Rune swallowed. This was true. She might not have known the kinds of cruelty suffered by people like Gideon and countless others at the hands of powerful witches. But her grandmother surely had, as had Nan’s friends, all of whom Rune had admired.
Too many witches had done nothing when they should have stood against it.
“Should I hand myself over in penance?” she asked him. “Give you the honor of marching me to the purging platform?”
Gideon looked away, as if remembering he’d done exactly that.
Aurelia was right. She still couldn’t trust him. He was still planning to betray her.
He was in too deep not to.
If Gideon let Rune save the witches she’d come here to save, if he let Rune escape, he would betray everything he believed in—his friends and fellow soldiers, the citizens he’d sworn to protect, the Republic he’d fought so hard for.
Rune wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t chooseherover all of that.
If he did, they would kill him.
It didn’t matter what he’d admitted in the yellow house. None of it mattered. Rune knew he would never choose her. Hecouldn’t. Not even if he wanted to.
The thought sobered her.Sharpenedher.
This is almost over.
All she needed to do was stay a few steps ahead. For a few hours longer.
Rune kept her gun aimed at his chest.
This is where we part ways.
“Don’t try to follow me,” she said.
Gideon said nothing. But Rune read him as easily as he read her, and the look in his eyes said:I wish I could say that I won’t.
THIRTY-SEVENRUNE
WHEN THEY ARRIVED ATthe towering circle of stones, it was shortly after midnight.
Rune and Aurelia had stolen two horses from the city stables and cloaked them all in Rune’sGhost Walkerspell, hoping to make it impossible for Gideon to follow.
The look in his eyes when she left haunted her the whole way.
The eerie stone silhouettes loomed over Rune like giants, blacking out the stars. The air here smelled like magic. Deep and primal. It made Rune’s skin tingle. As if the Ancients had been here mere moments before. As ifthiswas the doorway they’d used to exit the world.
Not that Rune believed such things.
But some people did. The Cult of the Ancients, for example— a group of religious fanatics—believed this summoning circle was once used to draw the Ancients forth, back when theycouldbe summoned. According to them, the Ancients—or the Seven Sisters, as the cult sometimes referred to them—had been gone too long now, slumbering too deeply, to answer anyone’s call.
It was a nice story to tell children at bedtime. But if the Ancients were real, if they’d ever walked in this world they’d created, Rune would have seen proof of their existence by now.
No. If these old stones made her feel things, it was because regular witches had been casting their powerful spells here forcenturies. What Rune sensed in this place was merely the echo of their magic, not the lingering presence of deities.
On a nearby hill sat the ruins of a once magnificent temple belonging to the Cult of the Ancients. The temple had been destroyed during the revolution, and its priestesses and acolytes killed or chased into hiding. From where she stood among the summoning stones, all Rune could see of the temple ruins was a half-crumbled wall.
Rune and Aurelia wasted no time. They cast the summoning spell beneath the moonlight while Meadow slept on a bed of moss. Rune had learned the spell while studying under Seraphine, but had never put it to use.
Rune opened her locket and took out the bit of Cressida’s hair, placing it in the circle’s center. Aurelia took her casting knife and made a small cut in her shoulder, adding to the silvery pattern of casting scars there. Using the blood she supplied, Rune drew the symbols.
“Now what?” Aurelia asked afterward, scanning the deep shadows surrounding them.
