PART
ONE
In the beginning, there was darkness. Until the Seven Sisters laughed and a world burst into being. The sisters walked its waves and carved its shorelines. They breathed life into all things and bound the world together with love, goodness, and beauty.
But they couldn’t stay forever. Before moving on, they chose a select few to watch over the world in their absence. To help these guardians love and protect their creation, the Seven Sisters gave them a gift.
The gift of magic.
And then, like a flame extinguished, they vanished.
—CREATION MYTH FROM THE CULT OF THE ANCIENTS
ONEGIDEON
GIDEON TUGGED AT THEjacket of his stolen uniform. The forest green fabric was stiff, as if it hadn’t been broken in.
The poor guard he’d taken it from was currently unconscious and tied up in a supply closet on the third floor of Larkmont Palace. Four other guards hadn’t been so lucky. Their bodies were floating in the frigid waters of the fjord.
He’d had no choice.
Gideon was deep in enemy territory. If discovered, he’d be better off dead.
His thoughts were a dark contrast to the bright ballroom he stood in. Musical instruments hummed as they warmed up, preparing for the private recital that was about to start. Chandeliers winked overhead as servants wove between the glittering guests in Prince Soren’s ballroom, offering one last round of refreshments before the music started.
As Gideon stood along the wall, watching the room like the other guards, his gaze fixed on his mark: the beautiful girl in the golden dress.
Rune Winters.
Prince Soren stood beside her, his palm pressed to the small of Rune’s back. The Umbrian prince wore a tailored suit, his family’s silver crest stitched into the cape slung stylishly over one shoulder, and his hungry gaze roamed down the dress Rune wore, inviting his rich friends to do the same.
Gideon’s blood burned as he watched them.
It was a beautiful gown—he couldn’t deny it. Made by some fancy designer, it likely cost a small fortune. But it wasn’tRune. Gold didn’t suit her, and the cut was severe. The plunging V neckline ended a few inches above her belly button in front and at the base of her spine in back, sending a powerful message:
Look at her. She’s mine.
The prince wanted his guests to admire the beautiful witch on his arm. To Soren, Rune was an exotic creature. A living artifact he was determined to add to his collection.
If Harrow’s intel was correct, one week ago, the prince had asked her to marry him. And Rune had accepted, on one condition: if Soren wanted her for a wife, he had to give Cressida an army.
It’s why Gideon volunteered for this job.
With an army, Cressida would wage war against the New Republic. If she won, she would reinstate the Reign of Witches and more people would die.
Gideon couldn’t let that happen. So long as Rune was the lynchpin in this unholy alliance between Cressida and Soren, he couldn’t let her live.
Gideon had kill orders and he was going to see them through. Right here. Tonight.
He’d waited all evening for his chance. Standing against the wall of the ballroom, sweating in this stolen uniform, he watched Rune flirting with her betrothed. Watched Soren flirt back: touching her with hungry hands, devouring her with haughty eyes.
It was driving him to the brink.
Alex was barely in the ground, and Rune was already engaged to another man. A prince, no less.
Is that what she wanted all along—a prince?
He was a fool to think he’d ever had a chance.
