“I miss her,” they whispered in unison.
Seraphine seemed about to say something more, about toreach for Rune, when a suddenBOOMechoed from outside the ship. They looked to the porthole.
Cannon fire?
Seraphine rose to her feet and went to look. Rune moved much more slowly, joining her at the porthole.
The ships outside were firing on the harbor.
Rune pressed her hand to the cabin wall, watching the explosions in the distance. The pine boards were rough beneath her palm.
That was herhomethey were sieging.
“So it begins,” murmured Seraphine.
FIFTY-ONEGIDEON
TODAY, GIDEON WOULD DIE.
It’s what they told him when they woke him up.
Gideon sat on the floor with his back pressed to the cold stone wall, the prison cell pitch-black around him. He didn’t know how much time had passed since the guard came at dawn to say he’d be executed in a matter of hours. It was hard to tell the passing of time in this place. Gideon had been here a week, and had learned to count days by the opening of his cell door, when the guards brought water and bread—first at dawn and then at dusk. But minutes? Hours? It was impossible to keep track of those.
All he knew was that he wouldn’t be in here much longer. A firing squad awaited him.
Gideon was that abominable thing the Republic could not abide: a witch sympathizer. No, it was worse: he was a witchlover.
Soon, he’d pay the price for it.
When a key turned in the lock, Gideon’s heart jumped into his throat.
This is it.
The door opened and light flooded in, temporarily blinding him. Before he could see which guard it was, a hood came down over his head.
“Time to go.”
Gideon reminded himself that his entire family was dead, and that he was simply joining them.
I’m not afraid to die.
But if that was true, why was his heart hammering like a war drum?
He didn’t struggle. Didn’t try to fight off the guard. Ten more would only rush in to replace this one. They would overcome him, one way or another.
Gideon let himself be hauled to his feet.
The guard led him from his cell in manacles. With the hood over his head, Gideon couldn’t see a thing. Fear pitted his stomach, growing more intense with every step.
As the prison gates rattled open, he tried to distract himself from thoughts of his impending death. The crowd outside—how big would it be? Would the entire city come to witness the execution of a revolution hero? How many people would cheer as Gideon Sharpe, defender of the Republic, died at that Republic’s hands?
Most of all: Was this worth it?
WasRuneworth it?
The thought of her only brought resolve.
Rune is worth everything.
