of it all.

A witch had tried to kill her tonight.

Witches didn’t kill other witches.

Therefore, Rune couldn’t be a witch.

Right?

When the child went back inside, and they were alone again, Gideon remembered Rune’s strange words to him a few moments ago. “What did you mean in the hall? About the flowers.”

Rune’s cheeks reddened. “I have no idea why I said that.” She quickly got to her feet.

“You were upset with me. Why?”

She looked away, fisting her hands. “Please, let’s just forget it.”

Gideon stepped toward her. Taking her face in his palms, he guided her eyes back to his. “Tell me.” Her jaw was clenched, so he ran his thumb along its edge until she relaxed.

Standing this near to her was dangerous. Like the moon and the tide, the closer he got to her, the closer he wanted her. Wanted her softness to chase away the memory of James Tasker’s bloodless face. Wanted her kiss to erase the ominous warning written on the alley wall.

Rune was a bright light burning in a long, dark night.

Except she’s not for you.

“I kept waiting for a telegram,” she said. “Or some other sign that maybe I’m not so easy to walk away from. But there was nothing until your note tonight—and that was only to say you’d be late.” She looked up at him. “I thought you were jilting me.”

“Jilting you?” Gideon’s eyebrows arched. He almost laughed. “Rune, I haven’t stopped thinking about you for three straight days.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. He was about to prove it to her, when the sound of footsteps crunching pebbles interrupted them.

Gideon let her go just as someone appeared at the far end of the path, silhouetted against the lights of the street beyond.

This time, Gideon did draw his pistol.

“Show yourself,” he called out, stepping in front of Rune to shield her.

“Merciful Ancients,” said a feminine voice. “I’ve searched the whole palace looking for you! Are you all right?”

Rune squinted into the distance. “Verity?” Stepping around Gideon, she started toward the voice.

“Wait,” he warned. “It could be an illusion.”

But Rune was already running.

“Why don’t you shoot me and see if I bleed?” said Verity, materializing out of the darkness. She slit her eyes at Gideon while pulling Rune into a hug.

“Tempting,” he said, holstering his pistol.

Rune cut him a stern look, then turned back to her friend. “Are you all right?”

Verity nodded. “I’m fine. But we need to get out of here. They haven’t caught the witch responsible for that fire. She could be anywhere.”

Gideon didn’t like the thought of Rune returning to Wintersea alone. Not after a witch tried to kill her. “Let me send soldiers to escort you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” said Rune. “But it’s unnecessary.”

“You were the target of that spell,” he pressed. “If the witch who cast it comes for you again, you won’t be able to stop her.”

“And you will?” asked Verity.

Of course I will,Gideon wanted to say. Except he was no match for a powerful witch, and they all knew it.

“I’ll be all right,” said Rune. Walking back to Gideon, she pushed herself onto her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for not letting me burn.”

He felt Verity’s eyes on him. She made no effort to conceal the fact that she thought him unworthy of Rune. Annoyed by her disdain and overcome by the sudden urge to prove her wrong, Gideon cupped Rune’s neck with both hands and captured her mouth with his, stopping her from leaving. He kissed her slowly, deeply. Claiming her in front of Verity. At least, that’s how it started. As Rune softened, and her hand slid up his chest, he forgot their audience entirely—just as Rune remembered it.

She pushed against him, halting the kiss, and stepped out of his reach.

“Buttercups are my favorite,” she whispered, breathless and walking backward. “But daisies are also acceptable.”

The corner of Gideon’s mouth turned up. “Noted.”

It went against all of his instincts, watching her walk away, not knowing what danger waited for her beyond this alley. But as Verity had pointed out, there was little he could do to protect Rune.

Except for catching the witch who’d attacked her tonight.

Behind him, the kitchen door swung open. Gideon turned to find Laila stepping out.

“There’s something you should see. But we need to be quick. It’s already fading.”

Curious, he followed her inside.

Back in the courtyard, which reeked of smoke but was devoid of spellfire, Laila peeled a scorched tablecloth back from a long table. She pointed underneath.

Gideon crouched down, ducking his head to see.

Something glowed in the space between the chairs, moon-pale and delicate.

“It’s a casting signature,” Laila said, her voice floating down from overhead.

Gideon dropped to all fours, squinting in its direction, trying to get a better look. He crawled under the table, the pebbles shifting beneath his knees, until he knew exactly what he was looking at.

He saw it every night in his nightmares. Found it carved into his chest every time he looked in the mirror.

A thorny rose enclosed by a crescent moon.

The sight of it made him nauseous.

“A witch was hidden among the guests tonight.”

The brand on his chest flared suddenly. Gideon rubbed at it, but the pain faded quickly, leaving him to wonder if it was just in his head.

Laila joined him beneath the table, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the signature. With her head bowed beneath the wood overhead, her gaze flicked between him and the floating mark. “Who does it belong to?”

The past rose up to bite Gideon, trying to drag him backward in its teeth.

He wished he could deny what was right in front of his eyes. That there was some other explanation. But he knew this signature like he knew his own name.

“It belongs to a witch who should be dead.”

His eyes met Laila’s.

“Cressida Roseblood.”